This article is fan fiction The contents herein are entirely player made and in no way represent official World of Warcraft lore or history. The characters and events listed are of an independent nature and are applied for roleplaying purposes only.

Khandivya sat around the giant hearth fire of the White Kodo guild hall. The night had long since stolen the heat from the stone halls, so those who weren’t snuggled tightly in their beds had gathered together to share warmth and gaze into the fire. The flames rose high up into the dark stone chimney so that the top of the blaze couldn’t be seen. The group sat back from the opening, the heat radiating strongly so that those who inevitably sat closer to remove the chill from their bones become uncomfortably hot, sweating in their heavy winter clothes.

The crowd had started large when the sun was still in the sky, peeking through the massive windows of the hall, drinking and celebrating a good day of adventure. But as the sun had gone down, the group had dwindled to a select few, those who for some reason or another had elected to stay awake past when nature told them it was time to sleep. The fire roared loudly in their ears, and each person starred into its brilliant red and orange depths, ignoring the others around them. It was a quiet time, broken only by the occasional snap of water bursting from inside the logs, or the crack of a piece of wood breaking in two.

Someone spoke, no one could say who afterwards, as the blazing fire swallowed people’s voices and the quiet night erased all memories.

“Does anyone have a story for this night?”

Khan’s ears perked up a bit at the word ‘story’, but her body remained relaxed, her gaze pouring into the fire. Someone spoke.

“Oh, I have this funny one about Cantation, this one time he shot a rat in the upper spires of Blackrock Mountain and killed us all! Twice! Can you believe it? It was hilarious!”

The sound of flames was all the response this person received, his story swallowed by the echoing silence. A different tale is needed for a cold, dark night. Khan sat up briefly and she could feel several sets of eyes turn to look at her, knowing and hoping that she had a tale to tell the gathered group.

“I do have a tale to share, but it isn’t about this Clan.” She spoke silently, but with a force that rose above the crackle of oxygen and carbon combusting to produce heat and light. “Or maybe it is.”

“A long time ago, before any of your time with the golden age of the White Kodo Clan, there was another clan I knew of called Clan Skullsplitter. They were honourable and just, with strong leaders and strong friends. Each night they too would gather around the warm fires of their home and share tales of adventure, of valour, learning and sharing as friends should do.

“A group of four strong friends formed the core of the clan, each ready to die for the other should the need present itself. They had many adventures, none of which I can share with you as that was before even my time. But I did join them and I felt like I was a part of something amazing, something better than just my one single body; an entity entirely separate from me and yet a part of me.. One of their number was lost; to this day we don’t know what happened to him. I took his place, though I couldn’t replace him, and such adventures we had, such thrills we took part of! Those were the golden years!”

At this point Khan’s voice rose up, growing stronger with her excitement, remembering days long gone. She stopped and seemed to remember the silence, dropping her body back down, relaxed again, silence. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and strong.

“The clan fractured eventually. Because someone didn’t feel the same golden age that the others felt. Or maybe because nature abhors perfection and all good things must come to an end. The three remaining of that tight, close group were asked to make decisions that they couldn’t bring themselves to make and the decision was made to disband rather than try to fix the shattered crystal of teamwork and loyalty.”

Khan was silent again, listening to the fire and to the breathing of the people around her. She tried to listen for reactions, to see if her audience knew what she was speaking of, but only one person knows what lies in the heart of the other. Her head bowed to look at the stone just in front of the fire, where the light shimmered in the reflection of the fires glory.

Her next words were even quieter than before, mumbled into the coarse cloth of her scarf, but someone next to her heard well enough to piece together her words and pass them down with the same silence. Whispers echoed through the small gathering of people, but all she heard were the words echoing through her mind.

She stood and nodded to the group. “Good night all” and she walked with silent care up the wooden stairs that led to her room where she knew her husband was sleeping already. Her bed would be warm with his heat by now and she knew he would welcome her with open arms; a tight, close, group of two. Her words still flowed through her consciousness as sleep took her from the night.

“Don’t give up when you have something worth fighting for.”

Khandivya's Stories