"That is quite a story Charibdys." the ageless and ancient Night Elf mutters in his monotone voice. "You know of course that the few that have returned from the sleep report wild and horrifying dreams. It seems something has warped the Emerald Dream. But, the only person that can tell us what it might be, won't speak about it."
He was of course referring to the Arch Druid Malfurion.
I feel my nostrils flare in anger as I look across Elune'ara Lake from the balcony in Nighthaven.
"But what about the things I saw? How can you explain that? The assault on Icecrown Citadel? Ulduar? the war between the Alliance and the Horde? For that matter, the Horde was not even around when I laid down in the Barrow Den, how could I even know about it!?!"
Rabine gazes across the lake and again shows no emotion or reaction. He is sometimes infuriating to talk to because of his stoic demeanor.
"I don't have an answer for you Charibdys. Your tale is amazing and unique. I suspect you will only ever get an answer from Ysera herself." he replies slowly.
He was right of course. In my heart I felt a sense of despair that couples with unanswered mysteries.
As the days and months pass, I stay in ever-Springtime forest of Moonglade, going about my business pretending to be a common dweller. For a time I served as a Warden, then I went on to training young druids to use their abilities. All the while I quietly carry these intense memories of a counterfeit life, the life of an exalted hero of the Alliance.
Then came the day that it all came crashing down.
Word came to the glade from a group of humans that the Deathwing himself had been killed by a brave band of heroes led by none other than Thrall himself. Deathwing was the grandfather of the entire Black Dragonflight. It is said that he was driven mad for some unknown reason and the former Earth Warden set out to destroy the world. In fact, it was his own followers that attacked the Barrow Den on Mount Hyjal where I was laid to sleep.
News of this event led a council to decide to send an emissary from Moonglade to first Darnassas, and then the great city of the humans, to decide how we would repair the damage done by Deathwing.
In spite of my refusal to go, it was decided that I would be that emissary. I am certain that this was a misguided attempt to get me to leave Moonglade and see the world.
In a days time, I was on the back of a hippogryph and soaring through the sky towards the Night Elf city in the great tree, Darnassas.
The great tree seemed bigger than I remembered. My mount landed at its base near the sea and I could see it's soaring branches clawing into the clouds. My races misguided attempt at replacing the great tree that was destroyed an age ago atop Mount Hyjal.
A magical gateway quickly brought me to the heart of the city high in the sky. It was largely how I remembered. Marble towers and colonnades, pathways going here and there, a tremendous aura of peace and harmony. I strolled down the various paths, looking with pride at the heart of my people.
I admittedly wandered for a bit, invigorated by the adventure and the glory of this great city. My steps took me to the steps of the massive Temple of the Moon. Walking through the archway, I could feel the primordial magic swirling all about me. A great fountain in its center poured water from a basin into the pools below. I strolled for a while in its interior before ascending the steps up to the balcony. My heart was full of joy and peace.
Until I saw... him.
Standing at the edge of the great balcony stood a twisted, hunched over man dressed in fine clothing with a tall hat. His long arms hung awkwardly at his side, covered in thick oily fur. In place of his hands he had vicious, dirty claws. His face was a snarling visage of horror something between a slobbering wolf and a human. He turned to me and bared his yellow fangs.
"Good day to you m'lady" he growled.
My heart felt as if it stopped in my chest. My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. My knees went weak and I fell to the ground. Cold terror washed over me like a wave.
"Ma'am? Are you all right?" he said as he turns to face me. Those burning eyes, searing my soul.
"AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" The scream finally came out as the tears erupted across my face.
The nearby sentinels were at my side in a flash. My scream echoing across the serene temple.
The Worgen held his claws up in the air, as if pleading for mercy.
"Sentinels!! Kill him!! He is a monster that will destroy us all!! Calmfury!! How could you come here?!?" I stammer
The Sentinels stand in bewilderment.
"What is the meaning of this?" a firm, commanding voice rings out.
"Priestess Tyrande!" one of the Sentinels calls out. "This Druid seems be frightened of our Gilnean guest."
The beautiful and graceful Night Elf Priest kneels in front of me, blocking my view of the Worgen.
"Charibdys, do you know this man?"
"M'lady, I swear I have never seen this elf before." the bewildered Worgen stammers
"Charibdys... snap out of it and speak to me." Tyrande says firmly.
"She called me Calmfury... I don't know who that is M'lady. My name is Karl, I'm with the refugees" he stammers on.
"Sentinel, bring Malfurion here immediately" Tyrande commands. A soft glowing light rises from her hand and washes over my chest. "Let the Goddess remove your fear Charibdys"
"M'lady, if it's all the same, I'll be leaving back to the refugee camp."
Tyrande nods her head and the Worgen strides off down the stairs and out of the Temple.
"Priestess, how could you let those beasts come here?!?" I manage to say with a sob. "I have seen the terrible things they do."
"She does not know." Tyrande turns to say as the hulking form of Malfurion Stormrage, greatest of all Druids sprints up to us.
"Take her into the tower in the Temple gardens, have Chardryn make her a tea to soothe her." Malfurion says
"We will talk to her" Tyrande says as she steps back for the Sentinels to lift me off the ground.
"Indeed" Malfurion says "I seem to recall she was one of the sleepers that was trapped in the Emerald Nightmare. Perhaps I should have a conversation with her about her experience."
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Chapter 2: Pt: 1 The Dawn of Cataclysm
Darkness... cold... euphoria...
Terror...
Silence...
"Here is one, she is alive!" the Watcher exclaims.
Pain...
"This world will burn in the fires of the Great One!!" A hollow voice screams from a far off place.
"Aedelia, take this sleeper, along with the others, and get out of here! Tell Ysera that the Hyjal Barrow Dens are under siege!!"
"But Captain, you'll be murdered by these fanatics!!" the young Druid exclaims as she inadvertently wipes a long smudge of dirt across her fair face from her filthy hands.
"Aedelia, Fandral cannot be allowed to escape!! Ysera will send help I'm sure. Now go!! Time is not our friend" Captain Saynna exclaims through her ominous-looking helmet.
Darkness... pain... Blinding light!! Fire!!
Wind.
"Wake up child, it is time for you to arise" A deep other-worldly voice rings in my ears.
It is very warm... blinding, painful light filters through the green canopy of trees above me.
I draw in a deep breath, as a chorus of chirping insects rise around me.
"She is waking up." Aronus says "Give her time to come back from the Emerald Nightmare."
A deep, familiar voice mumbles "Earth Mother be praised."
"Hamuul!!" I croak pitfully as tears roll out of my eyes.
A look of puzzlement washes across the face of all those present, including that of the old Tauren Druid.
"She seems to know you" Aronus mutters as his green dragon wings shutter with surprise.
"It is me Hamuul, Charibdys... I stepped through the dream, back to my body"
The forest grows quiet as the eyes of all who are present fall on the old Tauren.
"Charibdoos?" Hamuul tries to say in his deep voice. "I do not remember such a name."
Aronus gives an awful smile, his ferocious teeth showing through his scaly green lips
"Perhaps it is a shadow from the Emerald Nightmare?" The dragon hisses "The mysteries of that place are limitless. It is no wonder so few can be plucked from it's depths."
Silent awe falls over the assembled as my dried, dirt encrusted eyes open. Despite the passage of time, I recognize the ancient stones and trees of Moonglade. The smell of the ever blooming flowers, and the chirping of tiny birds fills my heart with joy. I am awake, the nightmare is over.
"Take her to Mylentha for a bath and a change of clothes. Charibdys, it may take you some time to recover. Rest and regain your strength." Aronus says softly.
Gentle hands lift me from the forest floor. My head turns and my eyes fall upon the bestial face of my beloved Hamuul. He smiles with the innocent, boyish grin I remember.
"How could it be a dream?" I mouth, as no noise comes out.
Terror...
Silence...
"Here is one, she is alive!" the Watcher exclaims.
Pain...
"This world will burn in the fires of the Great One!!" A hollow voice screams from a far off place.
"Aedelia, take this sleeper, along with the others, and get out of here! Tell Ysera that the Hyjal Barrow Dens are under siege!!"
"But Captain, you'll be murdered by these fanatics!!" the young Druid exclaims as she inadvertently wipes a long smudge of dirt across her fair face from her filthy hands.
"Aedelia, Fandral cannot be allowed to escape!! Ysera will send help I'm sure. Now go!! Time is not our friend" Captain Saynna exclaims through her ominous-looking helmet.
Darkness... pain... Blinding light!! Fire!!
Wind.
"Wake up child, it is time for you to arise" A deep other-worldly voice rings in my ears.
It is very warm... blinding, painful light filters through the green canopy of trees above me.
I draw in a deep breath, as a chorus of chirping insects rise around me.
"She is waking up." Aronus says "Give her time to come back from the Emerald Nightmare."
A deep, familiar voice mumbles "Earth Mother be praised."
"Hamuul!!" I croak pitfully as tears roll out of my eyes.
A look of puzzlement washes across the face of all those present, including that of the old Tauren Druid.
"She seems to know you" Aronus mutters as his green dragon wings shutter with surprise.
"It is me Hamuul, Charibdys... I stepped through the dream, back to my body"
The forest grows quiet as the eyes of all who are present fall on the old Tauren.
"Charibdoos?" Hamuul tries to say in his deep voice. "I do not remember such a name."
Aronus gives an awful smile, his ferocious teeth showing through his scaly green lips
"Perhaps it is a shadow from the Emerald Nightmare?" The dragon hisses "The mysteries of that place are limitless. It is no wonder so few can be plucked from it's depths."
Silent awe falls over the assembled as my dried, dirt encrusted eyes open. Despite the passage of time, I recognize the ancient stones and trees of Moonglade. The smell of the ever blooming flowers, and the chirping of tiny birds fills my heart with joy. I am awake, the nightmare is over.
"Take her to Mylentha for a bath and a change of clothes. Charibdys, it may take you some time to recover. Rest and regain your strength." Aronus says softly.
Gentle hands lift me from the forest floor. My head turns and my eyes fall upon the bestial face of my beloved Hamuul. He smiles with the innocent, boyish grin I remember.
"How could it be a dream?" I mouth, as no noise comes out.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Pt 52 Diogenes, why do you sleep?
"Uh, I dunno why... it just is okay? Now stop axsking me questions!" the drunken mage stammers as he drifts in and out of consciousness. The foul stream of warm sewage flows gently around his body as he lays prone in the canal of waste that pours out the upper city of Dalaran.
Nearby in the dark of the sewer tunnel sits the dusky form of a man. His robes pulled tightly around his body, careful to avoid the stream trickling at his feet.
"But Erastymus, I know that the same magic that keeps this city floating high in the sky also keeps us warm. But, how? No runes of power are scribed on the walls? There are no mages channelling spells to maintain the enchantment. There are no orbs or essences being tapped. So how?" shadowy mage says with a grin.
"Didn't you study about ley lines when you were an apprentish?" the washed-up mage replies as he sits up from his prone position. "Nort rend has a major convergish... er convergence of these ley lines. That is why duh Titans chose it for their city, and that is why dah Dragons flights have dere big graveyard here. Ley lines, leeeeyyy linesheses." Erastymus's eyes roll back in his head as he falls back into the sewer water.
"No, I never finished my apprenticeship. Besides, my old master never really taught me anything useful." Diogenes replies in a somber tone.
"Did you hear that Erastymus?" Diogenes whispers excitedly "if the city goes back then maybe I can get home to Gilneas... Erastymus!! Wake up."
Erastymus snores pitifully. The strong alcoholic beverage he conjured up was just the thing the failed wretch needed to drown out the memories of his pathetic life, leaving him numb and mostly unconscious.
<...I heard that it was a blood elf paladin that landed the killing blow on the Lich Ki.....> another lost echo ringing down the pipes.
Diogenes picks idly at the buildup of dried sewage at the edge of the stream. In the midst of the filth he finds a silvery button. Lost long ago by its unwary owner.
"Hey Erastymus... Do you still have that portal stone?" Diogenes says as he tosses the button at the drunken mage
"No... er... Yesh... Oh, I dunno. Yeah, I do. But, I forgot how to cast the spell. Besides, We can only portal to duh Stormwind... an I don wanna go there cause of th..."
<...I told you madam, that is a warlock soulstone... not a jewel... it has no value here and....>
Diogenes stands up from his perch and tip toes carefully over to the sewer logged form of the drunken mage.
"Erastymus..." he says gingerly "maybe I can cast the portal spell? Wouldn't you like to finally get out of this sewer?"
<... Lu ash novAS rogesh cynegold nagan lo veld noth ash nud aesire vil va but skile...> the chattering voice of a foreigner comes echoing down the cobbletone pipes
Erastymus's eyes flutter open briefly, as if he is trying to will himself awake. "No... I was tolt to stay here by my master until.... I can figure out how to...." He drifts off once again.
Diogenes takes the opportunity to slyly reach forward and begin rummaging through the mages sewer-soaked robes. Orange dust spills from one pocket, a soggy scrap of paper is pulled from another.
<...word has it that there has been a coup in Orgrimmar... something about one of their beastly leaders being killed in a duel...>
A grin stretches across the dusky face of Diogenes as he pulls a small amber stone from a pouch hanging from Erastymus's belt.
He stands up in triumph as he stares intently at the stone. Focusing hard he strains to remember the words to the portal spell.
"Saldute minot precout... debreere!!" Diogenes utters, but nothing happens.
<... Eye tolt you tah hurry yah stoopid little peon... we have ta take dah portal tah Orgrimm...>
Diogenes returns to his dry little perch and sits down. His dark face curling into a pout as his stares in bewilderment at the worthless portal stone. A sewer frog sitting across from him croaks weakly as if to mock his failure.
"... So it's dah ley lines that power Dalaran and keep it's spells strong. The whole city sits at a crossroad of lines..." Erastymus says in a sudden outburst before drifting off once again into his drunken stupor.
< Hey does anyone know how to craft a few elixirs!! >
"Father, I wish you could see your pathetic son right now. Tossed like waste into a wretched sewer. No one to talk to but a disease-ridden frog and a washed-up drunkard mage." Diogenes mutters through his teeth as a tear rolls down his cheek. "Why am I even here anyway? If I am just a pathetic simulacrum of someone who was unlucky enough to wander through Icecrown, why didn't I fade away when the Lich King was killed?
<...dis stoopid ting is worthless...>
Erastymus sits up from the stream of waste and looks at Diogenes. His eyes wide open, his face straight and firm. "There is only one answer... it's because the Lich King isn't dead. They must have lied to us, he wasn't killed, or he escaped, or maybe even someone else took his place. Regardless, someone has to say something... you my friend are proof that the Scourge is alive and well."
The faint sound of a bead or a stone bouncing down a sewer pipe echoes through the tunnel.
Diogenes glares at the soggy mage, pondering his sudden insight. Is it possible that the Lich King is alive? If he is proof then perhaps there is meaning to his life. Perhaps it was fate that brought him here.
Suddenly a small stone drops out of an overhead pipe and lands in the muck at Diogenes's feet. For no good reason, it begins to glow brightly with a greenish light illuminating the tunnel.
"Hey, what is that?" Erastymus stammers out as he stares wide-eyed at the stone.
Diogenes gently lifts the stone from it's filthy resting place and looks deeply into it's depths. The oily surface hides a soft green glow. The faint outline of a figure can be seen inside.
As he holds the stone, the dusky hue of skin on his hand is washed away to reveal olive colored skin.
"Diogenes... the light, on your face... it looks like your... your... alive. It looks like your a real person!" Erastymus mutters in amazement.
The stone glows brighter, and a faint humming can be heard over the sound of the rushing sewage. Suddenly, cracks spider across the surface of the soulstone and in a flash of light it disintegrates.
With a guttural growl Diogenes falls forward into the filthy stream of sewage. He moans in pain for a moment before his moan turns into a growl. Then in a puff of inky black smoke his arm turns into a wicked claw covered with supple fur, then his other arm turns. He rolls onto his back and lets out a desperate howl. His back arching in pain as twists cruelly. With another puff of smoke his head and torso transforms into the feral form of a worgen.
Erastymus backs against the bars of the sewer and stares at the beast in horror. "Somebody help me!! There is a worgen loose in the sewers!!!" he screams.
Diogenes snorts at his paniced friend as he rises up from the ground. Sewer water soaking his oily black fur.
"Open a portal to Gilneas... Now!!" he growls in a guttural voice as his tosses the portal stone at the feet of Erastymus.
Wide-eyed, the mage snatches up the stone and focuses for a moment.
"Saldute minot precout debreere Gilneas!!" he utters as a magical portal opens in thin-air.
Diogenes sighs in triumph as he bounds towards the portal
"Take care my friend" he snorts "I hope to see you again someday. As for me, I know the truth now. I am real, I am alive, and I have a I have a filthy, low down, good for nothing Orc named Garrosh that I have to throttle. Cheers!!"
The twisted worgen leaps through the mystical doorway and disappears. Calmness settles upon the sewer tunnel once again as the portal closes. The soft sound of running sewage and croaking frogs fills the air.
Erastymus stands mystified in the filthy water. After a moment he looks about and sits down in the muck.
"I need to quit drinking" he mutters as his head drops into his hands.
Nearby in the dark of the sewer tunnel sits the dusky form of a man. His robes pulled tightly around his body, careful to avoid the stream trickling at his feet.
"But Erastymus, I know that the same magic that keeps this city floating high in the sky also keeps us warm. But, how? No runes of power are scribed on the walls? There are no mages channelling spells to maintain the enchantment. There are no orbs or essences being tapped. So how?" shadowy mage says with a grin.
"Didn't you study about ley lines when you were an apprentish?" the washed-up mage replies as he sits up from his prone position. "Nort rend has a major convergish... er convergence of these ley lines. That is why duh Titans chose it for their city, and that is why dah Dragons flights have dere big graveyard here. Ley lines, leeeeyyy linesheses." Erastymus's eyes roll back in his head as he falls back into the sewer water.
"No, I never finished my apprenticeship. Besides, my old master never really taught me anything useful." Diogenes replies in a somber tone.
"Did you hear that Erastymus?" Diogenes whispers excitedly "if the city goes back then maybe I can get home to Gilneas... Erastymus!! Wake up."
Erastymus snores pitifully. The strong alcoholic beverage he conjured up was just the thing the failed wretch needed to drown out the memories of his pathetic life, leaving him numb and mostly unconscious.
<...I heard that it was a blood elf paladin that landed the killing blow on the Lich Ki.....> another lost echo ringing down the pipes.
