Tavius Finn: Human, with a pinch of salt.

DONG! The grand clocktower of Gilneas rang through his closest prison cell. Just one more chime and it will be time, he thought. Tavius was a man who usually spoke any thought that came to mind but he was unable with the amount of precaution the Gilnean warden had taken with him; a mouthguard, a straitjacket and even roping his feet together. It almost made Tavius feel special, almost as if he were chosen for the honeymoon suite. The warden was playing his gramophone from his office, down the hall. It was a muffled sound to the encased Tavius, yet it eased his nerves. Time seemingly stopped for Tavius and the same questions were shooting around his head: Will my moustache be in perfect order for when my head rolls? Has this mask's straps left any imprints against my head? Did I save enough in my bowels to cause a mess for them to clean- DONG! Finally! He waited for a minute. No guard came to his cell. I'm going to be late for my own execution! He heard the rushing of feet and if it were possible to smile, he would have.
"The King has ordered all available arms to rally on him. Go, move, move, move!"The Warden's voice boomed. He was outside of Tavius' cell. Someone attacks on my big day? An hour passed. He waited. He heard someone, or something, breathing against his door. It began to scratch at the metal. Then it stopped. His door flung open and a man stood with a bloodied mace in one hand and a set of keys in the other. He smiled broadly at the sight of the cacooned Tavius. The man's fingers began to unclip all of the straps that webbed him to his cell which allowed Tavius to realise that this man was no guard, it was another prisoner. He stepped from his shoebox and took a breath of air, his foot nagging on something below. He looked down to see the body of a wolf with a bludgeon wound to its head. This wolf was far larger than any he had seen before. Far more human.

"It is so good to meet you, Mr. Finn. You're a legend in these cells, ya' kno'?" This one was only young, barely able to grow stubble yet he was awaiting execution. "We took this prison! I mean, it ain't no beat feat or nothin' and when the guards kill these wolf-folks they'll come bashing down our barricade, but we'll be long gone."
"Barricade?" Tavius was scanning the dead wolfman, trying to piece together what had just taken place.
"Yessir, we saw the guards marchin' and ol' Frank picked his lock. He was waitin' for them to be distracted by choppin' off ye' head, no offence or nothin', sir. He got out, passed the keys to Havo - our leader, sir - then this Wolf comes in and takes a bite out of ol' Frank, but he bats it away. It runs off and we bar up all the exits, sir! Tha's ol' Frank lying next to me." The boy walked into a nearby cell, Tavius followed. He pulled his bed aside and pointed to a small man-sized hole that seemed to go a few feet back. "I'd reckon another two weeks or so, sir, then my escape is ready. Come meet the boys!"

Tavius walked down the narrowed hall, noticing that each cell they passed was empty. He counted them to understand what he might be up against. Seven cells, which meant six men with "Ol' Frank" lying by his deluxe suite. They entered the guard's room, where those six sat around a table eating canned food. All but one laughed and cheered at the sight of Tavius, but he remained silent - staring at that one. Havo. He had heard stories of this man before being arrested himself. A child killer. His guide was opening up thick doors to one side of the room and a chill entered the room as he pried them apart. Tavius did not take his eyes from Havo.
"Something you lookin' at, Fuckface? Ha! Fucking cock-sucker thinks he is the big shot." Havo was clearly a poet. Tavius did not reply but instead walked into the freezing cold supply room that the young man had held open for him. He scanned his eyes over each of the cans; an ample food supply for herbivores. A plan formed in his head and he turned towards Havo, with a large grin upon his face. "Havo. I am in charge now so come give me a hand with lifting all of this food."

His words clearly empowered Havo's rage because he did not even make an attempt to form one of his verbal symphonies before getting to his feet and lifting a knife, point it toward Tavius. "I'll teach you why I'm in charge, Finn." And with that, he ran toward Tavius, who merely backed into the walk-in freezer. Havo struck out at him, but Tavius shifted the blow towards his own shoulder. Tavius gargled blood and dropped against the back wall, his body lifeless. The crowd of prisoners rushed in with awe at the swiftness of Havo's fresh kill.
"Must 'ave struck an organ or somethin'." Havo announced, beaming proudly. He turned to the rest of his group, "And don't none of ye' forget it. I'm the lea-" Tavius pulled the knife out, rose to his feet and made one gentle cut to Havo's juggular before pushing him out of the winter chamber. He was quick on the heels of Havo, moving past the five prisoners that stand bewildered inside the chilly prepared tomb. He closed the door, locking them inside and boomed his voice so that they could hear.

"My fellow prisoners, I am humbled by your compassion to release my person from certain death. For that, you shall all be rewarded with a quick death. For I, Tavius Arnold Finn, am a carnivore." Tavius placed his hand to his head in a salute and stood proudly at the announcement. The prisoners were beginning to bash at the door, screaming to be let out, so he spoke louder. "And a carnivore needs meat. A carnivore is not picky. A carnivore survives! Each of you will be there to help me survive; granted, you will not have any awareness of it, but we're all doing our part today! Oh and, if you would be so kind as to save me the trouble when I come for my next course, could one of you find the salt? Thank you." And with a gracious bow, Tavius dragged Havo toward the Warden's office.

