Mentor Nathas

Andy spent the night resting at Malfurion's place. Malfurion didn't stay long in Darnassus. In his own words, he needed to keep a constant eye on what was happening along Kalimdor's borders. Some old ports still remained between the two continents. The elves had stopped using them after relations with the human kingdoms fell apart, but that didn't mean creatures from another world wouldn't use them!

Early the next morning, Andrew and Hilar dragged Andy out of a sound sleep. He grumbled and complained, unwilling to get up.

They were taking him to meet a master—the one Malfurion had mentioned, who wouldn't give Malfurion the time of day, but would make an exception for this bow.

Darnassus didn't seem very large to Andy. You could walk across the entire city, after all, since Darnassus wasn't all of Teldrassil.

In a remote, dim little thatched hut, Andrew found the master, who sounded like quite an imposing figure. He was a decrepit old man. His brown hair looked like straw, a messy tangle tied on top of his head, and a streaky, yellowish beard hung from his chin. Andy couldn't reconcile this old man with the image of a master. The contrast was just too great. He looked more like an old drunk who'd lived alone his whole life.

In fact, Andy's impression was spot-on. The old man was a drunk. Right then, as they were talking, he pulled a filthy flask from behind his waist, took a couple of gulps, then peered blearily at Andrew and slurred, "What're you doing here? You, you, you... where's your teacher? Why didn't he come?" The old man could barely get the words out.

Andrew showed no disdain or contempt for the old man. Instead, he bowed respectfully, as if greeting his own teacher. "My teacher went to inspect the border himself. He asked me to bring him here!" As he spoke, Andrew pointed at Andy, then covered his nose with his hand. The smell in the little hut seemed to bother him, but he didn't dare show too strong a reaction.

Hilar had already had enough. Less than fifteen minutes after entering, he hurried outside. Andy was on the verge of breaking down too. What on earth was that smell? Alcohol, stinky feet, and something rotten. If he hadn't come to become the man's apprentice, Andy would never have gone inside. He'd have run off just like Hilar.

"Oh? Why'd you bring him here?" the old drunk asked, then belched.

Andrew frowned and took half a step back before replying, "It was my teacher's idea. He asked me to bring him here to become your apprentice." Andrew started to explain Andy's situation from beginning to end, but he hadn't said more than a couple of sentences when the old drunk cut him off. "Has your teacher gone senile or lost his mind? Have me take him as an apprentice? He must be crazy to think of that. Has he forgotten what happened back then..." The old man stopped there, as if the subject were taboo.

"This... really was my teacher's idea," Andrew insisted.

"Enough. No more talking. You can leave," the old drunk ordered. "Don't bother me while I'm resting!"

Andrew shook his head helplessly and glanced at Andy, giving him a reassuring look.

"Let's go, Andrew," Andy said. "I don't care if he takes me as his apprentice! Besides, I still have my bow." He'd actually wanted to say that he still had his Monster Spirit, but caught himself just in time. He couldn't let the secret of the Monster Spirit system slip under any circumstances. With that, Andy turned and headed for the door.

The old drunk glanced sideways at Andy. He'd been so busy talking to Andrew that he hadn't even looked at him before. But the moment he did, the old drunk suddenly sat upright and barked, "Boy, let me see what you're carrying!"

"Hmph. Why should I?" Andy said without turning around.

"Do you know who you're talking to?" The old drunk's voice had completely changed. "Why? Because of this!" He reached out, and an enormous force of suction surged from his palm, pulling the bow from Andy's back.

"My bow!" Andy cried in alarm. He spun around and kicked at the old man, silently shouting, "Kick!"

The old man didn't even look at him. One hand held the bow. Though it was still wrapped in cloth, he could already feel that familiar pulse. As for Andy's kick, the old man merely twitched a finger. Andy's foot bounced back, sending him tumbling onto his backside.

"Ow!" Andy fell to the floor. Andrew hurried over to help him up and whispered, "Don't be stupid. Even my teacher wouldn't dare just attack him."

Andy's heart lurched. Who was this decrepit old man? Even Malfurion had to tread carefully around him. Who on earth was he? He didn't look like some reclusive master at all!

"Give me back my bow!" Andy stood up and held out his hand.

"You've got quite a temper for someone so young. Still, that was a decent kick for a kid your age!" The old drunk seemed like a completely different person now. The drunken look from before was gone, replaced by warmth in his eyes. He gently untied the cloth wrapped around the bow.

"Boy, answer a few questions and I'll give your bow back," the old drunk said.

"Where did you get this bow?"

"My dad left it to me before he died!"

"How did your dad get it?"

"I don't know!"

"Do you know where this bow came from?"

"No!"

"Do you know whose bow it is?"

"No! Wait, could it be yours?"

"I'm the one who asks the questions. I didn't say you could ask me any!"

"Then what else do you know?"

"Nothing!"

The old drunk rattled off several questions, then stared at Andy for a while before letting out a soft sigh. "Forget it. You got it by fate, so it's yours. Here!"

The old drunk tossed the bow to Andy. Andy quickly picked up the cloth from the floor and carefully wrapped the bow again.

"Boy, go back and tell Malfurion that you're staying with me," the old drunk said.

Andrew was genuinely relieved. He hurriedly bowed in agreement, patted Andy on the shoulder, and left as fast as he could. He'd had more than enough of staying in that hut. The smell was unbearable.

"Boy, enough! Stop fussing over your bow. It's meant to be used, not worshipped like some god!" the old drunk said.

"This was left to me by my dad. Besides, who do you think you are?" Andy said with disdain.

"Who am I? Heh! I'm Nathas!" The old drunk sounded quite proud of himself.

"Who?" Andy thought he'd misheard.

"Listen carefully, boy. My name is Nathas!" The old drunk sat back down, sprawled out like a drunkard, and said, "Starting today, I'm your teacher! Come on, let's hear you call me 'Teacher'!"