Diogenes picks idly at the buildup of dried sewage at the edge of the stream. In the midst of the filth he finds a silvery button. Lost long ago by its unwary owner.
"Hey Erastymus... Do you still have that portal stone?" Diogenes says as he tosses the button at the drunken mage
"No... er... Yesh... Oh, I dunno. Yeah, I do. But, I forgot how to cast the spell. Besides, We can only portal to duh Stormwind... an I don wanna go there cause of th..."
<...I told you madam, that is a warlock soulstone... not a jewel... it has no value here and....>
Diogenes stands up from his perch and tip toes carefully over to the sewer logged form of the drunken mage.
"Erastymus..." he says gingerly "maybe I can cast the portal spell? Wouldn't you like to finally get out of this sewer?"
<... Lu ash novAS rogesh cynegold nagan lo veld noth ash nud aesire vil va but skile...> the chattering voice of a foreigner comes echoing down the cobbletone pipes
Erastymus's eyes flutter open briefly, as if he is trying to will himself awake. "No... I was tolt to stay here by my master until.... I can figure out how to...." He drifts off once again.
Diogenes takes the opportunity to slyly reach forward and begin rummaging through the mages sewer-soaked robes. Orange dust spills from one pocket, a soggy scrap of paper is pulled from another.
<...word has it that there has been a coup in Orgrimmar... something about one of their beastly leaders being killed in a duel...>
A grin stretches across the dusky face of Diogenes as he pulls a small amber stone from a pouch hanging from Erastymus's belt.
He stands up in triumph as he stares intently at the stone. Focusing hard he strains to remember the words to the portal spell.
"Saldute minot precout... debreere!!" Diogenes utters, but nothing happens.
<... Eye tolt you tah hurry yah stoopid little peon... we have ta take dah portal tah Orgrimm...>
Diogenes returns to his dry little perch and sits down. His dark face curling into a pout as his stares in bewilderment at the worthless portal stone. A sewer frog sitting across from him croaks weakly as if to mock his failure.
"... So it's dah ley lines that power Dalaran and keep it's spells strong. The whole city sits at a crossroad of lines..." Erastymus says in a sudden outburst before drifting off once again into his drunken stupor.
< Hey does anyone know how to craft a few elixirs!! >
"Father, I wish you could see your pathetic son right now. Tossed like waste into a wretched sewer. No one to talk to but a disease-ridden frog and a washed-up drunkard mage." Diogenes mutters through his teeth as a tear rolls down his cheek. "Why am I even here anyway? If I am just a pathetic simulacrum of someone who was unlucky enough to wander through Icecrown, why didn't I fade away when the Lich King was killed?
<...dis stoopid ting is worthless...>
Erastymus sits up from the stream of waste and looks at Diogenes. His eyes wide open, his face straight and firm. "There is only one answer... it's because the Lich King isn't dead. They must have lied to us, he wasn't killed, or he escaped, or maybe even someone else took his place. Regardless, someone has to say something... you my friend are proof that the Scourge is alive and well."
The faint sound of a bead or a stone bouncing down a sewer pipe echoes through the tunnel.
Diogenes glares at the soggy mage, pondering his sudden insight. Is it possible that the Lich King is alive? If he is proof then perhaps there is meaning to his life. Perhaps it was fate that brought him here.
Suddenly a small stone drops out of an overhead pipe and lands in the muck at Diogenes's feet. For no good reason, it begins to glow brightly with a greenish light illuminating the tunnel.
"Hey, what is that?" Erastymus stammers out as he stares wide-eyed at the stone.
Diogenes gently lifts the stone from it's filthy resting place and looks deeply into it's depths. The oily surface hides a soft green glow. The faint outline of a figure can be seen inside.
As he holds the stone, the dusky hue of skin on his hand is washed away to reveal olive colored skin.
"Diogenes... the light, on your face... it looks like your... your... alive. It looks like your a real person!" Erastymus mutters in amazement.
The stone glows brighter, and a faint humming can be heard over the sound of the rushing sewage. Suddenly, cracks spider across the surface of the soulstone and in a flash of light it disintegrates.
With a guttural growl Diogenes falls forward into the filthy stream of sewage. He moans in pain for a moment before his moan turns into a growl. Then in a puff of inky black smoke his arm turns into a wicked claw covered with supple fur, then his other arm turns. He rolls onto his back and lets out a desperate howl. His back arching in pain as twists cruelly. With another puff of smoke his head and torso transforms into the feral form of a worgen.
Erastymus backs against the bars of the sewer and stares at the beast in horror. "Somebody help me!! There is a worgen loose in the sewers!!!" he screams.
Diogenes snorts at his paniced friend as he rises up from the ground. Sewer water soaking his oily black fur.
"Open a portal to Gilneas... Now!!" he growls in a guttural voice as his tosses the portal stone at the feet of Erastymus.
Wide-eyed, the mage snatches up the stone and focuses for a moment.
"Saldute minot precout debreere Gilneas!!" he utters as a magical portal opens in thin-air.
Diogenes sighs in triumph as he bounds towards the portal
"Take care my friend" he snorts "I hope to see you again someday. As for me, I know the truth now. I am real, I am alive, and I have a I have a filthy, low down, good for nothing Orc named Garrosh that I have to throttle. Cheers!!"
The twisted worgen leaps through the mystical doorway and disappears. Calmness settles upon the sewer tunnel once again as the portal closes. The soft sound of running sewage and croaking frogs fills the air.
Erastymus stands mystified in the filthy water. After a moment he looks about and sits down in the muck.
"I need to quit drinking" he mutters as his head drops into his hands.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Pt 51 ...like a woman scorned.
The candlelight flickers as the sensual form of a woman rises from the bed and strolls seductively across the room. Her sweat covered body glistening in the dim light as she lifts a crystal cup from the nearby table and takes a long drink. A devilish look washes across her face as she turns back towards the bed. Smiling contentedly, she swallows the last bit of wine.
On the bed lies the lean and sinewy form of an elderly orc. His nude body entangled in the rich velvet blankets of the elaborate bed, he breathes heavily from the exertion of these past several hours. His long grey hair is tied into a knot behind his head. Strange, ornate tattoos adorn his bright green skin, grotesque fel runes and images scribed carelessly across his body.
"Dis wine is magical I tink." Felika says as she sets the empty glass down and shakes a nearby empty bottle. "Puhaps da steword woult bring us sum more?"
Orkimedes snorts at the woman and frowns in disgust as he rolls over and plucks a small glowing stone from the side table.
"You drink too much Felika. Why don't you go downstairs and order us some more food." he commands in a cold, flat tone.
The orc woman frowns back at the old shaman. Her seductive playfulness is gone in an instant. After a brief pause she smiles again and walks slowly to the foot of the bed.
"Eet is cold in ere. Could you talk da spirits inta passin a little warmth ar way?" Felika says with a whisper.
Orkimedes glaces up from the glowing stone in his hand and gives her an angry look. The muscles in his creeks tighten, the vein in his forehead bulges out.
"I told you woman, I am out of touch with the elements right now! Even if they listened to me, I wouldn't ask them such an insulting task." The shaman replies with a growl.
Felika's face goes hard as a flash of hot anger lights up her eyes. To come all this way to spend a night of passion with the one that she loves, only to have him turn so distant, is an insult that would no orc woman in her prime would tolerate. Many an unwary orc would find an axe in his back for such a thing.
The tension in the room is thick as Felika glares balefully, the muscles across her voluptuous nude body ripple with apprehension.
Orkimedes ignores his mate as he goes back to staring at the glowing stone, rolling it back and forth in his fingers.
"Ey would make ya a deal mah love" Felika says with a dangerous sneer "Ey weel git us sum food and more of dat wine, if you weel talk ta me about buildin us a house an settlin in Orgrimmar"
Orkimedes rolls onto his side trying to ignore the conversation.
"Comon... wit all dah gold dat Garrosh gave yah we could build a grand home on dah bluffs. We could have servents and a few slaves."
The woman's words are like daggers to the old shaman.
"Orkimedes, ey am talkin to yah!" Felika says angrily. "We could have a good life in Durator! We could evin have a child of our own."
The shaman rolls back over and takes a deep breath as he stares blankly into the stone. "No Felika... No. I won't be going back to Orgrimmar anytime soon. I have to return to the Throne of the Elements in Draenor. My work here is done, and I have a long atonement ahead of me if I ever want to get back in the good graces of the elements." Orkimedes says flatly.
The room goes silent once again. The woman's face gets tense and angry.
Suddenly, and without warning, Felika lunges forward onto the bed like a lioness leaping on her prey. In a flash she clamps her steely hands around the fallen shaman's throat. Her eyes sharp with fury and hatred, all of the muscles across her body bulging like iron cables.
In sheer surprise, Orkimedes tries to fight back against the woman atop him. He kicks and struggles in vain as the mageweave blankets entangle around his legs. His mouth hangs open in a ghastly mask, he gasps desperately for air. With a last ditch futile effort he mouths the words to an old warlock spell that would send her running in abject fear of him. But, her grip on his throat prevents any sound from his mouth.
"You pathetik peon! How dare yew betray me!! Ey waitid for you! Ey gave you mah love, for dis? If you tink you can just walk ah way, you have anodder ting commin." Felika growls, a sinister smile washing across her face. "Eye am not one of those whorse you can just thro a way! Ey am Felika of da Warsong Clan. And ey am yer end..."
With a desperate wheeze the shaman's eyes roll into his skull and he falls limp on the bed. Saliva rolls out of the side of his mouth, and tears wash across his cheeks. The room suddenly goes cold, and the flickering flames of the candles dim and extinguish, as if despite his fallen state, the elements themselves give pause to the passing of the ancient shaman.
In the blankets of the bed, the glowing stone lies. It's intensity seeming to increase with the murderous rage played out before it. The pale green light bathes the room in a sinister hue.
A gentle tapping rattles the door to the room. "Mastwer?" the soft voice of Orkimedes's gruntling breaks the tension.
Felika snaps out of her furious haze and looks wide-eyed around the room. Her gaze falls on the glowing stone as she is transfixed by it's seductive light. The inky black surface of the stone ripples gently, inside the faint outline of a luminous figure can be seen.
The door to the room creaks on it's hinges as it is slowly opened. "Mastwer?" The gruntling says with apprehension.
Felika snaps out of her stupor and jumps out of the bed and races towards the door.
"Eets okay litle one, Master is sleepin rite now" Felika says with a nervous smile. "Go an git dah bags. Weez gunna go fer a walk around Daleran. Ey weel take you to dah toy shop if yer good."
The gruntling smiles broadly and turns back to the common area of the Legerdemain Lounge to fetch the travelling bags. Behind him the door slams suddenly.
Felika turns with her back to the door. She stands in the dark for a moment to catch her breath and collect her wits. Then, with a purpose she hastily puts on her clothes, and snatches the glowing stone from the bed.
"Ey bet you are werth a mountain of gold my litl purty" she utters as she slips the stone into her pocket. With a graceful flourish she opens the door and steps out into the bustling halls of the Legerdmain Lounge and onto the streets of Dalaran beyond.
On the bed lies the lean and sinewy form of an elderly orc. His nude body entangled in the rich velvet blankets of the elaborate bed, he breathes heavily from the exertion of these past several hours. His long grey hair is tied into a knot behind his head. Strange, ornate tattoos adorn his bright green skin, grotesque fel runes and images scribed carelessly across his body.
"Dis wine is magical I tink." Felika says as she sets the empty glass down and shakes a nearby empty bottle. "Puhaps da steword woult bring us sum more?"
Orkimedes snorts at the woman and frowns in disgust as he rolls over and plucks a small glowing stone from the side table.
"You drink too much Felika. Why don't you go downstairs and order us some more food." he commands in a cold, flat tone.
The orc woman frowns back at the old shaman. Her seductive playfulness is gone in an instant. After a brief pause she smiles again and walks slowly to the foot of the bed.
"Eet is cold in ere. Could you talk da spirits inta passin a little warmth ar way?" Felika says with a whisper.
Orkimedes glaces up from the glowing stone in his hand and gives her an angry look. The muscles in his creeks tighten, the vein in his forehead bulges out.
"I told you woman, I am out of touch with the elements right now! Even if they listened to me, I wouldn't ask them such an insulting task." The shaman replies with a growl.
Felika's face goes hard as a flash of hot anger lights up her eyes. To come all this way to spend a night of passion with the one that she loves, only to have him turn so distant, is an insult that would no orc woman in her prime would tolerate. Many an unwary orc would find an axe in his back for such a thing.
The tension in the room is thick as Felika glares balefully, the muscles across her voluptuous nude body ripple with apprehension.
Orkimedes ignores his mate as he goes back to staring at the glowing stone, rolling it back and forth in his fingers.
"Ey would make ya a deal mah love" Felika says with a dangerous sneer "Ey weel git us sum food and more of dat wine, if you weel talk ta me about buildin us a house an settlin in Orgrimmar"
Orkimedes rolls onto his side trying to ignore the conversation.
"Comon... wit all dah gold dat Garrosh gave yah we could build a grand home on dah bluffs. We could have servents and a few slaves."
The woman's words are like daggers to the old shaman.
"Orkimedes, ey am talkin to yah!" Felika says angrily. "We could have a good life in Durator! We could evin have a child of our own."
The shaman rolls back over and takes a deep breath as he stares blankly into the stone. "No Felika... No. I won't be going back to Orgrimmar anytime soon. I have to return to the Throne of the Elements in Draenor. My work here is done, and I have a long atonement ahead of me if I ever want to get back in the good graces of the elements." Orkimedes says flatly.
The room goes silent once again. The woman's face gets tense and angry.
Suddenly, and without warning, Felika lunges forward onto the bed like a lioness leaping on her prey. In a flash she clamps her steely hands around the fallen shaman's throat. Her eyes sharp with fury and hatred, all of the muscles across her body bulging like iron cables.
In sheer surprise, Orkimedes tries to fight back against the woman atop him. He kicks and struggles in vain as the mageweave blankets entangle around his legs. His mouth hangs open in a ghastly mask, he gasps desperately for air. With a last ditch futile effort he mouths the words to an old warlock spell that would send her running in abject fear of him. But, her grip on his throat prevents any sound from his mouth.
"You pathetik peon! How dare yew betray me!! Ey waitid for you! Ey gave you mah love, for dis? If you tink you can just walk ah way, you have anodder ting commin." Felika growls, a sinister smile washing across her face. "Eye am not one of those whorse you can just thro a way! Ey am Felika of da Warsong Clan. And ey am yer end..."
With a desperate wheeze the shaman's eyes roll into his skull and he falls limp on the bed. Saliva rolls out of the side of his mouth, and tears wash across his cheeks. The room suddenly goes cold, and the flickering flames of the candles dim and extinguish, as if despite his fallen state, the elements themselves give pause to the passing of the ancient shaman.
In the blankets of the bed, the glowing stone lies. It's intensity seeming to increase with the murderous rage played out before it. The pale green light bathes the room in a sinister hue.
A gentle tapping rattles the door to the room. "Mastwer?" the soft voice of Orkimedes's gruntling breaks the tension.
Felika snaps out of her furious haze and looks wide-eyed around the room. Her gaze falls on the glowing stone as she is transfixed by it's seductive light. The inky black surface of the stone ripples gently, inside the faint outline of a luminous figure can be seen.
The door to the room creaks on it's hinges as it is slowly opened. "Mastwer?" The gruntling says with apprehension.
Felika snaps out of her stupor and jumps out of the bed and races towards the door.
"Eets okay litle one, Master is sleepin rite now" Felika says with a nervous smile. "Go an git dah bags. Weez gunna go fer a walk around Daleran. Ey weel take you to dah toy shop if yer good."
The gruntling smiles broadly and turns back to the common area of the Legerdemain Lounge to fetch the travelling bags. Behind him the door slams suddenly.
Felika turns with her back to the door. She stands in the dark for a moment to catch her breath and collect her wits. Then, with a purpose she hastily puts on her clothes, and snatches the glowing stone from the bed.
"Ey bet you are werth a mountain of gold my litl purty" she utters as she slips the stone into her pocket. With a graceful flourish she opens the door and steps out into the bustling halls of the Legerdmain Lounge and onto the streets of Dalaran beyond.
Monday, February 18, 2013
pt 50 A reckoning denied
Garrosh Hellscream sits on his massive throne in his beloved hall. He has missed this place, it's smells, it's very atmosphere. Around him are his loyal honor guards, confident that each one would gladly give their lives in his service.
His hall lies in the middle of Warsong Hold, his massive fortress in a land that he conquered. Placed in charge of the Warsong Offensive in Northrend with scores upon scores of determined and fanatical orcs, tauren, trolls, blood elves, and forsaken, all at his beck and command. Their purpose, to hunt down and destroy the human called Arthas, who has taken the title of Lich King.
In the past two years he has worked tirelessly to advance across this frozen continent. Facing all manner of horrors, and defeating them. His Horde scratched, clawed and slashed their way to the very gates of Icecrown, only to have the weakling Thrall order them to form a pact with Trion Fordring and the Argent Crusade. A pact that forced them to fight alongside the cursed humans in order assault Icecrown and kill the Lich King.
Still, he was determined to get to Arthas first, and took great efforts behind the scenes to insure that the best and the brightest of the Horde were ready and equipped to do the job.
However, this night despite the news that Arthas has indeed been slain, Garrosh is in the foulest of moods. Trion refuses to tell him how the Lich King was killed or who did it. None of his mercenary units have returned to report directly, and none of his spies have information. It is all a festering secret bent on robbing him of the ultimate glory of his command.
If he can take direct credit for killing the Lich King and leading the Horde to victory, then perhaps he can have the leverage to challenge that weakling Thrall for the title of Warchief.
His mug of hot Nagrand ale tastes stale and lifeless, just like his mood. He ponders this situation like a pouting child.
"Garrosh!" a familiar voice calles out from the ramp into his war room. "Garrosh, it is Eitrigg!!"
The elderly warrior steps off the ramp and approaches Garrosh's throne. Behind him walks another elderly orc that is vaguely familiar, dressed in the robes of a shaman.
"Eitrigg!" Garrosh says with a scowl "What brings the decrepit dog of the warchief into the frozen north?"
For a moment Garrosh wonders where his spy from Orgrimmar is, the bloated festering death knight is long overdue.
"You speak too boldly and without reverance for your elders boy!!" Eitrigg exclaims "I come with words from your warchief!"