Two hours later
Tavius ran his fingers down the Warden's gramophone before allowing the music to play.

Spoiler:

He stood in front of a mirror and used a knife to shave his beard from his face, leaving only his iconic moustache to remain. He did not take care when removing the hair from his face, the blade working as a sixth finger. Upon finishing, he sat down at the Warden's table and cleared his throat. He picked up his silver ware and was almost about to begin cutting into his plate of ribs when a thought struck him; What if I spill it down myself? He opened up the drawers of the desk until he came across a suitable bib to wrap around his front. There we are, he thought. His fingers regained their grasp on the cutlery. Where a common man might have eaten ribs with their fingers, Tavius always thought of that as primitive. After all, Tavius Arnold Finn was quite a civil man. DONG! With all that had happened, a normal man might be pondering these set of questions: How do I get out? Are more of those Wolfmen out there? If I get out, will they get me? Will they find a way in? Will the prisoners escape from that freezer? What have I become? Am I a free man now? But no, not Tavius. He had only one thought on his mind, I wish I had a little bit of sage.

(Not my best story, but I only made it to get a feel for my character + introduce the new resident of Stormwind!)

I have the attention span of a goldfish, but I had to read through this. Amazingly written; I'm not sure whether I want to meet this new fella' or stay away for dear life! Well done!

This is great.. The perfect background story for a very decent fella'.. I'm just dissapointed I really haven't seen much of Tavius yet! However, keep up the good work.. Enjoyable read.

I don’t know what it is about certain characters who in spite of being thoroughly despicable, it is their manner – be it a suaveness, a humorous element or even just a boundless enthusiasm - that makes them enjoyable to the reader or viewer. I get the impression that you know exactly what you’re doing with portraying Mister Finn.

Although I suppose he’s just going to leave the shoulder wound for now? (How did he cough up blood if the severity was only a feint?)

I'm sorry to nitpick but I do feel like asking why there would be a walk-in freezer room/cold storage chamber in a Prisonhouse? I could be wrong, but I would assume back then that the upkeep of such a room would require regular replenishing of Ice Blocks and a specially designed interior – even if it were done through magical means it seems a very unnecessary, likely expensive cost to keep (canned?) food cold for lowly Wardens and prisoners. Maybe the Royal Family or high nobility could afford such a facility, but not a prison for those on death row. (In this setting I would imagine that most food was preserved with salt by commoners).
Also Canned food doesn’t need to be chilled – that’s why it’s kept in cans. However I won’t ask when Gilneas might have invented/produced tinned food (insert Dog Food joke here) in their period of isolation.

In regards to the story as a whole these details are very insignificant, and the setup works anyway

Oh and one more thing. While I absolutely adored your choice in music, do Gramophones exist in Azeroth?

Just before I answer your post, I will say that when I write short stories I usually just have a beginning and 'theme' in mind, improvising bits as I imagine them to happen. That isn't to say that I can't justify my choices so, to answer your queries...

1. I just imagined Tavius to wrap up his shoulder wound during the two hour gap. Possibly even cauterize it as well.

2. Blood from the mouth. To be completely honest, I wrote it for dramatic effect. I'm unsure as to whether a stab through the shoulder would actually cause blood to rise to your throat, but it made for cool imagery, right?!

3. Freezer! Again, part of the imagery but I can justify my choice for this one a little more. Though your points on the upkeep are correct in the real world, I'm not sure if a magical means would actually be that difficult or costly. Gilneans were a paranoid Kingdom and so that is why I had the freezer inside of the Prison. Royalty may indeed have their own, but I could see them putting one in a place that is built to keep people in/out and a place that is consistently guarded. This was there for the sake of the story but if that helps ease your mind a little!

4. Canned food not having to be chilled is a fair point. Reading over my story again, I realise that bit is a little silly but the way I picture it now is having more than just canned food in there. A lack of meat, but still assorted vegetables.

5. As for canned food being invented, WoW - especially Gilneas - is extremely Steampunk which would put it in the 1800s which is the same era canned food was invented! This was my thinking at the time. I know that they were developed through a lot of manpower in factories and what not, something probably more associated to Goblins/Gnomes of WoW but again, it just fit the style of my writing. A fair point though!

6. The Gramophone was invented in the 19th century, so again I worked it into the heavy influence of Steampunk/Victorian style that Gilneas has been conjured in. I think it could very well possibly exist, especially since they have invented planes, gatling guns etc!


Thanks for the criticism though, I'll keep it in mind for the next addition to this man's tale. As for playing Tavius, I had initially wished to start his own gang and I've already worked in a part backstory with Bismack and Ralegh (Stormwind officers in the Regiment) to give him motive to act in Stormwind. When I get the time to work on him, I will!

^^ As I said, it works well as a set up in spite of the insignificant nickety picks.

but if that helps ease your mind a little!

NO I WILL FOREVER HAVE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS KNOWING THAT THERE ARE FREEZERS IN PRISONS!!

I've already worked in a part backstory with Bismack and Ralegh (Stormwind officers in the Regiment) to give him motive to act in Stormwind.

IC: Great. More Gilneans...

Could be worse Muir. Could be Alteracs.

IC: Hrmph...True... ¬_¬