Heanor has a minion!

Tortuga the Vetan Turtle

The weapon crafting enterprise headed by Ha’danas Rosestrider was known throughout Silvermoon; the Rosestrider name having become synonymous with quality arms of all shapes and types. Having inherited a small gun shop from his own father, the arms dealer grew his empire from there. Over the years, Ha’danas invented hundreds of deadly weapons, each one surpassing the last in durability and lethality. This earned him both the respect of civilian and soldier alike, and the recognition of larger governments. While his fortune was massive, he knew he could not control the business forever.
He needed an heir.

His wife, Tarise, gave birth to twin girls, Aeris and Lorsae. Disappointed with the lack of a son, Ha’danas swiftly sent them to be schooled with the mages in Dalaran.
Tarise fell pregnant again shortly after the twins departed; this time with a baby boy they named Heanor.

Over the years, Ha’danas taught his son the weapons trade, instructing him in the ins and outs of the business. Every day he showed his son how the crafted weapons brought honor to the Rosestrider name, and made sure his son knew that one day Heanor would run the company alongside his father. The boy learned that the business was his destiny; Ha’danas setting his own plans for Heanor’s life.
And yet, as his knowledge of his father’s business grew in Heanor’s mind, so did a strange resentment blossom in his heart.

As Heanor grew older and watched his father conduct business, clients such as Garrosh Hellscream and Sylvanas Windrunner passed into his office. Heanor sat listening and learning from the legendary leaders. The renowned individuals spoke of war and death in a different way than his father; personally, intimately, laying out all the horrors and victories of war combined.
Ha’danas simply spoke of money and deals, while his clients spoke only generally of glory and the fall of the Alliance. Through all of this, Heanor knew that only one thing came out of his father’s trades, and that was more death. His father fueled the fires of war, that much had become clear.

When the day came when Ha’danas was to announce Heanor as his official partner, the realization shot through the young elves body like a cold snap. The life he currently had was great; he wanted for nothing, and his father and mother loved him.
And yet, Heanor couldn’t understand these feelings of resentment towards his father. Why would he feel hatred for the man who taught him everything he knew? There was something missing from the picture…

He saw his mother in the spacious garden playing with the mana wyrms, the gentle creatures dancing innocently around the ageless elf’s arms. Heanor took a deep breath and approached her, about to voice his thoughts; but she spoke softly to him first.
“Heanor, my son. I know why you’re here.”
His mother was an ancient wonder who had lived through several wars and ages alike. It was as though she had seen everything and was always one step ahead of him.
“Your father is not who you wished he was. You were brought into this world as an heir, nothing more.”
She was a logical being who often spoke harshly, as the blunt truth often was.
And this truth filled in the picture for the young Blood Elf, completing the reason for the resentment in a heartbeat.

“You can leave, but remember you will never have this chance again. We will always be here for you, but your life will change in ways you cannot foresee.”
Heanor knew she was right, but he knew that it was something he had to do. In her eyes he was still a child, a child born without the pain of mana addiction, and not knowing what combat actually was outside his father’s inventions.
“Tarise. Mother. I love you.” Heanor whispered, knowing what path he must take.

Tarise stood and placed her hand on the young elf’s shoulder. “I will tell your father. Stay safe, my son.”

Heanor rushed to his bedchamber and grabbed what little he had put together for this moment; armor, weapons, supplies. A handmade spear and a gun gifted from his grandfather to Ha’danas after his passing was snatched from a case, and a set of mail armor was on display in his room for this purpose. It fit him well enough, and after donning it, Heanor left. He didn’t say good bye to his father; Ha’danas wouldn’t understand his son’s reasons like his mother.

His father was now alone and heirless, the consequence of trying to selfishly steal a life brought into this world for matters of business. Heanor smiled and climbed upon his Hawkstrider, guiding the loyal beast out to the main road.
This was the beginning of his new life, one that he could write for himself.

Perching in a tree a blood elf waits for the perfect shot. His prey ahead of him; a tortoise wondering the caverns not knowing it’s fate.

With each step the elves heart slowed, his breathing stayed quiet. The tortoises hide would make a perfect cape. He aimed for the neck as he knew shooting the shell was impractical. The tortoise came to a halt and slumped to the ground echoing a great thud throughout the cavern. This was his moment.

He steadied his breath and readied once more. The arrow flew cleanly and gently through the air a beautiful prophecy for the tortoises enviable demise. The arrow sat in the beasts neck as it let out its final death scream, it was already on the ground but you could see the weight of the animal fall one final time.

The elf jumped down, the only thing on his mind was the highly defensive cape he would work from the scales of the beast. He began skinning the hide is was a lot tougher than he imagined; he’d never skinned a tortoise before let alone one on this size. As he finished he heard a tiny hiss, he stepped back and grabbed his bow. Out stepped a tiny tortoise perhaps the size of a copper coin, he let out a sigh of relief and put away his weapon.

“Well met little beast, I’m Heanor.”

Heanor had always been close to animals, the hunt was a game for both and could easily leave him dead on the ground. The small animal looked towards the skinned carcass and then back at Heanor. It moved to be close to his feet making hissing sounds like before.

“Is this your mother?”, he felt solemn it was always heartbreaking when he broke up a family, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know something of that age could still rear children.” He felt incredibly silly explaining himself to the creature but he felt it was his duty as the slayer.

He got up to leave but the feeling of guilt twisted his gut, he couldn’t leave him here to die. The cavern is full of naga and other nasty beings. He grabbed the tortoise and put it in his satchel. “I’ll get you out of here but don’t go getting to attached to me. I don’t keep pets.” He looked at its silly little face and couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Tortuga.”

Heanor head shot by Foxmire
Overlay by Izmyr
Heanor full body by Princess
Tortuga story by Tasha
Heanor's 'origin' story by Tasha, edited by Frode
World of Warcraft and Warcraft are trademarks or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc.
Horde logo and blood elf icon belong to Blizzard Entertainment, Inc and are assets from World of Warcraft.
Background is a screenshot taken by Tasha on World of Warcraft property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc.
Tortuga key art taken from Petopia.
Garrosh Hellscream and Sylvanas Windrunner are characters from World of Warcraft
All other characters mentioned are property of Tasha.