Garrosh clenches his teeth hard, his nostrels flaring in anger.
Suddenly, a terrifying roar echoes from the upper reaches of the fortress. It's rattle reverberating down the stout walls of Warsong Hold.
The Guards leap to attention, moving to shield their beloved Overlord. Garrosh stands, grabbing his matching pair of battle axes.
A shout calls from above "We are under attack!!"
Garrosh and his guard push past the startled emissaries and charge up the ramp to the roof. Each one grinning as they relish the idea of a fight to end the monotony of guard duty.
Once on the lift, the assembled warriors begin to snort and froth, preparing themselves for the fight ahead. Above them, the sounds of a battle echo into the night. Screams and growls along with blood spattering raining upon them from high above. The lift rattles and starts to climb. From the ramp Eitrigg and his shaman come running towards the lift, only to be left behind. Several of the guards along with Garrosh chuckle at the desperate looks on the faces of the elderly orcs.
"They can catch the next lift. Stupid old fools." Garrosh hisses.
The slow moving lift takes forever as the sounds of battle above begin to subside.
"Aye Chief looky ere" one of the honor guards gestures to a broken battle axe on the lift. "Dat looks like Morgut's axe."
Garrosh stares hard at the shattered weapon. He remembers giving that blade to Morgut as a reward for leading a warband that held off a particularly vicious scourge attack.
As the lift finally reaches the top of the fortress Garrosh sees several of his faithful honor guard sprawled like bloodly rag dolls across the icy platform. Against the battlements stands Morgut, and before him crouches a gore covered tauren druid in lion form.
"Who dares to interrupt my celebration!!" Garrosh Hellscream bellows
The oily beast turns around, his baleful yellow eyes shining in the night, in them everyone present can see a sort of intelligent madness. The beast snorts and moves cautiously towards Garrosh, neglecting the former object of his attention.
"Garrosh Hellscream!" the beast utters in an otherworldy voice that echoes across the battlements and into the cold northrend night. "At last justice can be done. At last we can have a reckoning for the bloodshed and evil you have brought to this world!"
"Then come demon, and I will bathe this fortress in your blood and entrails!"
"Your broken body will be dragged across Azeroth for all to see. Only when you have suffered, as you made poor Meekha suffer, and you have made me suffer, will be dismembered and allowed to freeze into the glaciers of Northrend for all eternity."
Morgut takes his opportunity to inch forward as the beasts back is turned to him. Clenching his sword tightly he prepares to leap.
"No! This abomination is mine!!" Garrosh steps forward, his brown knuckles turning white as he grips his axes tightly. The honor guard step backwards, each one greatly anticipating the chance to see their master in action.
Suddenly, the fell-druid changes into a massive bear. Then, to their amazement his bones begin to crack, his flesh begins to boil, and the wretched beast begins to grow. It howls in pain as it's body takes on a massive shape. It's fur turns black and oily, it's broad face lengthens and looks something like a cross between a dire bear and a worg.
With an unnatural and earthshattering roar the abomination lunges forward, his massive black claws like glistening sabers. The power in his hind leg buckling the wooden timbers as he charges, his thundering paws shaking the ground like cavalry.
With one smooth and graceful motion, Garrosh steps to the side to avoid being trampled, and brings his mighty axe down into the forehead of the beast. The razor sharp blade bites into his thick skull. Stopping the mighty monster in it's tracks. With a sickening crash the druid falls and slides across the icy platform.
The honor guard suddenly roar with cheers and shouts as Garrosh stands triumphantly over the carcass of the defeated attacker. Never did they think he would bring the loathsome animal down with one strike of his axe.
Before their eyes, the creature shrinks down to a dire bear, then it shifts form to that of a gore covered tauren as it sighs it's final breath.
"So much for your pathetic reckoning beast!" Garrosh exclaims with a toothy smile.
Without warning, Morgut leaps at Garrosh, his sword swinging wildly at the brown skinned orc. His blade bites into Garrosh's thigh, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
"My reckoning has just begun Nagrand dog!! By your death Calmfury will be redeemed!!" Morgut says in a other-worldly voice.
A surprised Garrosh swings wildly with his axe, catching the orc corporal in the midsection. His body falling to the floor, nearly severed in two.
Instantly, a troll guardsman charges forward, and once again Garrosh spins around and slices the assailant in half.
"What is happening!?!" Garrosh exclaims
Another orc guardsman hurls his axe at Garrosh and lunges forward to grab him. The axe narrowly missed his head as Garrosh brings both of his blades down, severing the shoulders of the guard at his neck.
"You cannot stop me!! You will have to kill everyone in this fortress. You cannot fight forever boy!!"
Wide-eyed, Garrosh swings his axe and severs the head of the possessed orc.
Behind him the bloodied form of an orc woman in armor leaps on Garrosh's back. A thin dagger in her hand plunges into his shoulder. Garrosh howls in pain and anger as he grabs the woman and tosses her into the nearby wall. Her body making a sickly crunch as she hits hard, her battered face staring blankly at the Overlord.
"This is madness!! What kind of demon is this?!? Who is Calmfury.... Calmfury?!?"
Garrosh's eyes widen in realization.
A guardsman rushes forward, his shield held in front of him and his sword swinging wildly above him. Garrosh swings hard, imbedding his axe in the broad shield. The orc stabs clumsily with the sword, trying in vain to sink the blade into the Overlord's brown flesh.
"Haha You fight like a worthless peon with your sword. You don't even know how to use it. Give it up Calmfury, if you are that pathetic wretch I slaughtered so long ago."
The possessed guard howls in contempt as another guardsman moves behind him and splits his skull with his axe.
Then, the avenging guardsman drops his axe and rips off his thick breastplate.
"You are correct Garrosh, killing you with my claws is much more rewarding."
Before Garrosh can react the orc fluidly changes into the twisted form of a hairless green bear. The foul beast lunges with its claws slashing at Garrosh and biting down on his thigh. The Overlord howls in pain once again as blood trickles down his leg.
Dropping his axes, Garrosh grips the unnatural creature tightly as if he is squeezing the life out of it.
"The rest of you guards... jump off the battlements before the demon steals your body." Garrosh commands. The bewildered guards stand in confusion as they consider this horror that is using them to kill their leader. Not one of them obeys his command.
With a sickening crack, the back of the orc bear is broken and the beast falls limp to the ground before changing back into an orc guardsman.
A tauren guard springs on Garrosh, slamming his massive fists into his head. He pummels and pummels the brown orc drawing blood from a split lip and his nose. Garrosh grapples the tauren in desperation, lifting the bull off the ground. The possessed tauren slips his meaty hands around Garrosh's neck and begins choking the life out of him. For a moment the overlord's strength fails and his eyes begin to bulge in his head as he gasps for breath.
"Feel it ebb away Garrosh. Feel your wretched life pass away. You will never live to be a great leader like your father. Instead, you will die in this cold wilderness, killed by your own guardsmen."
Suddenly, the taurens eyes go blank as he releases his grip on Garrosh's throat. The overlord staggers back as he gasps for air. He assailant falls helplessly to the ground. Behind him, Eitrigg and his shaman companion stand. From the hand of the shaman comes a magic that seems to suck the very soul out of the tauren.
"I have him brother. Whatever that was is now contained" Orkimedes whispers. He opens his hand to reveal a glowing soulstone.
"Garrosh, are you okay?" Eitrigg says in astonishment.
The brown orc looks at the pair with fury and confusion in his eyes.
"Where did that thing go?"
"It is gone" replies Orkimedes.
Four very timid honor guard cautiously step forward. All that is left of the mighty host that joined Garrosh on the lift. The rest left broken and bleeding on the fortress platform.
"Garrosh, I have come by order of Thrall himself to bring you back to Orgrimmar." Eitrigg says in a commanding tone.
Garrosh stares at him blankly for a moment... as if he is trying in vain to make sense of the whole situation, of everything that has happened this night. Was that, thing, Calmfury the defiant, miserable tauren he killed last year in Icecrown? Who the hell is Meekha? So many of his beloved guardsmen lay dead at his feet. Some that he even called friends, killed by his own hand.
If this beast comes again he will be prepared. He must consult with the warlocks in Orgrimmar on this matter.
"Very well" replies the Overlord as his retrieves his bloodied axes. "Guardsman, prepare my things for departure. The sooner I am out of this place the better."
Orkimedes stares out at the frozen horizon as he palms the soulstone into his pack. He knows that the elements will never forgive him this sin, using this forbidden power. His only recourse will be to return to the Throne of Elements and try to atone. Felika will not understand.
His hall lies in the middle of Warsong Hold, his massive fortress in a land that he conquered. Placed in charge of the Warsong Offensive in Northrend with scores upon scores of determined and fanatical orcs, tauren, trolls, blood elves, and forsaken, all at his beck and command. Their purpose, to hunt down and destroy the human called Arthas, who has taken the title of Lich King.
In the past two years he has worked tirelessly to advance across this frozen continent. Facing all manner of horrors, and defeating them. His Horde scratched, clawed and slashed their way to the very gates of Icecrown, only to have the weakling Thrall order them to form a pact with Trion Fordring and the Argent Crusade. A pact that forced them to fight alongside the cursed humans in order assault Icecrown and kill the Lich King.
Still, he was determined to get to Arthas first, and took great efforts behind the scenes to insure that the best and the brightest of the Horde were ready and equipped to do the job.
However, this night despite the news that Arthas has indeed been slain, Garrosh is in the foulest of moods. Trion refuses to tell him how the Lich King was killed or who did it. None of his mercenary units have returned to report directly, and none of his spies have information. It is all a festering secret bent on robbing him of the ultimate glory of his command.
If he can take direct credit for killing the Lich King and leading the Horde to victory, then perhaps he can have the leverage to challenge that weakling Thrall for the title of Warchief.
His mug of hot Nagrand ale tastes stale and lifeless, just like his mood. He ponders this situation like a pouting child.
"Garrosh!" a familiar voice calles out from the ramp into his war room. "Garrosh, it is Eitrigg!!"
The elderly warrior steps off the ramp and approaches Garrosh's throne. Behind him walks another elderly orc that is vaguely familiar, dressed in the robes of a shaman.
"Eitrigg!" Garrosh says with a scowl "What brings the decrepit dog of the warchief into the frozen north?"
For a moment Garrosh wonders where his spy from Orgrimmar is, the bloated festering death knight is long overdue.
"You speak too boldly and without reverance for your elders boy!!" Eitrigg exclaims "I come with words from your warchief!"
Garrosh clenches his teeth hard, his nostrels flaring in anger.
Suddenly, a terrifying roar echoes from the upper reaches of the fortress. It's rattle reverberating down the stout walls of Warsong Hold.
The Guards leap to attention, moving to shield their beloved Overlord. Garrosh stands, grabbing his matching pair of battle axes.
A shout calls from above "We are under attack!!"
Garrosh and his guard push past the startled emissaries and charge up the ramp to the roof. Each one grinning as they relish the idea of a fight to end the monotony of guard duty.
Once on the lift, the assembled warriors begin to snort and froth, preparing themselves for the fight ahead. Above them, the sounds of a battle echo into the night. Screams and growls along with blood spattering raining upon them from high above. The lift rattles and starts to climb. From the ramp Eitrigg and his shaman come running towards the lift, only to be left behind. Several of the guards along with Garrosh chuckle at the desperate looks on the faces of the elderly orcs.
"They can catch the next lift. Stupid old fools." Garrosh hisses.
The slow moving lift takes forever as the sounds of battle above begin to subside.
"Aye Chief looky ere" one of the honor guards gestures to a broken battle axe on the lift. "Dat looks like Morgut's axe."
Garrosh stares hard at the shattered weapon. He remembers giving that blade to Morgut as a reward for leading a warband that held off a particularly vicious scourge attack.
As the lift finally reaches the top of the fortress Garrosh sees several of his faithful honor guard sprawled like bloodly rag dolls across the icy platform. Against the battlements stands Morgut, and before him crouches a gore covered tauren druid in lion form.
"Who dares to interrupt my celebration!!" Garrosh Hellscream bellows
The oily beast turns around, his baleful yellow eyes shining in the night, in them everyone present can see a sort of intelligent madness. The beast snorts and moves cautiously towards Garrosh, neglecting the former object of his attention.
"Garrosh Hellscream!" the beast utters in an otherworldy voice that echoes across the battlements and into the cold northrend night. "At last justice can be done. At last we can have a reckoning for the bloodshed and evil you have brought to this world!"
"Then come demon, and I will bathe this fortress in your blood and entrails!"
"Your broken body will be dragged across Azeroth for all to see. Only when you have suffered, as you made poor Meekha suffer, and you have made me suffer, will be dismembered and allowed to freeze into the glaciers of Northrend for all eternity."
Morgut takes his opportunity to inch forward as the beasts back is turned to him. Clenching his sword tightly he prepares to leap.
"No! This abomination is mine!!" Garrosh steps forward, his brown knuckles turning white as he grips his axes tightly. The honor guard step backwards, each one greatly anticipating the chance to see their master in action.
Suddenly, the fell-druid changes into a massive bear. Then, to their amazement his bones begin to crack, his flesh begins to boil, and the wretched beast begins to grow. It howls in pain as it's body takes on a massive shape. It's fur turns black and oily, it's broad face lengthens and looks something like a cross between a dire bear and a worg.
With an unnatural and earthshattering roar the abomination lunges forward, his massive black claws like glistening sabers. The power in his hind leg buckling the wooden timbers as he charges, his thundering paws shaking the ground like cavalry.
With one smooth and graceful motion, Garrosh steps to the side to avoid being trampled, and brings his mighty axe down into the forehead of the beast. The razor sharp blade bites into his thick skull. Stopping the mighty monster in it's tracks. With a sickening crash the druid falls and slides across the icy platform.
The honor guard suddenly roar with cheers and shouts as Garrosh stands triumphantly over the carcass of the defeated attacker. Never did they think he would bring the loathsome animal down with one strike of his axe.
Before their eyes, the creature shrinks down to a dire bear, then it shifts form to that of a gore covered tauren as it sighs it's final breath.
"So much for your pathetic reckoning beast!" Garrosh exclaims with a toothy smile.
Without warning, Morgut leaps at Garrosh, his sword swinging wildly at the brown skinned orc. His blade bites into Garrosh's thigh, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
"My reckoning has just begun Nagrand dog!! By your death Calmfury will be redeemed!!" Morgut says in a other-worldly voice.
A surprised Garrosh swings wildly with his axe, catching the orc corporal in the midsection. His body falling to the floor, nearly severed in two.
Instantly, a troll guardsman charges forward, and once again Garrosh spins around and slices the assailant in half.
"What is happening!?!" Garrosh exclaims
Another orc guardsman hurls his axe at Garrosh and lunges forward to grab him. The axe narrowly missed his head as Garrosh brings both of his blades down, severing the shoulders of the guard at his neck.
"You cannot stop me!! You will have to kill everyone in this fortress. You cannot fight forever boy!!"
Wide-eyed, Garrosh swings his axe and severs the head of the possessed orc.
Behind him the bloodied form of an orc woman in armor leaps on Garrosh's back. A thin dagger in her hand plunges into his shoulder. Garrosh howls in pain and anger as he grabs the woman and tosses her into the nearby wall. Her body making a sickly crunch as she hits hard, her battered face staring blankly at the Overlord.
"This is madness!! What kind of demon is this?!? Who is Calmfury.... Calmfury?!?"
Garrosh's eyes widen in realization.
A guardsman rushes forward, his shield held in front of him and his sword swinging wildly above him. Garrosh swings hard, imbedding his axe in the broad shield. The orc stabs clumsily with the sword, trying in vain to sink the blade into the Overlord's brown flesh.
"Haha You fight like a worthless peon with your sword. You don't even know how to use it. Give it up Calmfury, if you are that pathetic wretch I slaughtered so long ago."
The possessed guard howls in contempt as another guardsman moves behind him and splits his skull with his axe.
Then, the avenging guardsman drops his axe and rips off his thick breastplate.
"You are correct Garrosh, killing you with my claws is much more rewarding."
Before Garrosh can react the orc fluidly changes into the twisted form of a hairless green bear. The foul beast lunges with its claws slashing at Garrosh and biting down on his thigh. The Overlord howls in pain once again as blood trickles down his leg.
Dropping his axes, Garrosh grips the unnatural creature tightly as if he is squeezing the life out of it.
"The rest of you guards... jump off the battlements before the demon steals your body." Garrosh commands. The bewildered guards stand in confusion as they consider this horror that is using them to kill their leader. Not one of them obeys his command.
With a sickening crack, the back of the orc bear is broken and the beast falls limp to the ground before changing back into an orc guardsman.
A tauren guard springs on Garrosh, slamming his massive fists into his head. He pummels and pummels the brown orc drawing blood from a split lip and his nose. Garrosh grapples the tauren in desperation, lifting the bull off the ground. The possessed tauren slips his meaty hands around Garrosh's neck and begins choking the life out of him. For a moment the overlord's strength fails and his eyes begin to bulge in his head as he gasps for breath.
"Feel it ebb away Garrosh. Feel your wretched life pass away. You will never live to be a great leader like your father. Instead, you will die in this cold wilderness, killed by your own guardsmen."
Suddenly, the taurens eyes go blank as he releases his grip on Garrosh's throat. The overlord staggers back as he gasps for air. He assailant falls helplessly to the ground. Behind him, Eitrigg and his shaman companion stand. From the hand of the shaman comes a magic that seems to suck the very soul out of the tauren.
"I have him brother. Whatever that was is now contained" Orkimedes whispers. He opens his hand to reveal a glowing soulstone.
"Garrosh, are you okay?" Eitrigg says in astonishment.
The brown orc looks at the pair with fury and confusion in his eyes.
"Where did that thing go?"
"It is gone" replies Orkimedes.
Four very timid honor guard cautiously step forward. All that is left of the mighty host that joined Garrosh on the lift. The rest left broken and bleeding on the fortress platform.
"Garrosh, I have come by order of Thrall himself to bring you back to Orgrimmar." Eitrigg says in a commanding tone.
Garrosh stares at him blankly for a moment... as if he is trying in vain to make sense of the whole situation, of everything that has happened this night. Was that, thing, Calmfury the defiant, miserable tauren he killed last year in Icecrown? Who the hell is Meekha? So many of his beloved guardsmen lay dead at his feet. Some that he even called friends, killed by his own hand.
If this beast comes again he will be prepared. He must consult with the warlocks in Orgrimmar on this matter.
