He looked down at the splintered fragments of his hammer, clenching his teeth in disappointment. What a tragedy it was! His hammer remained in his hand, at his side, or covering his back ever since the day he forged it. The weight and feel of his prized weapon had become second nature to him; an extension of himself.
Of his very being.
He cradled the shattered hilt pieces in his hands like one would a broken arm, indicative enough of how he felt about such a grievous loss.
‘Do not worry, do not fear... I shall remake you.’
The reforging process was tedious. Adamantite was notorious for refusing to meld with other metals. And finding a suitable crystal for the head of such a distinctly superior weapon was no simple feat. It was due to such demanding factors that Argonas had waited so long to reforge his hammer. But his wait was over, as the necessary materials had been delivered. The adamantite was common enough on Draenor. And Argonas considered it the superior choice, regardless of its fusion limitations. The crystal was harder to obtain, however. For it, Argonas returned to the Jorune Mine, where he had unearthed the crystal used for the hammer’s original head all those years ago. It was a tedious search, but he couldn't have been more pleased with the stone he selected. He donned his forge gear - a worn clay-forged and leather chest piece and gauntlets - and made for his makeshift Lunarfall workshop.
First, the hilt. Using the pieces that remained of his old hammer, and the memory of what it looked like intact, Argonas quickly sketched out the shape and design of the handle on a piece of parchment. The weapon plans took only a moment to draft, but Argonas spent another few moments refining them. Finally, he knew what he needed, right down to the exact amount of adamantite that would need smelting. He began shaping the metal, striking it repeatedly as he folded it over onto itself again and again. His mind focused on the Dreadlord... that bastard who shattered his beloved weapon. He grunted, teeth bare, as he struck again and again - too hard, almost!
“--Easy!” he shouted to himself, briefly taking a step back from the anvil to cool off - both physically and mentally.
The break was short, as he reacquired his center. Instead of thinking of the Dreadlord breaking his weapon, he thought of how many fell beneath it - and couldn't help but grin. It wouldn't take long until the dense, solid, and flawless hilt would sit cooling beside the slack tub - a pristine recreation! Argonas was proud.
Next, the head needed proper shaping. Weight, surface angles, and refraction all had to be exact. This was the hardest step by far, and the one on which Argonas spent the most time. Such detailing took hours on average, but Argonas exceeded that time frame substantially as he continued to refine and go over the crystal’s landscape over and over again. He knew the old crystal intimately, and spared no time nor effort to recreate it exact.
Once complete, he channeled holy Light into the gem, causing the entirety of the violet crystal of illuminate. His tedium had paid off; refracting flawlessly, the Light within shone brightly. Argonas was pleased. He took a moment to admire his handicraft.
“A fine crystal, Vindicator.” a weary voice spoke from a distance behind him.
“--Hm? Ah! Observer!”
Argonas turned fully, bowing down respectfully as Olruun approached. The aged Draenei shook his head, letting out a low chuckle as he slowly closed the distance between them.
“Rise, rise. I have done little to earn such accolades.”
Olruun was a Chronicler, or lorekeeper of the Draenei; and one of very few remaining. His life’s work has been keeping record of the Draenei and their history as it happened from Argus to present. He either watched each and every event unfold with his own eyes, or documented a detailed recollection from those that had. And beyond that, he had the rare gift of foresight like the Prophet himself - though he would surely swat your hands with his staff were such a comparison between him and the Prophet made in front of him. Because of these talents and gifts, he was often called ‘Observer’, and turned to for guidance and counsel as any sage would be. Argonas respected him entirely.
“What brings you here, Observer? Or... are you the Observer from this timeline?” Argonas peered.
“Ah, I wish I were. I had much more energy back when we lived like this on Draenor. But disappointingly, no. I came through from Azeroth, just as you did.” Olruun explained. “Troublesome, this link to the past. It distorts my visions tremendously.”
“I recall you mentioned that, yes. Does it help, being on this side of the rift?” Argonas asked.
“Hardly. I had hoped it would, but alas... It seems I am rendered a useless old husk of a Draenei now.” the sage chuckled again.
“Impossible. A Chronicler is never without use, yes?”
