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[h1][color=lightblue]Donnie[/color][/h1]

Word Count: 1,261

EXP: (22/60) ÷ 20 (Ender Dragon Kill) ÷ 3 = [b]45/60[/b]

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[i]Huh. That went better than most raids.[/i] Donnie thought to himself as he picked himself off the ground. [i]Usually I’d need to Resuscitate someone. I wish we had a tank though. I’ll need to see if I can remember Brewmastery at some point.[/i]


Donnie was taken completely off-guard by the falling island and didn’t have enough time to get out a mount, but thankfully, as the island started to fall, he was protected by game mechanics. He’d fallen from heights before, and every time he hit deep enough water, he was fine.


And lo and behold, as he plummeted downwards, through the air, and hit the surface of the water at terminal velocity, leaving one [i]hell[/i] of a splash in his wake, he was unharmed, if a fair distance down. Still a little shaken by the impact, he righted himself and swam to the surface, his leg thankfully repaired by now by a cast of Vivify.


Breaking water, he managed to fish the Disc’s orb out of his bag and use it. Soon, he was soaring above the surface, still dripping wet, and alighted on the reef with the others.


He sat down on the floating reef floor, taking off his helmet and shaking the water out of it, only for…[i]whaaaaaaat were those antlions doing?[/i]


“Get away from my armor!” the monk protested. “If I want a bath, I can take one myself later! I already took a swim in the ocean! And for the love of all that’s holy, [i]don’t touch the handbla--[/i]”


Too late. The antlion had already grabbed the right Fist out of its pouch and was cleaning the grime off of it.


“--Okay, looks like the Fists really [i]were[/i] drained. Whatever then--”


The antlions began taking off his armor against his protests, and, not wanting to harm an innocent being, Donnie resigned himself to letting them at this point.


Of course, he had his limits. “Don’t take off the gambeson? Have you no shame? Or sense of boundaries?“


Soon enough, he was left in his gambeson, but the armor was quickly cleaned via some kind of magical mist, and before he knew it, he was back to normal


With that over, Donnie stood up, shook his head, and took stock of his surroundings.


The reef was overlooking the ocean, as he knew, but there was some kind of shining city in the distance, under a dome.


And there was an awful lot of company.


The most interesting development was this “Super Smash Brothers” organization. A genuine fighting arena. Donnie was always one for a good fight. He’d fought in arenas before, from the Darkmoon Faire’s arena to the Brawler’s Guild in the Deeprun Tram, to the Gurubashi Arena when he was traveling through Stranglethorn Vale that one time.


Of course, with resurrection magic, it didn’t matter how injured he got, and kills were consequence-free. It was bloody, but it was something he liked to do when he was a rookie adventurer looking to test his skills in honorable combat.


Donnie, as one could probably tell by…[i]everything about him,[/i] was nominally spiritually-inclined, but not one to pursue inner enlightenment. As a follower of Huojin philosophy (typically associated with the Horde, ironically enough), he believed in quick and decisive action, being the change he wished to see in the world. To do that, he needed to hone his skills, hone his body. And arena battles were one of the greatest ways to do that. All of his training in self-discipline and harmony of spirit and body was just a means to an end for him. His position as Grandmaster was mainly due to his heroic deeds, mastery of the three monk disciplines, and excellent combat capabilities rather than representing the main tenets of his order.


In fact, he had planned on stepping down from the position of Grandmaster as soon as the war against the Legion ended. The life of a master wasn’t for him. But thanks to Galeem, he never got the chance. He was an adventurer, first and foremost. He couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in a temple all day spouting philosophy and teaching people how to do palm strikes. He had a lot to teach, but also much more to learn, and much more to do. Perhaps that would change when he was an old man, but for now, he hoped to stick to punching out godlike beings, looting legendary weapons from their treasure vaults,  walking around with thousands of gold, and drinking every tavern in Azeroth dry as a desert.


Donnie had seen things that would drive a hundred men insane. It could be argued that the only reason he was still going around adventuring was his love of combat.


So an entire [i]city[/i] dedicated to fighting? This was a dream come true!


Then Kamek opened up a portal network, and Donnie knew what he had to do.


“Sorry guys, but I have to head back to Peach’s Castle for a bit. I have something I have to do real quick. It’ll only take a few minutes.”


Walking through the paint-like portal to the castle, he made his way into the main hall, and immediately started asking around for the castle steward. There had to be [i]someone[/i] who would qualify as an innkeeper!


Soon, he found one, in Toadsworth.


“So I’ve been told you’re Peach’s steward?” Donnie asked.


“Why yes, that’s me. What’s your name, young man?” the elderly toad asked.


“Donovan.”


“I see. A fine name. I’m Toadsworth, and you already know what I do. What do you need?”

Donnie magicked his bag into existence and pulled out a strange white stone with an inlaid blue swirl. “This is a Hearthstone,” he said. “It lets me return to an area I designate as ‘home’ every thirty minutes. Fifteen sometimes. To do that, I need the permission of the proprietor. Usually that’s an innkeeper or other landlord, but since your business is running the castle, I need to talk to you about it.”


Toadsworth looked astonished. “A fascinating device! But why is there a waiting period?”


“I have no idea. Most magic where I come from works like that.”


“Ah. Still, you’re one of Peach’s fellow heroes. I saw you in the crowd a few days ago before you all left on your quest. But wouldn’t you need [i]her[/i] permission? I don’t own the castle, I just see to its day-to-day affairs.”


“True,” Donnie replied, “but the spell recognizes the one who runs it just the same as the one who owns it, and if the owner is in another region, I’m not sure how that would interact with the spell.”


“And what if there’s a conflict?”


“Well, I don’t think there [i]would[/i] be, would there?”


“Well, no. A friend of Peach is a friend of mine. So what exactly do I need to do?”


“Just place your hand on blue swirl and speak the words, ‘This place is now your home.’”


“Alright, I’ll do that…” the Toad said, starting to be a bit weirded out by the whole thing.


Donnie handed the stone to Toadsworth, who shakily placed his hand on the swirl and said the magic words, “This place is now your home.” Dots of blue light manifested around Donnie for a split-second, and then faded. The binding spell had completed.


“Thanks!” the monk replied. “I have to head back now, thanks for your help!”


“Have a nice day!” the elderly Toad called back as Donovan left.


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Donovan quickly arrived back at the reef, “Back. What’d I miss?”