"Very well" replies the Overlord as his retrieves his bloodied axes. "Guardsman, prepare my things for departure. The sooner I am out of this place the better."
Orkimedes stares out at the frozen horizon as he palms the soulstone into his pack. He knows that the elements will never forgive him this sin, using this forbidden power. His only recourse will be to return to the Throne of Elements and try to atone. Felika will not understand.
pt 49 Death comes on a bloody wing.
The cold, merciless wind of Northrend howls across the battlements of Warsong Hold. Several figures huddle in the darkened night around a flaming brazier. Drinking up every ounce of warmth that the inadequate flame can produce.
"So, wut do yous tink about dah Garrosh coming back frum Icecrown tuday? A burly orc warrior in menacing armor says. His red tabard flapping in the icy wind.
Another warrior, this one a female, dressed in thick hides adored with spiky metal studs look at her fellow guardsman and rolls her eyes
"Isn't it obvius? I thout even ah kodohead like yerself would figur eet out. Dah Lichking is ded! Weer all goin home soon!"
The burly orc scoffs loudly, his hot breath rising like a vapor cloud into the night sky.
"Yew may be be-youtyful Anga but you sur ar stoopid sometimz. Har har!! Dah Lick King cant beh killd. Dats why heez dah king of dah undead!!
The orc woman glares balefully at the guardsman. A low growl rising up in her throat.
Off in the distance, the familiar sound of the zepplin motor cuts through the frosty night.
"Sumone should make yah eat yer tusks Morgut!!" The woman hisses.
"Haha!! is dat gonna be you yah lousy git? I dunt tink so! Ya coldnt even raize a welp on my hide yah old hag!!
Morgut turns in disgust and look about the icy platform at the collection of vigilant yet miserable guardsmen. The rattle of the nearby elevator chain breaks the tension.
"If yah didunt have such a thik skull yah mite see dat Garrosh haz been down in dah hall celibratin and laffin. Weez goin home soon an yew dont wanna admeet it!!"
The loud horn of the goblin zepplin sends a shudder through all the chilly guardsman as the bloated skyship enters the docking area of the massive fortress below.
The orc guardsman turns and spits as he leers at the tauren wind rider master standing nearby. His glob of phlem and spit turning to ice before it hits the platform.
"If dats tru den why hasnt he told anywon yet? And why didunt Saurfang come bak wit ehm?
"I heard that Saurfang found his son in Icecrown, and that the Lichking had changed him. The pathetic old orc had to kill his own beloved son." says another nearby guardsman, this one a Forsaken.
"Ey shoult break yer rotten back fer talkin about Saurfang like dat. He's a hero! Yah festering whelp!" The burly orc says with a growl. "As fer you... Imma gonna make sur yah never get home! Dunno wut yer all fired up tah leave for, yer weedy husbands prolly ran off wit some troll wench!! Harhar!!"
With a loud clatter the sword and shield of Anga hit the floor and she leaps forward like a vicious lioness at the guard corporal. With vengence and rage fuelled strength she wrenches him off his feet and slams him into the battlements. Morgut's massive axe falls from his grip and skitters across the platform, falling down the shaft of the nearby elevator lift.
The startled corporal rises to his feet and lunges at the defiant orc woman with a growl. The pair lock in mortal combat pulling and wrestling with one another.
The half a dozen guardsman scurry across the platform, not to stop the fight, but to watch every bloody detail of the attempted coup. Anything to break of the monotony of the endless frozen night.
"Stop it you two!!" Turida Coldwind, the Tauren Wind Rider Master barks out.
Morgut deftly slams the defiant woman onto her back and straddles her to hold her down.
"I'm gonna give dat purty face of yers a nasty scar tah teech you a lessun!!"
The Corporal slams his fist into Anga's face, knocking her leather helmet off her head. Then again, snapping one of her tusks and sending a shower of blood across the deck.
The woman tries in vain to push him off of her, but another flurry of fists into her head knocks her senseless.
With wide-eyed abandon Morgut continues to pummel the helpless guardsman. Savoring the lucious feeling of battle, of taking something that is beautiful and turning it into a bloody pulp.
Suddenly, out of the frosty night sky a massive shape falls onto the deck. Its black oily fur contrasting with the icy wooden planks of the platform. The creature slams into the crowd of unsuspecting guardsmen with a terrifying howl. In an instant steely claws and ripping fangs tears through armor, sending a spray of blood into the night.
Morgut lifts himself off the prone woman and stares wide-eyed for a moment at the nightmare that is tearing into his guardsmen. It looks vaguely like a black lion with bloody horns jutting from its head. He has seen plenty of tauren druids in his time, but somehow this one is larger, with malevolent yellow eyes, filled with a sort of madness.
The creature sinks his fangs into the belly of the Forsaken guard, and then with its claws it tears the poor rotten bastard in two. One of the guards manages to draw his sword and take of swipe at the lion, but the creature deftly ducks out of the way and leaps on the guardsman in return, knocking him to the floor and mauling him like a ragdoll.
Morgut suddenly comes to his senses and grabs Anga's nearby sword. He then turns to the wind rider master.
"Turida!! Climb on yer wyvern and go git some elp!! Tellum to raise dah alarm, weez under attack!!"
The horrified tauren shakes her head and leaps on the back of her nearby flying mount. The addled wyvern, shaken by the smell of blood and the sounds of fighting, leaps clumsily into the night sky.
Morgut turns to see the last guardsman finished off by the monsterous, insane druid. He steels himself for battle, gripping his sword tightly.
"Aye am Morgut Spineripper!! Corporal of dah Warsong Battleguard an da veteran of da Great War! Ey surviv'd dread lords, I suffer'd at dah hands of the alliance, and I fougt my way into dis icy land. All deese tings I survived... and I weell come ta victery ova you!"
The yellow-eyed sable lion licks the gore off it's fangs as it turns to face the corporal. It moves with cat like grace towards him, ready to pounce. Suddenly it's muscles tense up, Morgut braces himself for the inevitable clash.
"Who dares to interrupt my celebration!!" Garrosh Hellscream bellows as the lift rises to the top of the platform. With him are several heavily armored guards.
Morgut breathes a sigh of relief.
"So, wut do yous tink about dah Garrosh coming back frum Icecrown tuday? A burly orc warrior in menacing armor says. His red tabard flapping in the icy wind.
Another warrior, this one a female, dressed in thick hides adored with spiky metal studs look at her fellow guardsman and rolls her eyes
"Isn't it obvius? I thout even ah kodohead like yerself would figur eet out. Dah Lichking is ded! Weer all goin home soon!"
The burly orc scoffs loudly, his hot breath rising like a vapor cloud into the night sky.
"Yew may be be-youtyful Anga but you sur ar stoopid sometimz. Har har!! Dah Lick King cant beh killd. Dats why heez dah king of dah undead!!
The orc woman glares balefully at the guardsman. A low growl rising up in her throat.
Off in the distance, the familiar sound of the zepplin motor cuts through the frosty night.
"Sumone should make yah eat yer tusks Morgut!!" The woman hisses.
"Haha!! is dat gonna be you yah lousy git? I dunt tink so! Ya coldnt even raize a welp on my hide yah old hag!!
Morgut turns in disgust and look about the icy platform at the collection of vigilant yet miserable guardsmen. The rattle of the nearby elevator chain breaks the tension.
"If yah didunt have such a thik skull yah mite see dat Garrosh haz been down in dah hall celibratin and laffin. Weez goin home soon an yew dont wanna admeet it!!"
The loud horn of the goblin zepplin sends a shudder through all the chilly guardsman as the bloated skyship enters the docking area of the massive fortress below.
The orc guardsman turns and spits as he leers at the tauren wind rider master standing nearby. His glob of phlem and spit turning to ice before it hits the platform.
"If dats tru den why hasnt he told anywon yet? And why didunt Saurfang come bak wit ehm?
"I heard that Saurfang found his son in Icecrown, and that the Lichking had changed him. The pathetic old orc had to kill his own beloved son." says another nearby guardsman, this one a Forsaken.
"Ey shoult break yer rotten back fer talkin about Saurfang like dat. He's a hero! Yah festering whelp!" The burly orc says with a growl. "As fer you... Imma gonna make sur yah never get home! Dunno wut yer all fired up tah leave for, yer weedy husbands prolly ran off wit some troll wench!! Harhar!!"
With a loud clatter the sword and shield of Anga hit the floor and she leaps forward like a vicious lioness at the guard corporal. With vengence and rage fuelled strength she wrenches him off his feet and slams him into the battlements. Morgut's massive axe falls from his grip and skitters across the platform, falling down the shaft of the nearby elevator lift.
The startled corporal rises to his feet and lunges at the defiant orc woman with a growl. The pair lock in mortal combat pulling and wrestling with one another.
The half a dozen guardsman scurry across the platform, not to stop the fight, but to watch every bloody detail of the attempted coup. Anything to break of the monotony of the endless frozen night.
"Stop it you two!!" Turida Coldwind, the Tauren Wind Rider Master barks out.
Morgut deftly slams the defiant woman onto her back and straddles her to hold her down.
"I'm gonna give dat purty face of yers a nasty scar tah teech you a lessun!!"
The Corporal slams his fist into Anga's face, knocking her leather helmet off her head. Then again, snapping one of her tusks and sending a shower of blood across the deck.
The woman tries in vain to push him off of her, but another flurry of fists into her head knocks her senseless.
With wide-eyed abandon Morgut continues to pummel the helpless guardsman. Savoring the lucious feeling of battle, of taking something that is beautiful and turning it into a bloody pulp.
Suddenly, out of the frosty night sky a massive shape falls onto the deck. Its black oily fur contrasting with the icy wooden planks of the platform. The creature slams into the crowd of unsuspecting guardsmen with a terrifying howl. In an instant steely claws and ripping fangs tears through armor, sending a spray of blood into the night.
Morgut lifts himself off the prone woman and stares wide-eyed for a moment at the nightmare that is tearing into his guardsmen. It looks vaguely like a black lion with bloody horns jutting from its head. He has seen plenty of tauren druids in his time, but somehow this one is larger, with malevolent yellow eyes, filled with a sort of madness.
The creature sinks his fangs into the belly of the Forsaken guard, and then with its claws it tears the poor rotten bastard in two. One of the guards manages to draw his sword and take of swipe at the lion, but the creature deftly ducks out of the way and leaps on the guardsman in return, knocking him to the floor and mauling him like a ragdoll.
Morgut suddenly comes to his senses and grabs Anga's nearby sword. He then turns to the wind rider master.
"Turida!! Climb on yer wyvern and go git some elp!! Tellum to raise dah alarm, weez under attack!!"
The horrified tauren shakes her head and leaps on the back of her nearby flying mount. The addled wyvern, shaken by the smell of blood and the sounds of fighting, leaps clumsily into the night sky.
Morgut turns to see the last guardsman finished off by the monsterous, insane druid. He steels himself for battle, gripping his sword tightly.
"Aye am Morgut Spineripper!! Corporal of dah Warsong Battleguard an da veteran of da Great War! Ey surviv'd dread lords, I suffer'd at dah hands of the alliance, and I fougt my way into dis icy land. All deese tings I survived... and I weell come ta victery ova you!"
The yellow-eyed sable lion licks the gore off it's fangs as it turns to face the corporal. It moves with cat like grace towards him, ready to pounce. Suddenly it's muscles tense up, Morgut braces himself for the inevitable clash.
"Who dares to interrupt my celebration!!" Garrosh Hellscream bellows as the lift rises to the top of the platform. With him are several heavily armored guards.
Morgut breathes a sigh of relief.
pt 48 The price of failure
"Do not walk away from me little brother!! I don't understand why you won't listen to reason." Eitrigg says as he stands indignantly in the shade of the gates of Orgrimmar.
The midday heat is nearly stifling.
"No brother, no I say! I cannot accept the fact that you betrayed the truth for the sake of peace! I watched you lie to your warchief, to protect a sniveling brat!!" Orkimedes barks harshly in response.
His tiny little gruntling standing nearby gets a wide eyed look on his face as he drops a heavy backpack on the ground.
Eitrigg bounds foreward and grabs his brothers arm forcibly.
"Keep your voice down!" he hisses. "I did what I did to protect our nation and our people. Besides, you should be thankful, I brought you glory and accolade for exposing the entire plot against the orphans."
"But, without telling him that Garrosh is responsible, that glory you speak of is hollow."
The two brothers square off and stare at one another for a long, painful moment.
"Eitrigg, you did not see what Garrosh was like while he was in Nagrand. Before Thrall found him he was a brooding, abusive, hatefilled child. Without his father to instruct him properly, he became a festering sore to the orcs of Garadar. Brother, he is still that spoiled child, only difference now is that he has a purpose, and a much bigger group to bully and abuse." Orkimedes whispers.
Eitrigg walks past his brother, and into the burning midday sun. The hot Durotar wind stirs up a cloud of red dust.
"Dretrigg, you don't understand what is really going on here. Our enemy stalks us like a hungry lion. The humans and their allies are closing in all around us, and our people are fearful. The drums of war are pounding relentlessly. As much as I am sick of war, this conflict will be at our gates if we don't prepare. Also, the shamans keep telling of a sort of stirring with the elements, like an impending doom is coming. Thrall himself has felt it as well."
Eitrigg pauses as the creaking goblin zepplin slowly comes to a stop at the tower above them.
"We need Garrosh! The Horde puts great faith in him. He is the kind of leader that they once saw in the Great War, full of fire and fury. If the future holds conflict for our people, then Garrosh may be the kind of relic we need from our bloody past."
Orkimedes stares contemptuously at his older brother, his nostrels flaring in rage and frustration. The truth of his words ring clear.
"You made your point brother. If anything, living in the court of a warchief has given you a sharp tongue for political maneuvers"
A loud, earsplitting horn blows from the zepplin above. The sound echoing off the sandstone hills of Durotaur.
"Good!! Now lets hurry, we have a boat to catch to Warsong Hold. Thrall wants this message delivered to Garrosh as quick as we can." Eitrigg snorts with a wily grin.
The nearby Gruntling heaves his heavy pack out of the red dust and turns to follow the two orcs up the long ramp to the Goblin Zepplin above. As they top the tower and step onto the deck of the zepplin, they notice that the railing on one side of the boat has been tore off.
"Captain, what happened to the railing here!?!" Eitrigg exclaims to the weedy little goblin in the big hat.
"Some git got in a fight wit another git." Sky-Captain LaFontaine exclaims in his raspy voice. "They both took a tumble off the side. Serves them right!"
Orkimedes glaces across the deck and notices a strange brown raven of unusual size sitting on the bow of the ship. Two sharp horns jut from it's head and dried blood and gore covers it's feathery hide. The bird glares at him with intelligent and malevolent eyes.
"Well, get that railing repaired! The warchief doesn't pay you as well as he does to maintain a ragged ship!" Eitrigg exclaims with a snort at the ostentatious goblin.
"Brother, I have a bad feeling about this trip. I am seeing fell omens" the grey shaman says with a whisper as the obnoxious motor of the goblin ship roars to life.
Eitrigg stares wide-eyed at his brother for a moment. Knowing full well not to question the word of a shaman, even if he is his little brother.
"We must go Dretrigg, we are on an important mission for the warchief. May the ancestors protect us!"
"Indeed" Orkimedes says, as the zepplin pulls away from the tower.
The midday heat is nearly stifling.
"No brother, no I say! I cannot accept the fact that you betrayed the truth for the sake of peace! I watched you lie to your warchief, to protect a sniveling brat!!" Orkimedes barks harshly in response.
His tiny little gruntling standing nearby gets a wide eyed look on his face as he drops a heavy backpack on the ground.
Eitrigg bounds foreward and grabs his brothers arm forcibly.
"Keep your voice down!" he hisses. "I did what I did to protect our nation and our people. Besides, you should be thankful, I brought you glory and accolade for exposing the entire plot against the orphans."
"But, without telling him that Garrosh is responsible, that glory you speak of is hollow."
The two brothers square off and stare at one another for a long, painful moment.
"Eitrigg, you did not see what Garrosh was like while he was in Nagrand. Before Thrall found him he was a brooding, abusive, hatefilled child. Without his father to instruct him properly, he became a festering sore to the orcs of Garadar. Brother, he is still that spoiled child, only difference now is that he has a purpose, and a much bigger group to bully and abuse." Orkimedes whispers.
Eitrigg walks past his brother, and into the burning midday sun. The hot Durotar wind stirs up a cloud of red dust.
"Dretrigg, you don't understand what is really going on here. Our enemy stalks us like a hungry lion. The humans and their allies are closing in all around us, and our people are fearful. The drums of war are pounding relentlessly. As much as I am sick of war, this conflict will be at our gates if we don't prepare. Also, the shamans keep telling of a sort of stirring with the elements, like an impending doom is coming. Thrall himself has felt it as well."
Eitrigg pauses as the creaking goblin zepplin slowly comes to a stop at the tower above them.
"We need Garrosh! The Horde puts great faith in him. He is the kind of leader that they once saw in the Great War, full of fire and fury. If the future holds conflict for our people, then Garrosh may be the kind of relic we need from our bloody past."
Orkimedes stares contemptuously at his older brother, his nostrels flaring in rage and frustration. The truth of his words ring clear.
"You made your point brother. If anything, living in the court of a warchief has given you a sharp tongue for political maneuvers"
A loud, earsplitting horn blows from the zepplin above. The sound echoing off the sandstone hills of Durotaur.
"Good!! Now lets hurry, we have a boat to catch to Warsong Hold. Thrall wants this message delivered to Garrosh as quick as we can." Eitrigg snorts with a wily grin.
The nearby Gruntling heaves his heavy pack out of the red dust and turns to follow the two orcs up the long ramp to the Goblin Zepplin above. As they top the tower and step onto the deck of the zepplin, they notice that the railing on one side of the boat has been tore off.
"Captain, what happened to the railing here!?!" Eitrigg exclaims to the weedy little goblin in the big hat.
"Some git got in a fight wit another git." Sky-Captain LaFontaine exclaims in his raspy voice. "They both took a tumble off the side. Serves them right!"
Orkimedes glaces across the deck and notices a strange brown raven of unusual size sitting on the bow of the ship. Two sharp horns jut from it's head and dried blood and gore covers it's feathery hide. The bird glares at him with intelligent and malevolent eyes.
"Well, get that railing repaired! The warchief doesn't pay you as well as he does to maintain a ragged ship!" Eitrigg exclaims with a snort at the ostentatious goblin.