“Flattering sentiment, Vindicator. But in truth, my purpose here is somewhat beyond my duties as a Chronicler. I have come to ask you about the Aetherstone.”
Argonas stiffened, assuming a serious demeanor as Olruun raised his brow in non-verbal interrogative.
“--It is safe. I have it.” Argonas stated up front, in response to the question unasked. “It has not left my side in all my time here.”
“And the key?”
“Nurvaatii has it still.”
Olruun nodded slowly, before smiling.
“Good! I knew you two were dependable wardens. I will continue to leave it in your capable hands.”
“Of course, Observer. We will not fail you.”
“You never have, Vindicator. For that, I thank you.”
The two nodded one to another, before Olruun turned to depart. Argonas frowned.
“--Wait, I... erm...”
“Yes?”
Slowly, the Observer turned back around to face Argonas.
“... May I ask for your guidance on something, Observer?” he asked, with some hesitation.
“Of course, Vindicator.”
“I have been struggling with a decision I dread making, but may have to very soon. I know this is not our Draenor, and yet I feel obligated to do all I can to preserve it.”
“A noble cause, Vindicator.” Olruun nodded.
“--Yes, well... I am considering doing so full-time. Leaving Azeroth behind and staying here to help ensure this Draenor does not suffer the same fate ours has.” Argonas added.
“Ah. Hm.”
“Therein lies my conflict. Should I remain here and do as I intend? Or return to Azeroth once this war is over?”
Olruun considered the query for a moment, stroking the sole tendril affixed to his chin as he did so.
“Well, where do you feel the most comfortable? The most at home, in your element, and content?” Olruun asked.
Argonas sighed, taking a moment to consider. He thought of all his friends from Azeroth. Dr. Yardley, Gevudan, Sir Iadric, Lassair... Lumenar and Mitta... all of the White Sigil’s members crossed through his mind. And with each face came a jovial memory. But then he considered where he was now. Draenor had been his home. The people, the community, a group all sharing in his values and beliefs. This was where he felt the most like himself. The most at peace. He sighed once more, knowing the answer.
“... Here. I feel the most content here, back on Draenor.”
“Then you should most assuredly return to Azeroth.” Olruun stated.
“--Wait, what? But you--”
“No growth is achieved in comfort, Vindicator. To become better requires experiences beyond familiarity and pacification. Not just that, but the experiences and outlooks you carry with you strengthen others who do not share them. Your perspective is but one piece of the whole picture, the sight of which your comrades from Azeroth would lack without you.”
“But... I can do so much good here.” Argonas argued.
“And you cannot on Azeroth? There, our allies have fought to stave of the Scourge, the Legion, even the destruction of the world itself! And look now, as denizens - heroes, even - of Azeroth come through to defend worlds beyond their own!” Olruun elaborated.
“Well, yes, but--”
“Besides, our people have grown strong through adversity. If you remain here to single-handedly protect them from all dangers we have faced, they will never grow as strong as we have in our own world.” Olruun nodded. “This is compassion, is it not? A tenant of the Light itself.”
Argonas stared, bewildered. He was surprised by the response. And yet, he was further surprised that he was surprised at all by the sense the Observer was making.
“I... I suppose so...” he muttered, still wading through his thoughts.
Olruun chuckled once more, warmly. He stepped up, and placed a gentle hand on Argonas’ shoulder.
“Follow the road traveled by few. Nothing of true benefit lies at the end of the easy path. Azeroth needs you just as much - likely more - than this rendition of Draenor.”
“You... are right. As always, yes?” Argonas grinned.
The two smiled to one another, before Olruun turned again to leave.
“Naaru guide you, Vindicator. I am certain we will speak again soon.”
“And you, Observer. Light bless.”
Argonas watched a moment as Olruun departed the same way he entered, before returning to finish his work. He lifted the crystal from its resting place in one hand, and the hilt - which had cooled sufficiently by now - in his other, and conjoined the two by placing the head into its cradle. It looked exactly like his old hammer, only more shiny. He grinned, giving the weapon a few practice swings.
“Aha! It is well!” he exclaimed, raising the weapon into the air triumphantly.
He felt, once more, complete. Ready and eager to face new challenges. And with Olruun’s words echoing in his mind, he knew which path he needed to take.