"Brother, I have a bad feeling about this trip. I am seeing fell omens" the grey shaman says with a whisper as the obnoxious motor of the goblin ship roars to life.
Eitrigg stares wide-eyed at his brother for a moment. Knowing full well not to question the word of a shaman, even if he is his little brother.
"We must go Dretrigg, we are on an important mission for the warchief. May the ancestors protect us!"
"Indeed" Orkimedes says, as the zepplin pulls away from the tower.
Monday, November 15, 2010
pt 47 Descent into villany
I don't think I truly believed it, until I saw it with my own two eyes.
As a young girl I remember stories of the Worgen that stalked the woods of Ashenvale. Once I even saw a dead one that the Sentinels had brought to Astranaar. I was told it was some kind of curse. Never really thought I'd stand so close to one that was alive and angry.
The wind howls as it moves across the grassy valley of Mulgore. The clouds gather and boil overhead in an angry dance, threatening to pour rain on us at any moment. This storm almost seems unnatural, like it heralds an end to the world as we know it.
"Would you care for some more stew my child." Arch Druid Hamuul says as he stirs the contents of the ceramic pot nestled in our wind-whipped campfire.
I shake my head at the old tauren as I continue to stare into the night sky. Above me I hear the creaking of the funeral platform that Hamuul helped me build for poor little Meekha. Her body is wrapped in white linen cloth, giving her a ghostly appearance. She reminds me of my sister, whose buried not far from where I sit.
Lightning flashes overhead and the steady roll of thunder echos across the walls and bluffs of this valley.
"The shamans say that the elements are in turmoil" Hamuul says in but a whisper. "Strange storms, earthquakes... it is all unsettling. Feels like the whole world is out of balance"
"Elder, I don't know what to do anymore." I say with a pout.
He turns and looks at me for a moment, and then smiles. "It is going to rain soon. Maybe you should eat some stew? Yes, thats what you should do, eat stew." He replies as he scoops some of the hearty broth into a wooden bowl and hands it to me. "Sometimes when in sorrow it is best to focus on the little things that are good."
The warm bowl feels good on my hands. I drink from the edge of it, watching the vapor rise from the stew into the cold air.
After a moment I turn to him, as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Hamuul, I am tired of being sad. I feel so alone and scared." I pause as the old tauren places his hand on my shoulder. "Honestly, there was a time that I think I actually loved him... I was drawn to his desperation. Now that I have seen what he really is, I am scared of him. I just want to go back to my home in Darkshore and forget about all of this."
"Charibdys" Hamuul replies "You have done enough for me and the order. After what you have told me it is clear that Calmfury is not the creature we thought he was. I fear that we have loosed a monster on this world, and it is all my fault."
A strong gust of wind hits us hard at the same time that lightning cracks in the clouds above us. Animalistic fear rises in my chest as I jump in startlement. Suddenly, as if on cue, the rain begins to fall.
Hamuul looks at me and seems to pout as rain pelts his fur. He seems like a comical little boy sometimes. Taking joy in the most innane things, and suffering misery like a spoiled child. The mother in me wants to take care of him. But, I know that for all his unusual ways he is as wise as the stars in the night sky.
"Charibdys, I think you should leave this misery behind you and find your way back through the dream. Or perhaps you can help us to find Malfurion. I am going to Darnassus in a few days if you want to accompany me." Hamuul says with a smile and a wink.
"Darnassus?" I reply with an enthusiatic squeal. "why are you going ther....."
Suddenly the night is pierced with the cries of the plainstriders. In the dim light we can see a group of them stampeding across the grass. Then we see him, like a vision from hell, Calmfury emerges from darkness in the shape of a bear. His fur is matted and stained with blood and gore, the steady rhythmn of his heavy breathing sending plumes of hot vapor into the cold air.
"Calmfury my child, it is good to see you again." Hamuul says with a smile as he rises from the ground.
Without saying a word Calmfury shifts out of bear form. He looks even worse as a tauren, smeared with blood as if it was some sort of war paint. He then loosens a makeshift rope from around his shoulders, and flings a torn and battered corpse at our feet. The unrecognizable heap looks as though it had been dragged across Azeroth.
"Why is he here?" he says to me as he looks at me with his permanent hateful glare and motions to Elder Hamuul.
I step backwards in trepidation.
Hamuul steps forward in a confrontational manner. "She asked me to be here Calmfury! I came to pay my respects to the dead." The old bull stands upright, his chest puffed out and his hands balled into fists. Despite his age, he is still an imposing figure.
Calmfury eyes Hamuul for a moment, almost as if he is weighing if he could kill him. He may be able to take the Elder in a fight, but not the both of us, if he's counting on me to stand idly by, or even take his side, he is sorely mistaken.
"Fine! old fool, stay if you like. But, don't get in the way." Calmfury says with a growl as he drags the corpse past us towards the funeral platform.
As he does, I see the mangled and unrecognizable face of the sack of bones twitch and moan.
"It is still alive!!" I shout in horror.
Calmfury tosses the body to the base of the tower and raises his arms to the miserable sky.
"Meekha!! My beloved daughter!!" he shouts in anguish "This body is set at your feet so that you can see my promise fullfilled!!"
"Calmfury!! who is this that you have brought to defile poor Meekha's grave with?" Hamuul snarls in anger.
"It is her father Hamuul" I say in sorrow
The elder looks at me with horror across his face. Meanwhile, Calmfury stands like a statue in the wind and rain. The water drawing droplets of filth and gore down his sides.
Suddenly, he turns and walks past us, grabbing a burning log from the fire, and coldly knocking over the pot of stew.
"It is not our way to burn the dead Calmfury." Hamuul says through gritted teeth. "they must decompose naturally, allowing their bodies..."
"I am not concerned with your idiotic customs Elder!!" Calmfury replies in a low, menacing tone.
"Idiotic customs!! We are your people Calmfury, you were raised on the plains of Mulgore. We love you, you are one of us."
Calmfury turns suddenly, his eyes blazing with hatred. "I am not one of you, I am a child of the night, forged in darkness and despair! Everything good in me died with her, and I will most gladly give every day I have left, every drop of my cursed blood to see that the dogs that did this to her suffer in the worst way imaginable."
Lightning crashes overhead once again as the two stare at each other. The rain pours in long sheets of cold misery. I realize now that there is no going back for any of us. We have touched the face of a nameless feeling, and the world is indeed at it's end... at least for us.
Calmfury turns and tosses the smoldering log on the chest of Meekha's father. As if by some strange magic, the flames begin to rise and dance across his body. Then corpse begins to scream in a horrific, gurgling voice.
"Calmfury, you have just defiled Meekha's grave." Hamuul says as he spits on the ground. "You are right, you are not one of us, and I am ashamed I ever loved you as a son. Leave this land and never return."
His bitter words ring out painfully.
In dejected despair the old tauren turns and walks away into the cold night. Surprisingly I see regret wash across Calmfury's face as he watches him leave. Behind him Goregreedy finally stops thrashing and falls silent as he mercifully dies. The flames from the bonfire that now surrounds him, spread upwards and catch Meekha's funeral tower ablaze.
Without saying a word I turn and follow Hamuul into the night.
As we pass into the dark grassy fields I can hear the anguished cries of that monster behind us. Yet, no pity, remorse, or compassion rises in my heart for him.
"I am coming for you Garrosh Hellscream!! I am coming and you will suffer all the torments of hell at my hand!!" Calmfury screams out into the night.
Lightning crashes overhead once again, almost as if the very world is answering his foolish oath.
My last thought on the subject, before I gave up on misery and walked away, was that I hope Garrosh kills him.
As a young girl I remember stories of the Worgen that stalked the woods of Ashenvale. Once I even saw a dead one that the Sentinels had brought to Astranaar. I was told it was some kind of curse. Never really thought I'd stand so close to one that was alive and angry.
The wind howls as it moves across the grassy valley of Mulgore. The clouds gather and boil overhead in an angry dance, threatening to pour rain on us at any moment. This storm almost seems unnatural, like it heralds an end to the world as we know it.
"Would you care for some more stew my child." Arch Druid Hamuul says as he stirs the contents of the ceramic pot nestled in our wind-whipped campfire.
I shake my head at the old tauren as I continue to stare into the night sky. Above me I hear the creaking of the funeral platform that Hamuul helped me build for poor little Meekha. Her body is wrapped in white linen cloth, giving her a ghostly appearance. She reminds me of my sister, whose buried not far from where I sit.
Lightning flashes overhead and the steady roll of thunder echos across the walls and bluffs of this valley.
"The shamans say that the elements are in turmoil" Hamuul says in but a whisper. "Strange storms, earthquakes... it is all unsettling. Feels like the whole world is out of balance"
"Elder, I don't know what to do anymore." I say with a pout.
He turns and looks at me for a moment, and then smiles. "It is going to rain soon. Maybe you should eat some stew? Yes, thats what you should do, eat stew." He replies as he scoops some of the hearty broth into a wooden bowl and hands it to me. "Sometimes when in sorrow it is best to focus on the little things that are good."
The warm bowl feels good on my hands. I drink from the edge of it, watching the vapor rise from the stew into the cold air.
After a moment I turn to him, as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Hamuul, I am tired of being sad. I feel so alone and scared." I pause as the old tauren places his hand on my shoulder. "Honestly, there was a time that I think I actually loved him... I was drawn to his desperation. Now that I have seen what he really is, I am scared of him. I just want to go back to my home in Darkshore and forget about all of this."
"Charibdys" Hamuul replies "You have done enough for me and the order. After what you have told me it is clear that Calmfury is not the creature we thought he was. I fear that we have loosed a monster on this world, and it is all my fault."
A strong gust of wind hits us hard at the same time that lightning cracks in the clouds above us. Animalistic fear rises in my chest as I jump in startlement. Suddenly, as if on cue, the rain begins to fall.
Hamuul looks at me and seems to pout as rain pelts his fur. He seems like a comical little boy sometimes. Taking joy in the most innane things, and suffering misery like a spoiled child. The mother in me wants to take care of him. But, I know that for all his unusual ways he is as wise as the stars in the night sky.
"Charibdys, I think you should leave this misery behind you and find your way back through the dream. Or perhaps you can help us to find Malfurion. I am going to Darnassus in a few days if you want to accompany me." Hamuul says with a smile and a wink.
"Darnassus?" I reply with an enthusiatic squeal. "why are you going ther....."
Suddenly the night is pierced with the cries of the plainstriders. In the dim light we can see a group of them stampeding across the grass. Then we see him, like a vision from hell, Calmfury emerges from darkness in the shape of a bear. His fur is matted and stained with blood and gore, the steady rhythmn of his heavy breathing sending plumes of hot vapor into the cold air.
"Calmfury my child, it is good to see you again." Hamuul says with a smile as he rises from the ground.
Without saying a word Calmfury shifts out of bear form. He looks even worse as a tauren, smeared with blood as if it was some sort of war paint. He then loosens a makeshift rope from around his shoulders, and flings a torn and battered corpse at our feet. The unrecognizable heap looks as though it had been dragged across Azeroth.
"Why is he here?" he says to me as he looks at me with his permanent hateful glare and motions to Elder Hamuul.
I step backwards in trepidation.
Hamuul steps forward in a confrontational manner. "She asked me to be here Calmfury! I came to pay my respects to the dead." The old bull stands upright, his chest puffed out and his hands balled into fists. Despite his age, he is still an imposing figure.
Calmfury eyes Hamuul for a moment, almost as if he is weighing if he could kill him. He may be able to take the Elder in a fight, but not the both of us, if he's counting on me to stand idly by, or even take his side, he is sorely mistaken.
"Fine! old fool, stay if you like. But, don't get in the way." Calmfury says with a growl as he drags the corpse past us towards the funeral platform.
As he does, I see the mangled and unrecognizable face of the sack of bones twitch and moan.
"It is still alive!!" I shout in horror.
Calmfury tosses the body to the base of the tower and raises his arms to the miserable sky.
"Meekha!! My beloved daughter!!" he shouts in anguish "This body is set at your feet so that you can see my promise fullfilled!!"
"Calmfury!! who is this that you have brought to defile poor Meekha's grave with?" Hamuul snarls in anger.
"It is her father Hamuul" I say in sorrow
The elder looks at me with horror across his face. Meanwhile, Calmfury stands like a statue in the wind and rain. The water drawing droplets of filth and gore down his sides.
Suddenly, he turns and walks past us, grabbing a burning log from the fire, and coldly knocking over the pot of stew.
"It is not our way to burn the dead Calmfury." Hamuul says through gritted teeth. "they must decompose naturally, allowing their bodies..."
"I am not concerned with your idiotic customs Elder!!" Calmfury replies in a low, menacing tone.
"Idiotic customs!! We are your people Calmfury, you were raised on the plains of Mulgore. We love you, you are one of us."
Calmfury turns suddenly, his eyes blazing with hatred. "I am not one of you, I am a child of the night, forged in darkness and despair! Everything good in me died with her, and I will most gladly give every day I have left, every drop of my cursed blood to see that the dogs that did this to her suffer in the worst way imaginable."
Lightning crashes overhead once again as the two stare at each other. The rain pours in long sheets of cold misery. I realize now that there is no going back for any of us. We have touched the face of a nameless feeling, and the world is indeed at it's end... at least for us.
Calmfury turns and tosses the smoldering log on the chest of Meekha's father. As if by some strange magic, the flames begin to rise and dance across his body. Then corpse begins to scream in a horrific, gurgling voice.
"Calmfury, you have just defiled Meekha's grave." Hamuul says as he spits on the ground. "You are right, you are not one of us, and I am ashamed I ever loved you as a son. Leave this land and never return."
His bitter words ring out painfully.
In dejected despair the old tauren turns and walks away into the cold night. Surprisingly I see regret wash across Calmfury's face as he watches him leave. Behind him Goregreedy finally stops thrashing and falls silent as he mercifully dies. The flames from the bonfire that now surrounds him, spread upwards and catch Meekha's funeral tower ablaze.
Without saying a word I turn and follow Hamuul into the night.
As we pass into the dark grassy fields I can hear the anguished cries of that monster behind us. Yet, no pity, remorse, or compassion rises in my heart for him.
"I am coming for you Garrosh Hellscream!! I am coming and you will suffer all the torments of hell at my hand!!" Calmfury screams out into the night.
Lightning crashes overhead once again, almost as if the very world is answering his foolish oath.
My last thought on the subject, before I gave up on misery and walked away, was that I hope Garrosh kills him.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
pt 46 A promise fullfilled
I feel numb. My cold, lifeless heart bears no pain or contrition. There are no tears in my eyes. Perhaps the saddest thing in the world is the desire to grieve without the ability.
It is no surprise really. I did not grieve for my wife after I put an axe in her skull. The day after I returned from my captivity with the Lich King, she presented me our baby daughter, that was born in my absence, and when I could not show her affection, Morgilla rejected me. It is wrong to believe that a Death Knight cannot feel emotion. Actually, we feel the emotion of rage quite strongly.
So here I am, on the deck of this flying junkyard the Goblins call a zepplin, watching the darkened hills of Durotar pass below me. The cold wind blowing my dead, grey hair like a somber banner of sadness and misery. The trip to Northrend will be long and cold. The bulging bag of gold at my feet would likely get me killed if my fellow passengers knew of it's existence.
"Hey mon!" a suspicious looking troll strolls up to me in a conniving and seedy manner. "Ey know who ya be mah friend." He smiles at me through his glinting tusks.
"Do ya now?" I respond without looking at him, my grip tightening on my corroded maul.
"Yah mon! Everybody be knowin dah great Goregreedy. Dah best and fairest biznuss mon in all dah city of Orgrimmah. What ya be doin goin ta Warsong hold mah friend?" he replies as he leans on the rail and spits off the side. At his side I see him gripping the handle of a long, jagged dagger.
This could play in my favor. If there is anything that I am good at, besides crushing skulls, it's manipulating idiots.
"Hey, yah look like a strong Troll dats eager tah make a gold er two. Ey might have a job fer ya if yar lookin fer work." I say with an equally seedy smile.
The troll says nothing, he just smiles and shows me the jeweled hilt of his still sheathed blade.
"Ey gots won hundert gold coin if ya keep..."
Suddenly there is a shout of alarm, I turn just in time to see a large brown raven divebomb the deck, then in an instant, in mid air, it fluidly changes shape into a hulking black bear. I don't even have enough time to react before the snarling beast slams into me. Pain rips through my body as his claws and teeth sink into my flesh.
"RRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRR!!!!!" the raging bear roars as his slobber and my icy blood sprays across the deck.
Suddenly, the bear once again shifts his shape and turns into the massive form of the Tauren claiming to be Calmfury. He lunges forward and clamps his meaty fingers around my throat.
Fear clouds my mind as I stumble backwards against the railing, fumbling clumsily for my maul. He leans on me hard as my throat begins to be crushed in his hands.
"I come to you bringing death!! Your master has forsaken you Goregreedy. You are a murdering, heartless bastard and I will see that you suffer, as my daughter suffered!!"
As I try hard to gasp for breath, I grope desperately for my maul. Behind me I hear the railing groan and crack under our weight. Finally, my hand finds a the leather loop that serves as my lanyard on my hammer. With all of my might I swing the loop hard over my head towards my attacker. As my vision darkens I hear the rewarding thump of something heavy slamming it into the side of the tauren's head. To my relief, he stumbles backwards, releasing my his hold on my neck.
My vision returns as I gasp for breath. Then, to my horror I hear the unmistakable the sounds of coins raining across the deck of the zepplin. Instead of my maul, I grabbed the loop of my backpack full of gold. I watch helplessly as my fellow travelers, the two orc guardsmen, the goblin crewmen, even my troll hireling begin to scramble greedily for the rain of precious coin.
Calmfury once again lunges forward at me, slamming me into the railing. I try hard to beat him back, but he pummels me hard with his bare fists. I am nearly helpless, and no one is cogniscent enough to stop him.
Suddenly, the railing gives way behind me and I tumble backwards over the side of the ship. In desperation I grab and find a dangling rope to stop my fall. Far below me I can see the red rocks of Durotar, shimmering in the silvery light of the moon.
"You bloated sack of filth. You and your kind are not worthy of existence." the Tauren says, standing on the deck above me, as he picks up my maul. "It is my pleasure to send you to hell."
"Yah got ta believe meh!! She ask'd me ta teech 'er to fight. She wunted tah be in da areena!" I scream
"She was an innocent child!! You tried to make her like you!!" he bellows as he lifts the maul high into the air. "Now Goregreedy, your lies will die with you!!"
I watch in slow motion as he swings my corroded, gore encrusted maul downward. In his eyes I see a burning hatred, and in my heart I finally feel a sense of grief. The maul slams into my head, cracking my skull, and shattering my polished tusks. My head swims for an instant, long enough to make me let go of the rope. As I begin my long journey down to the earth I watch as Calmfury leaps off the zepplin, and shifts into a large brown raven.
As I plummet helplessly to my second death, I can't help but think that life has unnecessarily been cruel to me. Of course, for that matter I have been quite merciless to everyone I dealt with, even my wife and child. Even though I am innocent in what I did to her, I am guilty of many other crimes. It's just too bad I can't die on my feet in....
Whump!!
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm not sure how long I laid there on that jagged rock next to the seashore. But, I was finally awakened by the feeling of someone tying a rope around my legs. Looking up, I see my own ribs protruding out of my chest, my blood and guts are splattered all around me, and at my feet there stands that dreaded Tauren, tying a makeshift vine around my legs.
"Yoor tyin me up?!?" I say weakly as I once again look into his angry eyes.
He glares at me for a moment before smiling broadly.
"I never thought after that fall you'd still be alive!" he laughs mockingly at me. "I guess being a Deathknight is both a blessing and a curse."
"Ugh!" I choke on foamy blood. "Ya beat meh Calmfury.. just finish meh and be dun wit it"
He smiles broadly at me before turning serious once again. That baleful look of hatred burning in his eyes as he ties the other end of the rope around his own shoulders.
"No way old friend! Time is short, your daughter's funeral awaits, and it's a long run to Mulgore."
Suddenly he shifts forms to a bear, the vine still tied around him. Turning he begins to run and I am cruelly yanked off the rocks with my entrails dragging behind me.
Such is the end of Goregreedy the Merciless, Veteran of the Third war, redeemed servant of the Lich King, and murder of women and children.
It is no surprise really. I did not grieve for my wife after I put an axe in her skull. The day after I returned from my captivity with the Lich King, she presented me our baby daughter, that was born in my absence, and when I could not show her affection, Morgilla rejected me. It is wrong to believe that a Death Knight cannot feel emotion. Actually, we feel the emotion of rage quite strongly.
So here I am, on the deck of this flying junkyard the Goblins call a zepplin, watching the darkened hills of Durotar pass below me. The cold wind blowing my dead, grey hair like a somber banner of sadness and misery. The trip to Northrend will be long and cold. The bulging bag of gold at my feet would likely get me killed if my fellow passengers knew of it's existence.
"Hey mon!" a suspicious looking troll strolls up to me in a conniving and seedy manner. "Ey know who ya be mah friend." He smiles at me through his glinting tusks.
"Do ya now?" I respond without looking at him, my grip tightening on my corroded maul.
"Yah mon! Everybody be knowin dah great Goregreedy. Dah best and fairest biznuss mon in all dah city of Orgrimmah. What ya be doin goin ta Warsong hold mah friend?" he replies as he leans on the rail and spits off the side. At his side I see him gripping the handle of a long, jagged dagger.
This could play in my favor. If there is anything that I am good at, besides crushing skulls, it's manipulating idiots.
"Hey, yah look like a strong Troll dats eager tah make a gold er two. Ey might have a job fer ya if yar lookin fer work." I say with an equally seedy smile.
The troll says nothing, he just smiles and shows me the jeweled hilt of his still sheathed blade.
"Ey gots won hundert gold coin if ya keep..."
Suddenly there is a shout of alarm, I turn just in time to see a large brown raven divebomb the deck, then in an instant, in mid air, it fluidly changes shape into a hulking black bear. I don't even have enough time to react before the snarling beast slams into me. Pain rips through my body as his claws and teeth sink into my flesh.
"RRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRR!!!!!" the raging bear roars as his slobber and my icy blood sprays across the deck.
Suddenly, the bear once again shifts his shape and turns into the massive form of the Tauren claiming to be Calmfury. He lunges forward and clamps his meaty fingers around my throat.
Fear clouds my mind as I stumble backwards against the railing, fumbling clumsily for my maul. He leans on me hard as my throat begins to be crushed in his hands.
"I come to you bringing death!! Your master has forsaken you Goregreedy. You are a murdering, heartless bastard and I will see that you suffer, as my daughter suffered!!"
As I try hard to gasp for breath, I grope desperately for my maul. Behind me I hear the railing groan and crack under our weight. Finally, my hand finds a the leather loop that serves as my lanyard on my hammer. With all of my might I swing the loop hard over my head towards my attacker. As my vision darkens I hear the rewarding thump of something heavy slamming it into the side of the tauren's head. To my relief, he stumbles backwards, releasing my his hold on my neck.
My vision returns as I gasp for breath. Then, to my horror I hear the unmistakable the sounds of coins raining across the deck of the zepplin. Instead of my maul, I grabbed the loop of my backpack full of gold. I watch helplessly as my fellow travelers, the two orc guardsmen, the goblin crewmen, even my troll hireling begin to scramble greedily for the rain of precious coin.
Calmfury once again lunges forward at me, slamming me into the railing. I try hard to beat him back, but he pummels me hard with his bare fists. I am nearly helpless, and no one is cogniscent enough to stop him.
Suddenly, the railing gives way behind me and I tumble backwards over the side of the ship. In desperation I grab and find a dangling rope to stop my fall. Far below me I can see the red rocks of Durotar, shimmering in the silvery light of the moon.
"You bloated sack of filth. You and your kind are not worthy of existence." the Tauren says, standing on the deck above me, as he picks up my maul. "It is my pleasure to send you to hell."
"Yah got ta believe meh!! She ask'd me ta teech 'er to fight. She wunted tah be in da areena!" I scream
"She was an innocent child!! You tried to make her like you!!" he bellows as he lifts the maul high into the air. "Now Goregreedy, your lies will die with you!!"
I watch in slow motion as he swings my corroded, gore encrusted maul downward. In his eyes I see a burning hatred, and in my heart I finally feel a sense of grief. The maul slams into my head, cracking my skull, and shattering my polished tusks. My head swims for an instant, long enough to make me let go of the rope. As I begin my long journey down to the earth I watch as Calmfury leaps off the zepplin, and shifts into a large brown raven.
As I plummet helplessly to my second death, I can't help but think that life has unnecessarily been cruel to me. Of course, for that matter I have been quite merciless to everyone I dealt with, even my wife and child. Even though I am innocent in what I did to her, I am guilty of many other crimes. It's just too bad I can't die on my feet in....
Whump!!
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm not sure how long I laid there on that jagged rock next to the seashore. But, I was finally awakened by the feeling of someone tying a rope around my legs. Looking up, I see my own ribs protruding out of my chest, my blood and guts are splattered all around me, and at my feet there stands that dreaded Tauren, tying a makeshift vine around my legs.
"Yoor tyin me up?!?" I say weakly as I once again look into his angry eyes.
He glares at me for a moment before smiling broadly.
"I never thought after that fall you'd still be alive!" he laughs mockingly at me. "I guess being a Deathknight is both a blessing and a curse."
"Ugh!" I choke on foamy blood. "Ya beat meh Calmfury.. just finish meh and be dun wit it"
He smiles broadly at me before turning serious once again. That baleful look of hatred burning in his eyes as he ties the other end of the rope around his own shoulders.
"No way old friend! Time is short, your daughter's funeral awaits, and it's a long run to Mulgore."
Suddenly he shifts forms to a bear, the vine still tied around him. Turning he begins to run and I am cruelly yanked off the rocks with my entrails dragging behind me.
Such is the end of Goregreedy the Merciless, Veteran of the Third war, redeemed servant of the Lich King, and murder of women and children.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
pt 45 Allegations of blame
"Form up ye lazy peons!!" Urtok, Sergeant of the Kor'kron guards brings his squad of elite warriors to attention. The scarred and battle hardened veteran of a thousand wars grins proudly to himself through his glistening tusks. His company is the best that the Horde has to offer, and his Warchief knows it.
Before him the sounds of battle and screams of anguish have subsided from within the confines of the Arena. Bloodied survivors still amble forth from the doorway like a macabre parade of gore and carnage. Shell shocked survivors with massive claw marks, and limbs that have been ripped from their bodies. The veteran sergeant has seen it before, there is no doubt in his mind that a demon lord is now waiting for them within the walls of the sacred fighting arena.
"Sargint, whadda ya suppose is in dere?" one of the warriors says with a growl.
Looking back with a toothy grin across his face, the sergent replies with a chuckle "Whuteva it is, we er gonna send it back to da hell eet came frum."
Urtok gazes once more at the ghostly arena before him, and with grim determination on his face he orders his company forward. A wall of green flesh and glinting iron marches up the slope and into the bloody arena, stepping on corpses and entrails as the push their way into the darkness. The Sergeant looks up to the dark, night time sky just in time to see the silhouette of a large bird fly in front of the face of the moon. The crows must be hungry, he thinks to himself, if they are gathering so soon for the feast.
As they enter the vast confines of the colliseum the groans and sobs of the dying rise in a morbid crescendo. Bodies lay strewn about the building like bloody puppets tossed by a careless child.
To their relief, there is no sign of a demon lord, or even who might have carried out this hellish massacre.
"Kor'kron, moov out!! Serch dah buildin. Bring meh any servivers!!" Urtok shouts with authority.
The stalwart band of Orc guardsmen begin to fan out through the arena in almost drilled precision. Their warrior focus and attention drawn like the razors edge of their battle axes.
"Urtok, eet don't smell like ah Doomlord has ben in ere" the corporal of the company says as he sniffs the air like a wolf "All ey smell is dah blood."
"Yar!" Urtok replies "Be on yer guard corporal. Dey is full of tricks"
A warrior shouts from the far end of the arena, startling every one of the guardsmen. "Sergent!! Ey found somewon dat isn't urt er dead!!"
The hulking sergeant strides quicking down the bloody rows of seats, stepping on bodies and entrails as he goes. There in the center of the arena he sees her. A tauren woman stands holding a dead child. Though she seems to be splattered with blood and gore, she is untouched.
"Whut happened ere woman!! Tell meh quickly so dat we can find da monster!!" Urtok barks out to the tauren.
Charibdys raises her head slowly and glares at the Orc with hatred and disgust in her tear filled eyes. "You are the monster." she whispers through bared teeth.
Looking up past the sergeant to the entryway she sees the mighty Warchief Thrall and his assorted advisors enter the building with their weapons at the ready.
"You!!" she shouts as she points to Thrall. "You are the monster! You let this happen. What kind of Warchief allows the children of his people be used in this way!!"
The sergeant springs forward to tackle the hysterical woman. No one speaks to his Warchief in such a fashion. As he does, a massive wave of water seems to come from out of nowhere, knocking Urtok as his guards backwards. The wave washes over the blood soaked benches of the arena, causing a torrent of slippery entrails and bodies to pour back downward like a morbid log jam.
Suddenly Charibdys turns into a large brown crow, and grabs the corpse of the child in her steely talons. As the guardsman rush forward again, she leaps into the air and flies out the open ceiling of the arena.
"What is she talking about?" Thrall says in astonishment.
The bewildered guards and advisors stand in stunned silence, pondering the scene they just witnessed.
"Uh, Warchief..." Eitrigg says cautiously as he looks at his horrified brother. "I think I might be able to shed some light on this."
Thrall looks at his trusted advisor in bewilderment
"Kor'kron!!" Thrall shouts "Close the gates, lock down the city. No one is to leave. Send word to Hamuul, find out who that druid was. Summon my advisors and aids. I want speak to them immediately!!"
Thrall turn to Eitrigg with a growl "You have some explaining, old friend." he says as he turns and strides out of the arena.
Down on the arena floor Urtok looks in disgust at his so called elite guardsmen.
"Move yer tails ya snivling peons!! You heard the warchief!!" he barks.
With determined precision they move out to alert the rest of the city, and carry out Thrall's orders.
"hehe So sarge, dat lady druid did ah numba on you. I nevah saw ya knock'd off yer feet ba'fore. Har har har!" the brutish corporal says with a toothy grin.
The dripping Sergeant turns and glares at his subordinate, before smiling through his glimmering tusks.
"Corp'rol, you find sum peons and git dis mess cleaned up!" he growls and he turns and heads towards the door.
Off in the distance a lonely signal can be heard. It is the sign that the zepplin to Northrend is loaded, and about to depart into the cold night sky.
Before him the sounds of battle and screams of anguish have subsided from within the confines of the Arena. Bloodied survivors still amble forth from the doorway like a macabre parade of gore and carnage. Shell shocked survivors with massive claw marks, and limbs that have been ripped from their bodies. The veteran sergeant has seen it before, there is no doubt in his mind that a demon lord is now waiting for them within the walls of the sacred fighting arena.
"Sargint, whadda ya suppose is in dere?" one of the warriors says with a growl.
Looking back with a toothy grin across his face, the sergent replies with a chuckle "Whuteva it is, we er gonna send it back to da hell eet came frum."
Urtok gazes once more at the ghostly arena before him, and with grim determination on his face he orders his company forward. A wall of green flesh and glinting iron marches up the slope and into the bloody arena, stepping on corpses and entrails as the push their way into the darkness. The Sergeant looks up to the dark, night time sky just in time to see the silhouette of a large bird fly in front of the face of the moon. The crows must be hungry, he thinks to himself, if they are gathering so soon for the feast.
As they enter the vast confines of the colliseum the groans and sobs of the dying rise in a morbid crescendo. Bodies lay strewn about the building like bloody puppets tossed by a careless child.
To their relief, there is no sign of a demon lord, or even who might have carried out this hellish massacre.
"Kor'kron, moov out!! Serch dah buildin. Bring meh any servivers!!" Urtok shouts with authority.
The stalwart band of Orc guardsmen begin to fan out through the arena in almost drilled precision. Their warrior focus and attention drawn like the razors edge of their battle axes.
"Urtok, eet don't smell like ah Doomlord has ben in ere" the corporal of the company says as he sniffs the air like a wolf "All ey smell is dah blood."
"Yar!" Urtok replies "Be on yer guard corporal. Dey is full of tricks"
A warrior shouts from the far end of the arena, startling every one of the guardsmen. "Sergent!! Ey found somewon dat isn't urt er dead!!"
The hulking sergeant strides quicking down the bloody rows of seats, stepping on bodies and entrails as he goes. There in the center of the arena he sees her. A tauren woman stands holding a dead child. Though she seems to be splattered with blood and gore, she is untouched.
"Whut happened ere woman!! Tell meh quickly so dat we can find da monster!!" Urtok barks out to the tauren.
Charibdys raises her head slowly and glares at the Orc with hatred and disgust in her tear filled eyes. "You are the monster." she whispers through bared teeth.
Looking up past the sergeant to the entryway she sees the mighty Warchief Thrall and his assorted advisors enter the building with their weapons at the ready.
"You!!" she shouts as she points to Thrall. "You are the monster! You let this happen. What kind of Warchief allows the children of his people be used in this way!!"
The sergeant springs forward to tackle the hysterical woman. No one speaks to his Warchief in such a fashion. As he does, a massive wave of water seems to come from out of nowhere, knocking Urtok as his guards backwards. The wave washes over the blood soaked benches of the arena, causing a torrent of slippery entrails and bodies to pour back downward like a morbid log jam.
Suddenly Charibdys turns into a large brown crow, and grabs the corpse of the child in her steely talons. As the guardsman rush forward again, she leaps into the air and flies out the open ceiling of the arena.
"What is she talking about?" Thrall says in astonishment.
The bewildered guards and advisors stand in stunned silence, pondering the scene they just witnessed.
"Uh, Warchief..." Eitrigg says cautiously as he looks at his horrified brother. "I think I might be able to shed some light on this."
Thrall looks at his trusted advisor in bewilderment
"Kor'kron!!" Thrall shouts "Close the gates, lock down the city. No one is to leave. Send word to Hamuul, find out who that druid was. Summon my advisors and aids. I want speak to them immediately!!"
Thrall turn to Eitrigg with a growl "You have some explaining, old friend." he says as he turns and strides out of the arena.
Down on the arena floor Urtok looks in disgust at his so called elite guardsmen.
"Move yer tails ya snivling peons!! You heard the warchief!!" he barks.
With determined precision they move out to alert the rest of the city, and carry out Thrall's orders.
"hehe So sarge, dat lady druid did ah numba on you. I nevah saw ya knock'd off yer feet ba'fore. Har har har!" the brutish corporal says with a toothy grin.
The dripping Sergeant turns and glares at his subordinate, before smiling through his glimmering tusks.
"Corp'rol, you find sum peons and git dis mess cleaned up!" he growls and he turns and heads towards the door.
Off in the distance a lonely signal can be heard. It is the sign that the zepplin to Northrend is loaded, and about to depart into the cold night sky.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Pt 44 The Escape
The Tauren brute drops me into my chair at the edge of the arena, and dives headlong into the bloodstained sandy ring below. He claims to be my old friend Calmfury, but looks nothing like him. Meanwhile, the crowd begins to voice their displeasure at the interruption of tonights spectacle, as this Tauren imposter kneels down at the body of my dead daughter. His sobs can be heard over the hissing audience.
I was told by Slasherjoe that Calmfury had died at the hands of Garrosh several months ago. In my own way I mourned my friend, afterall he adopted my daughter from the orphanage and raised her as his own. He kept my secret safe and allowed me to watch her from afar. When Calmfury was killed, Slasherjoe brought Meekha to me and told me the news, I was furious. She should have gone back to the orphanage, but he had already told her who I was. There is no way I would have her growing up to hate me, the wrath of an Orc woman is at best a death sentence.
I don't know if, or even how this imposter can be Calmfury, somehow brought back to life, but I dont intend to stick around to see how this ends. As the crowd pushes to the edge of the arena, I grab my bulging leather bag, and my trusty maul and quickly begin to push my way towards the exit.
I am well known and well liked here by everyone. I have been generous and forgiving of those who have lost bets that they couldn't cover. Out of respect and possibly fear, the spectators part and allow me easy access to the door. My best bet is to get out of Orgrimmar and catch the zepplin to Warsong Hold in Outland. It is near my time to report to Garrosh and to bring him the gold we have made from the arena.
"Charibdys!!!" the imposter in the arena screams above the roar of the enraged audience "Come quickly!!!"
With frenzied determination I finally push my way out of the arena and into the cool evening, there standing before me is Squish and her cronies, as if they are guarding the door.
"Why look what we have here. It's the old disease bag himself. I'm guessing that Calmfury found you?" Squish says with her usual sneer.
I look hard at her as I focus my magic and summon my deathcharger into existence.
"Dat eemposter ees not Calmfury, he died remembah?!?" I growl furiously as I sling my pack over the undead mount.
"Well, you know we can't let you leave so quickly Goregreedy" Squish says "We have to get this little misunderstanding with Calmfury's gruntling squared away."
"Speekin of dat Gore, weere is Meekha? Why are you leavin witout her?" Slasherjoe says as he steps out from behind Squish's mob.
"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"
An unearthly and terrifying roar shakes the walls of the massive colliseum and echos across the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.
Squish and her band suddenly spring to attention, drawing their weapons and preparing to defend against whatever it is that is now rampaging through the inside of the arena.
I waste no time, taking advantage of the distraction, I jump on my deathcharger and spur the beast forward, towards the gates leaving the Valley of Honor. Behind me I can hear the muffled screams of the stampeding crowd, All trying to escape the massive building that has somehow become their tomb.
How is this even possible? For the first time in an age, terror fills my heart. Perhaps that Tauren was Calmfury and he somehow came back to life with the help of a Dreadlord of the Legion. Only a demon of that caliber could make such a horrible howl, drive fear in the hearts of veteran warriors, and slaughter them so easily. I know, I fought the Legion on Mount Hyjal.
My deathcharger pushes relentlessly past the gate and into the drag. As I turn towards the Valley of Strength and the front gates of Orgrimmar, I see the mighty warchief Thrall and his Kor'kron guards coming from Grommash Hold in the Valley of Wisdom. Apparently, they heard the roar and are going to face whatever it is that made it. Good, let them deal with the horror that is tearing up their precious city.
I spur my mount harder as I tear into the Valley of Strength towards the front gate. A growing crowd of the usual rabble that do business in the Auction house begin to swarm past me back towards the arena. No doubt they heard the commotion and want to check it out.
Hot wind and sand assaults my face as I pass through the outer gate and into the majestic desert of Durotar beyond. There outside the walls of Orgrimmar is the zepplin tower. I am fortunate because the massive airship is docked at the moment and loading supplies for its long voyage back to the Borean Tundra to Garrosh's fortress.
At the base of the tower I slide off my deathcharger, and dismiss the ghostly beast. Hoisting the heavy bag of gold over my shoulder, I make the long climb up the tower and stride onto the deck of the goblin zepplin. The little green bastards pay me little notice as I sit down at the edge of the ship and look out across the evening sky of Azeroth. Off in the distance I can see the faint glow of a fire from the center of Orgrimmar.
Soon, it will all be behind me.
I was told by Slasherjoe that Calmfury had died at the hands of Garrosh several months ago. In my own way I mourned my friend, afterall he adopted my daughter from the orphanage and raised her as his own. He kept my secret safe and allowed me to watch her from afar. When Calmfury was killed, Slasherjoe brought Meekha to me and told me the news, I was furious. She should have gone back to the orphanage, but he had already told her who I was. There is no way I would have her growing up to hate me, the wrath of an Orc woman is at best a death sentence.
I don't know if, or even how this imposter can be Calmfury, somehow brought back to life, but I dont intend to stick around to see how this ends. As the crowd pushes to the edge of the arena, I grab my bulging leather bag, and my trusty maul and quickly begin to push my way towards the exit.
I am well known and well liked here by everyone. I have been generous and forgiving of those who have lost bets that they couldn't cover. Out of respect and possibly fear, the spectators part and allow me easy access to the door. My best bet is to get out of Orgrimmar and catch the zepplin to Warsong Hold in Outland. It is near my time to report to Garrosh and to bring him the gold we have made from the arena.
"Charibdys!!!" the imposter in the arena screams above the roar of the enraged audience "Come quickly!!!"
With frenzied determination I finally push my way out of the arena and into the cool evening, there standing before me is Squish and her cronies, as if they are guarding the door.
"Why look what we have here. It's the old disease bag himself. I'm guessing that Calmfury found you?" Squish says with her usual sneer.
I look hard at her as I focus my magic and summon my deathcharger into existence.
"Dat eemposter ees not Calmfury, he died remembah?!?" I growl furiously as I sling my pack over the undead mount.
"Well, you know we can't let you leave so quickly Goregreedy" Squish says "We have to get this little misunderstanding with Calmfury's gruntling squared away."
"Speekin of dat Gore, weere is Meekha? Why are you leavin witout her?" Slasherjoe says as he steps out from behind Squish's mob.
"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"
An unearthly and terrifying roar shakes the walls of the massive colliseum and echos across the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.
Squish and her band suddenly spring to attention, drawing their weapons and preparing to defend against whatever it is that is now rampaging through the inside of the arena.
I waste no time, taking advantage of the distraction, I jump on my deathcharger and spur the beast forward, towards the gates leaving the Valley of Honor. Behind me I can hear the muffled screams of the stampeding crowd, All trying to escape the massive building that has somehow become their tomb.
How is this even possible? For the first time in an age, terror fills my heart. Perhaps that Tauren was Calmfury and he somehow came back to life with the help of a Dreadlord of the Legion. Only a demon of that caliber could make such a horrible howl, drive fear in the hearts of veteran warriors, and slaughter them so easily. I know, I fought the Legion on Mount Hyjal.
My deathcharger pushes relentlessly past the gate and into the drag. As I turn towards the Valley of Strength and the front gates of Orgrimmar, I see the mighty warchief Thrall and his Kor'kron guards coming from Grommash Hold in the Valley of Wisdom. Apparently, they heard the roar and are going to face whatever it is that made it. Good, let them deal with the horror that is tearing up their precious city.
I spur my mount harder as I tear into the Valley of Strength towards the front gate. A growing crowd of the usual rabble that do business in the Auction house begin to swarm past me back towards the arena. No doubt they heard the commotion and want to check it out.
Hot wind and sand assaults my face as I pass through the outer gate and into the majestic desert of Durotar beyond. There outside the walls of Orgrimmar is the zepplin tower. I am fortunate because the massive airship is docked at the moment and loading supplies for its long voyage back to the Borean Tundra to Garrosh's fortress.
At the base of the tower I slide off my deathcharger, and dismiss the ghostly beast. Hoisting the heavy bag of gold over my shoulder, I make the long climb up the tower and stride onto the deck of the goblin zepplin. The little green bastards pay me little notice as I sit down at the edge of the ship and look out across the evening sky of Azeroth. Off in the distance I can see the faint glow of a fire from the center of Orgrimmar.
Soon, it will all be behind me.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Pt 43 Where the beast dwells
The fetid stink of the electrified mob was nearly unbearable. Within the dark confines of the massive arena lurked a press of Orcs, Trolls, Blood elves, and at least a few humans along with a stunted dwarf. All of them carousing, laughing, shouting and cheering at the bloody spectacle in the ring below.
I glance down in the ring and see what appears to be three skinny gnomes swirling and fighting. They look like comical children dressed as gladiators. One even fights with makeshift claws and is dressed as a lion. What a pathetic sight.
My task this night, as I fight to make my way through this bloodthirsty crowd, is to find the Deathknight known as Goregreedy. Squish said he was the one looking after little Meekha, which of course disturbs me greatly, even though he is her father, he has the cold heart of the Deathknight. He would never know how to take care of her or even how to love her. With any luck I can find her and take her to Thunder Bluff. I believe I can get Hamuul to teach her to be a druid. My dream is that she will be the first Orc to join the Order, and that she can fill the place that I cannot.
Through the roaring crowd I finally see him. Goregreedy has turned into a bloated, and disgusting shadow of his former self. He sits at the edge of the area on a throne of sorts. Around him are various servants and slave girls offering him food, drink, and false adoration. It seems that he has somehow gotten quite rich, perhaps betting on this circus they call a gladiatorial arena.
I anxiously press on with a renewed strength of purpose. I am so close to finding my adopted daughter, to see the look on her face when she realizes I am alive. I realize now that all things, even my burning hatred of Garrosh, are unimportant next to the need to find her.
"Aye!! Watch weer yer goin Mon!!" I knock aside a troll who then turns around and douses me with a sour smelling beer. I stare him in the face for a moment before the crowd suddenly explodes in a roaring cheer. We both look down into the arena and watch as the gnome dressed as a lion jumps on top of one of the other gladiators and begins disemboweling him with those nasty makeshift claws. Turning away, I take the opportunity to press forward to the edge of the arena where I can get to Goregreedy.
As I approach, my anger begins to stir, it quickly washes away any fear or apprehension. Without even thinking, I knock aside one of the serving wenches and grab the bloated and disgusting Orc by his stained tunic. His head snaps to look at me, and I see a mixture of fear and anger in his milky, pus filled eyes.
"Where is Meekha!?!" I say through gritted teeth.
He glares at me for a moment. I can smell his rotten breath as he gasps for air.
"Who dah hell do yah tink you are Toureen?!? Git yer filty hands off me!!" he says as I watch his hand reach frantically for his corroded maul sitting nearby.
I strain to lift his festering, bloated body up from his chair and away from his cursed weapon.
"I am Calmfury you puke! I have come back from the dead to get my daughter, and I am told you have her!!"
He stares at me in disbelief before stammering a in response.
"She's mah dawter." he says meekly "Ey am er Fodder."
"We had a deal Goregreedy! I watched over her and you stayed away. You lost the right to call her your child when you killed her mother in cold blood." I hiss
I see in his eyes the full realization that I am indeed Calmfury. We stare at one another for a moment. He will tell me where Meekha is or he will die.
Suddenly, the crowd explodes once again in a cheering roar. Goregeedy turns towards the arena floor and gasps as his mouth falls open in disbelief.
"Meekha!" he says in his phlegm filled voice "I am ruined!!"
I turn to the fight below to see the gnome dressed as a lion impaled on a spear. Over him stands the victor with his hands in the air. He reaches up and yanks off his helmet. Instead of a skinny, wirey gnome I see the face of a starving and scarred Orc child. He roars back at the crowd in triumph.
A voice suddenly booms over the crowd. "Korlong is victorius!! Dah long, bloody reign of dah Lioness of Duratar is over!!" The crowd roars even louder as I see people dancing in the stands. They begin to press towards us with greed in their eyes. "Meekha the Savage is slain!!" the announcer finally says.
My heart begins to pound furiously in my chest as I drop Goregreedy back into his chair and look at the arena below us. Tears well in my eyes, and flow like rivers down my cheeks. The skinny gnome dressed as a lion lays still on the sandy floor with a spear jutting from her chest.
I leap down into the arena, and knock aside the little orc boy still parading around the floor. The crowd suddenly turns and I feel all eyes upon me as I approach her bloody form. Her arms and legs are covered with scars and open wounds. Her delicate green flesh is bruised and battered.
With shaking limbs I kneel next to her and gently remove her helmet. Hoping beyond all hope it is not her. But, with an anguish I have never felt before I look at her face and into her innocent eyes and I see that it is indeed my little Meekha.
"Meekha... I am so sorry I could not get here sooner." I say with a pathetic sob.
She looks up at me weakly as blood runs out of her mouth. I can see the wretched pain in her eyes. She takes a moment to focus.
"Who are you?" she manages to say
She is still alive! I can still save her!!
"Charibdys!!!" I roar at the top of my lungs hoping that she can hear me above the crowd. If there is anyone here that can heal Meekha is it her. "Come quickly!!!"
"Master?!?" Meekha says weakly. "Is that you?"
"Yes my child it is me. I have come back from the dead to find you. I have come to save you and take you far away from this place." I say with hopeless determination
"Charibdys!!!" I shout even louder.
Through the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd I hear her. "Calmfury!! I am coming" she yells as she fights to make her way through the mass of spectators.
I look up to find her just in time to have a half filled tankard of ale hit me in the face. Above me the crowd has turned angry, shouting obscenities and curses at me. Their leering and twisted faces staring at me as they begin to throw food, cups and anything else they can find.
My anger begins to boil and seethe within me. It is matched only by my anguish.
"Master" Meekha says in her pathetic voice as I turn and try to shield her with my body. "I am sorry I could not.." she gasps a bit for air as she coughs up a wad of foamy blood. "I wanted to learn to fight to avenge your death. I am sorry I disappointed you."
As I look into her darkening eyes I feel a bottomless swell of anguish and helplessness.
"Meekha, I swear to you. That I will not rest until the blood of Garrosh and the blood of Goregreedy is spilled. Their bodies will be broken and their hearts ripped from their chest. They will know no rest or peace while I still live. Even if it takes me a thousand lifetimes."
Her eyes go dark as I watch the last bit of life drain away. Charibdys lands hard on the sandy floor and runs to my side. She grabs the body of Meekha and begins to focus her healing magic. But, I know it is too late.
As I slowly stand I feel my muscles tense up and grim determination comes over me. They will all pay for what they did. Not a single one of them who felt joy at her death will leave this place.
Then, it comes. I suddenly feel a burning presence glaring at me from behind, a presence I have not felt for a long time. I slowly turn around, as debris is still being thrown at me, and there before me on the arena floor stands a ghostly black wolf. His oily fur bristling, and his slobbering maw hanging open like the gates of hell.
"Diogenes, my foolish love. Did you really think you could hide from me forever? You eluded me well this time, but your anger always brings me back, and this time, I will not let you leave me." the vicious ghostwolf says in a booming whisper to my mind.
As I stare at the apparition for a moment everything seems to go quiet. Time slows down as I come to the full realization of this horrid fate. They all said I was out of balance, and they were all right. I am not really a druid, but an avatar of sorts. An engine of immortal destruction. The incarnation of fury.
"Charibdys" I say slowly. "take Meekhas body to Mulgore and prepare a funeral pyre. I will meet you there in two days time."
She looks up at me in astonishment. "Calmfury, what are you going to do?"
Ignoring her I turn once again to the wolf. "Come to me worgen, come and let us cleanse the filth of this place."
With fluid grace I shift into a lion and leap up to the edge of the arena. The crowd parts from my hulking form as I glare at them with burning hatred. Then, I feel a hotness pour through my body and my bones begin to crack. I feel myself swell and grow larger as my muscles expand and my claws grow into vicious sabers. Instead of just a lion, I am become something else. I stand in full glory before their terror filled faces.
"It is through you Diogenes that I shall wield a greater power. Together we will crush our enemies!" the ghostly voice says in my mind.
"I will kill every last one of you!!" I manage to roar as the crowd begins to panic, and frantically tries scampers away.
"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"
My horrific roar echoes through the canyons of Orgrimmar, shaking the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.
I glance down in the ring and see what appears to be three skinny gnomes swirling and fighting. They look like comical children dressed as gladiators. One even fights with makeshift claws and is dressed as a lion. What a pathetic sight.
My task this night, as I fight to make my way through this bloodthirsty crowd, is to find the Deathknight known as Goregreedy. Squish said he was the one looking after little Meekha, which of course disturbs me greatly, even though he is her father, he has the cold heart of the Deathknight. He would never know how to take care of her or even how to love her. With any luck I can find her and take her to Thunder Bluff. I believe I can get Hamuul to teach her to be a druid. My dream is that she will be the first Orc to join the Order, and that she can fill the place that I cannot.
Through the roaring crowd I finally see him. Goregreedy has turned into a bloated, and disgusting shadow of his former self. He sits at the edge of the area on a throne of sorts. Around him are various servants and slave girls offering him food, drink, and false adoration. It seems that he has somehow gotten quite rich, perhaps betting on this circus they call a gladiatorial arena.
I anxiously press on with a renewed strength of purpose. I am so close to finding my adopted daughter, to see the look on her face when she realizes I am alive. I realize now that all things, even my burning hatred of Garrosh, are unimportant next to the need to find her.
"Aye!! Watch weer yer goin Mon!!" I knock aside a troll who then turns around and douses me with a sour smelling beer. I stare him in the face for a moment before the crowd suddenly explodes in a roaring cheer. We both look down into the arena and watch as the gnome dressed as a lion jumps on top of one of the other gladiators and begins disemboweling him with those nasty makeshift claws. Turning away, I take the opportunity to press forward to the edge of the arena where I can get to Goregreedy.
As I approach, my anger begins to stir, it quickly washes away any fear or apprehension. Without even thinking, I knock aside one of the serving wenches and grab the bloated and disgusting Orc by his stained tunic. His head snaps to look at me, and I see a mixture of fear and anger in his milky, pus filled eyes.
"Where is Meekha!?!" I say through gritted teeth.
He glares at me for a moment. I can smell his rotten breath as he gasps for air.
"Who dah hell do yah tink you are Toureen?!? Git yer filty hands off me!!" he says as I watch his hand reach frantically for his corroded maul sitting nearby.
I strain to lift his festering, bloated body up from his chair and away from his cursed weapon.
"I am Calmfury you puke! I have come back from the dead to get my daughter, and I am told you have her!!"
He stares at me in disbelief before stammering a in response.
"She's mah dawter." he says meekly "Ey am er Fodder."
"We had a deal Goregreedy! I watched over her and you stayed away. You lost the right to call her your child when you killed her mother in cold blood." I hiss
I see in his eyes the full realization that I am indeed Calmfury. We stare at one another for a moment. He will tell me where Meekha is or he will die.
Suddenly, the crowd explodes once again in a cheering roar. Goregeedy turns towards the arena floor and gasps as his mouth falls open in disbelief.
"Meekha!" he says in his phlegm filled voice "I am ruined!!"
I turn to the fight below to see the gnome dressed as a lion impaled on a spear. Over him stands the victor with his hands in the air. He reaches up and yanks off his helmet. Instead of a skinny, wirey gnome I see the face of a starving and scarred Orc child. He roars back at the crowd in triumph.
A voice suddenly booms over the crowd. "Korlong is victorius!! Dah long, bloody reign of dah Lioness of Duratar is over!!" The crowd roars even louder as I see people dancing in the stands. They begin to press towards us with greed in their eyes. "Meekha the Savage is slain!!" the announcer finally says.
My heart begins to pound furiously in my chest as I drop Goregreedy back into his chair and look at the arena below us. Tears well in my eyes, and flow like rivers down my cheeks. The skinny gnome dressed as a lion lays still on the sandy floor with a spear jutting from her chest.
I leap down into the arena, and knock aside the little orc boy still parading around the floor. The crowd suddenly turns and I feel all eyes upon me as I approach her bloody form. Her arms and legs are covered with scars and open wounds. Her delicate green flesh is bruised and battered.
With shaking limbs I kneel next to her and gently remove her helmet. Hoping beyond all hope it is not her. But, with an anguish I have never felt before I look at her face and into her innocent eyes and I see that it is indeed my little Meekha.
"Meekha... I am so sorry I could not get here sooner." I say with a pathetic sob.
She looks up at me weakly as blood runs out of her mouth. I can see the wretched pain in her eyes. She takes a moment to focus.
"Who are you?" she manages to say
She is still alive! I can still save her!!
"Charibdys!!!" I roar at the top of my lungs hoping that she can hear me above the crowd. If there is anyone here that can heal Meekha is it her. "Come quickly!!!"
"Master?!?" Meekha says weakly. "Is that you?"
"Yes my child it is me. I have come back from the dead to find you. I have come to save you and take you far away from this place." I say with hopeless determination
"Charibdys!!!" I shout even louder.
Through the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd I hear her. "Calmfury!! I am coming" she yells as she fights to make her way through the mass of spectators.
I look up to find her just in time to have a half filled tankard of ale hit me in the face. Above me the crowd has turned angry, shouting obscenities and curses at me. Their leering and twisted faces staring at me as they begin to throw food, cups and anything else they can find.
My anger begins to boil and seethe within me. It is matched only by my anguish.
"Master" Meekha says in her pathetic voice as I turn and try to shield her with my body. "I am sorry I could not.." she gasps a bit for air as she coughs up a wad of foamy blood. "I wanted to learn to fight to avenge your death. I am sorry I disappointed you."
As I look into her darkening eyes I feel a bottomless swell of anguish and helplessness.
"Meekha, I swear to you. That I will not rest until the blood of Garrosh and the blood of Goregreedy is spilled. Their bodies will be broken and their hearts ripped from their chest. They will know no rest or peace while I still live. Even if it takes me a thousand lifetimes."
Her eyes go dark as I watch the last bit of life drain away. Charibdys lands hard on the sandy floor and runs to my side. She grabs the body of Meekha and begins to focus her healing magic. But, I know it is too late.
As I slowly stand I feel my muscles tense up and grim determination comes over me. They will all pay for what they did. Not a single one of them who felt joy at her death will leave this place.
Then, it comes. I suddenly feel a burning presence glaring at me from behind, a presence I have not felt for a long time. I slowly turn around, as debris is still being thrown at me, and there before me on the arena floor stands a ghostly black wolf. His oily fur bristling, and his slobbering maw hanging open like the gates of hell.
"Diogenes, my foolish love. Did you really think you could hide from me forever? You eluded me well this time, but your anger always brings me back, and this time, I will not let you leave me." the vicious ghostwolf says in a booming whisper to my mind.
As I stare at the apparition for a moment everything seems to go quiet. Time slows down as I come to the full realization of this horrid fate. They all said I was out of balance, and they were all right. I am not really a druid, but an avatar of sorts. An engine of immortal destruction. The incarnation of fury.
"Charibdys" I say slowly. "take Meekhas body to Mulgore and prepare a funeral pyre. I will meet you there in two days time."
She looks up at me in astonishment. "Calmfury, what are you going to do?"
Ignoring her I turn once again to the wolf. "Come to me worgen, come and let us cleanse the filth of this place."
With fluid grace I shift into a lion and leap up to the edge of the arena. The crowd parts from my hulking form as I glare at them with burning hatred. Then, I feel a hotness pour through my body and my bones begin to crack. I feel myself swell and grow larger as my muscles expand and my claws grow into vicious sabers. Instead of just a lion, I am become something else. I stand in full glory before their terror filled faces.
"It is through you Diogenes that I shall wield a greater power. Together we will crush our enemies!" the ghostly voice says in my mind.
"I will kill every last one of you!!" I manage to roar as the crowd begins to panic, and frantically tries scampers away.
"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"
My horrific roar echoes through the canyons of Orgrimmar, shaking the sandstone walls of the valleys beyond.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
pt 42 The Arena
The commotion can be heard echoing across the canyons of the Valley of Honor. In the fading light of the approaching evening, a crowd gathers at the entryway of the Ring of Valor.
Normally, the massive arena, tucked away in the north east corner of Orgrimmar, is used for the myriad of fighting events that take place from time to time. It's Arena Battlemaster, War Hunter Molog, supervises scores of fights each day by both professional gladiators, and convicted criminals. However, in the evenings a mob takes over the arena for what the authorities think are small, harmless grudge matches by restless amateurs out to prove their fighting prowess. I guess in their minds it's better to have these kind of fights in here rather than in the streets.
It has been several months since I last checked in on my old friend Goregreedy. The last time I saw him was when I reunited him with his daughter. She was so heartbroken over the death of Calmfury. After barely escaping from the Argent Tournament and the wrath of Garrosh, I tried unsuccessfully to console her. But, I am a warrior not a nursemaid and I decided it was best that she go and live with her real father in Orgrimmar.
The mob outside the arena was small compared to the mass that had congregated inside. All of them laughing and drinking heavily. The smell of sweaty flesh and booze is almost overpowering.
Being a professional gladiator myself, I am accustomed to the savage mobs at these places. I travel to fights all across Azeroth and even into Outland. However, something seems different about this group. There is an insidious electricity in the air, as if everyone is here to witness an atrocity or a crime. Such is the nature of amateur fights I suppose.
After searching for a short time I find him. Goregreedy sits in a throne-like chair at the edge of the arena. He isn't wearing his armor anymore, and for good reason, in the past few month it looks like he's gained some weight, as his bloated, boil and disease ridden belly hangs out from beneath his clothes, that are now too small for him. At his side is that same old maul he has carried around since I have known him. He is talking to a group of people, and taking small bags of what I know are coins. I have been around long enough to recognize a gambler when I see one.
It takes me a bit to press my way through the crowd towards him. As I do, I can't help but glance down at the arena. It's blood stained sand floor remains empty except for the carcass of a bright yellow scorpid. Obviously I have either missed the main attraction or just a small opening fight.
"Ey Goregreedy, yer lookin like crap as usual" I say as slap him on his stained tunic.
He quickly turns to me, and his face lights up in a big smile. "Slasherjoe!! ya durty basturd!! How dah hell are ya doing!!" He takes a moment to stand up to give me a bear hug. As usual, his smell makes me gag, but what should I expect from a deathknight.
"Whut are ya doin in Orgrimmar des days?" he says as he falls heavily back down into his chair.
"Well, I gut a messuge frum Squish. She's comin tah town and wunts to see yous right away." As I speak, a troll tries to press a bag of coins into Goregreedy's hand, only to have him waved away.
"Git away!!" Goregreedy barks. "Eym not takin eny moar bets!!"
As if by some strange sense of respect or fear, the troll turns away without an argument. Usually, a bet taker will get harassed with negotiations for better odds or a larger bet on a fight.
"Aey Gore, weer is Meekha tonight?" I ask.
The Deathknight turns back to me with an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eye and a smile across his hideous face.
"Har har har!! Sheel be here soon eynuff" he says as he picks up a haunch of meat and stuffs it into his mouth.
"So, like ey said... Squish is ere lookin fer yah, sez eets real importint. Yu know how she ees, whin she whunts sumptin she whunts eet now. Whut do you whunt me ta tell er?"
Goregreedy stares at me blankly as he chews his food with an open mouth.
Suddenly, horns blare out loudly, drawing the attention of the crowd to an announcer.
"Its time fer dah fight you savage dogs!!!" the goblin announcer shouts in a voice that seems too big for his small frame.
"Slasher!" Goregreedy say as he grabs my arm. "Dis is gunna be good. Yah not gunna believ whut we got going tunight."
I've seen every fight imaginable. They all end up the same, in a pool of blood. Fortunately, I am too good to die in such a way.
"In dis corner!! Dah twin terrers of Duratar. Gronk and Korlong!!"
Out of the shadows walk two very young orc children. They are apparently twin brothers, and they each carry a short, pathetic spear. The bloodthirsty, anxious crowd cheers in anticipation.
"Whut the hell is dis Gore?!? Des peons are too young tah fight in dah arena!!" I say as I angrily grab him by the head. As I do, a clump of his greasy hair rips off into my hand.
"Let go of meh yah stoopid git!!" he says as he tries to shove me back. "Des gruntlins are gettin dah best educatin on how tah fight!! Nun of dem is gettin kilt or nutin!!"
"Yoo mean tah tell me yah have been fightin orfaned gruntlins in dah arena?!" I say in a frothing rage through clentched teeth.
"...And in dis corner!! Dah ferocious beast herself!!" the crowd starts roaring and stomping "Dah bloodthirsty Lioness of Duratar!! Meekha the Savage!!"
Out of the shadows on the other side steps a small orcish girl. She is dressed in bits of leather and mail armor with an ornate leather helm in the shape of a lion's face covering her head. In her hands she holds a pair of barbed fighting claws. Even from here I can see that her sweaty green body is covered by numerous scars and abrasions. Her muscles are lean and wirey as if she has been training hard to for this fight.
"You wretched basturd!!" I yell as I punch Goregreedy square in the face.
The disgusting Deathknight stands up and grabs the maul at his side.
"Stop eet yah basturd dog!! Eet wus her idea. She wunted tah be a warrior!"
I stare at him for a moment in complete disbelief and disgust. I have fought all this time in the arena as a gladiator, a noble profession amongst the Orcs. I know what goes on. I can't believe that a father would let his daughter do this, even if she asked. We orcs pride ourselves as warriors, but never would we have our children fight each other for sport, not even in the darkest days on Draenor.
"Ey cant stand tah watch yah do dis to yer daughter Gore. I hope she rips yer guts out sumday." I say as I turn and press through the roaring crowd.
Somehow it feels wrong of me to just leave. The thought crosses my mind for a moment to jump in the arena and stop the fight. To take Meekha away from this place and to really teach her how to fight and be a proud orc. But, as I leave the arena I realize that this is between a father and his daughter and that I have no business getting involved. Still, the heartbreak of seeing her come to this brings a tear to my eye. I can't help but look up at the dusty evening sky and say a prayer to the ancestors to help her.
"Slasher!!"
I look down the worn street leading to the arena and I see Squish leading a small entourage towards me. All of the old faces of Bloodlust are with her, along with a few new ones.
"Did you find Goregreedy as I asked?" the Bloodelf says as she approaches.
"Yea, hees in dere." I say with my head held down as I gesture towards the arena.
"Good, you continue to serve me well orc. Stick around, I need to talk to you." Squish says as she walks past me towards the massive building.
I follow the group back up the short walk to the door.
"I'm not going in there." Squish says as she stops at the entryway. "Calmfury, your on your own. We will wait out here until your done. Make it quick!
I watch as a burly looking Tauren at her side reluctantly lumbers forward and starts wading into the mob inside.
"Wait, Squish did yous call em Calmfury?" I say with a sneer.
Squish turns to me and nods with a half grin on her face.
"Dats not funny Squish" I say as I look back up at the faint twinkle of the evening stars. "Calmfury wus mah freend, ah watch'd Garrosh hack em tah peeces."
Squish continues to smile in her arrogant, all-knowning fashion.
"I am going in with him." another tauren says, this one a woman, as she runs forward and presses into the crowd.
Squish just sighs and shakes her head. "This is going to take forever."
Normally, the massive arena, tucked away in the north east corner of Orgrimmar, is used for the myriad of fighting events that take place from time to time. It's Arena Battlemaster, War Hunter Molog, supervises scores of fights each day by both professional gladiators, and convicted criminals. However, in the evenings a mob takes over the arena for what the authorities think are small, harmless grudge matches by restless amateurs out to prove their fighting prowess. I guess in their minds it's better to have these kind of fights in here rather than in the streets.
It has been several months since I last checked in on my old friend Goregreedy. The last time I saw him was when I reunited him with his daughter. She was so heartbroken over the death of Calmfury. After barely escaping from the Argent Tournament and the wrath of Garrosh, I tried unsuccessfully to console her. But, I am a warrior not a nursemaid and I decided it was best that she go and live with her real father in Orgrimmar.
The mob outside the arena was small compared to the mass that had congregated inside. All of them laughing and drinking heavily. The smell of sweaty flesh and booze is almost overpowering.
Being a professional gladiator myself, I am accustomed to the savage mobs at these places. I travel to fights all across Azeroth and even into Outland. However, something seems different about this group. There is an insidious electricity in the air, as if everyone is here to witness an atrocity or a crime. Such is the nature of amateur fights I suppose.
After searching for a short time I find him. Goregreedy sits in a throne-like chair at the edge of the arena. He isn't wearing his armor anymore, and for good reason, in the past few month it looks like he's gained some weight, as his bloated, boil and disease ridden belly hangs out from beneath his clothes, that are now too small for him. At his side is that same old maul he has carried around since I have known him. He is talking to a group of people, and taking small bags of what I know are coins. I have been around long enough to recognize a gambler when I see one.
It takes me a bit to press my way through the crowd towards him. As I do, I can't help but glance down at the arena. It's blood stained sand floor remains empty except for the carcass of a bright yellow scorpid. Obviously I have either missed the main attraction or just a small opening fight.
"Ey Goregreedy, yer lookin like crap as usual" I say as slap him on his stained tunic.
He quickly turns to me, and his face lights up in a big smile. "Slasherjoe!! ya durty basturd!! How dah hell are ya doing!!" He takes a moment to stand up to give me a bear hug. As usual, his smell makes me gag, but what should I expect from a deathknight.
"Whut are ya doin in Orgrimmar des days?" he says as he falls heavily back down into his chair.
"Well, I gut a messuge frum Squish. She's comin tah town and wunts to see yous right away." As I speak, a troll tries to press a bag of coins into Goregreedy's hand, only to have him waved away.
"Git away!!" Goregreedy barks. "Eym not takin eny moar bets!!"
As if by some strange sense of respect or fear, the troll turns away without an argument. Usually, a bet taker will get harassed with negotiations for better odds or a larger bet on a fight.
"Aey Gore, weer is Meekha tonight?" I ask.
The Deathknight turns back to me with an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eye and a smile across his hideous face.
"Har har har!! Sheel be here soon eynuff" he says as he picks up a haunch of meat and stuffs it into his mouth.
"So, like ey said... Squish is ere lookin fer yah, sez eets real importint. Yu know how she ees, whin she whunts sumptin she whunts eet now. Whut do you whunt me ta tell er?"
Goregreedy stares at me blankly as he chews his food with an open mouth.
Suddenly, horns blare out loudly, drawing the attention of the crowd to an announcer.
"Its time fer dah fight you savage dogs!!!" the goblin announcer shouts in a voice that seems too big for his small frame.
"Slasher!" Goregreedy say as he grabs my arm. "Dis is gunna be good. Yah not gunna believ whut we got going tunight."
I've seen every fight imaginable. They all end up the same, in a pool of blood. Fortunately, I am too good to die in such a way.
"In dis corner!! Dah twin terrers of Duratar. Gronk and Korlong!!"
Out of the shadows walk two very young orc children. They are apparently twin brothers, and they each carry a short, pathetic spear. The bloodthirsty, anxious crowd cheers in anticipation.
"Whut the hell is dis Gore?!? Des peons are too young tah fight in dah arena!!" I say as I angrily grab him by the head. As I do, a clump of his greasy hair rips off into my hand.
"Let go of meh yah stoopid git!!" he says as he tries to shove me back. "Des gruntlins are gettin dah best educatin on how tah fight!! Nun of dem is gettin kilt or nutin!!"
"Yoo mean tah tell me yah have been fightin orfaned gruntlins in dah arena?!" I say in a frothing rage through clentched teeth.
"...And in dis corner!! Dah ferocious beast herself!!" the crowd starts roaring and stomping "Dah bloodthirsty Lioness of Duratar!! Meekha the Savage!!"
Out of the shadows on the other side steps a small orcish girl. She is dressed in bits of leather and mail armor with an ornate leather helm in the shape of a lion's face covering her head. In her hands she holds a pair of barbed fighting claws. Even from here I can see that her sweaty green body is covered by numerous scars and abrasions. Her muscles are lean and wirey as if she has been training hard to for this fight.
"You wretched basturd!!" I yell as I punch Goregreedy square in the face.
The disgusting Deathknight stands up and grabs the maul at his side.
"Stop eet yah basturd dog!! Eet wus her idea. She wunted tah be a warrior!"
I stare at him for a moment in complete disbelief and disgust. I have fought all this time in the arena as a gladiator, a noble profession amongst the Orcs. I know what goes on. I can't believe that a father would let his daughter do this, even if she asked. We orcs pride ourselves as warriors, but never would we have our children fight each other for sport, not even in the darkest days on Draenor.
"Ey cant stand tah watch yah do dis to yer daughter Gore. I hope she rips yer guts out sumday." I say as I turn and press through the roaring crowd.
Somehow it feels wrong of me to just leave. The thought crosses my mind for a moment to jump in the arena and stop the fight. To take Meekha away from this place and to really teach her how to fight and be a proud orc. But, as I leave the arena I realize that this is between a father and his daughter and that I have no business getting involved. Still, the heartbreak of seeing her come to this brings a tear to my eye. I can't help but look up at the dusty evening sky and say a prayer to the ancestors to help her.
"Slasher!!"
I look down the worn street leading to the arena and I see Squish leading a small entourage towards me. All of the old faces of Bloodlust are with her, along with a few new ones.
"Did you find Goregreedy as I asked?" the Bloodelf says as she approaches.
"Yea, hees in dere." I say with my head held down as I gesture towards the arena.
"Good, you continue to serve me well orc. Stick around, I need to talk to you." Squish says as she walks past me towards the massive building.
I follow the group back up the short walk to the door.
"I'm not going in there." Squish says as she stops at the entryway. "Calmfury, your on your own. We will wait out here until your done. Make it quick!
I watch as a burly looking Tauren at her side reluctantly lumbers forward and starts wading into the mob inside.
"Wait, Squish did yous call em Calmfury?" I say with a sneer.
Squish turns to me and nods with a half grin on her face.
"Dats not funny Squish" I say as I look back up at the faint twinkle of the evening stars. "Calmfury wus mah freend, ah watch'd Garrosh hack em tah peeces."
Squish continues to smile in her arrogant, all-knowning fashion.
"I am going in with him." another tauren says, this one a woman, as she runs forward and presses into the crowd.
Squish just sighs and shakes her head. "This is going to take forever."
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