Imagination is everything…
Chapter 7 – The Fall
Mar 5th
Zuxana awoke to find herself lying on a dusty wooden floor. Disoriented, she tried to push herself up, only to fall flat on the ground again, groaning in pain.
The large Tauren had lived through many battles, but had never felt pain quite like this. It was as though something was clawing at her side, trying to rip her left arm off of her body. She ignored it as best she could and rolled to her right side, pushing herself into an upright sitting position with a quick jolt. She then turned to look at her left side, and was surprised to find a big empty and bloody space where her arm used to be.
“We tried as best we could,” Gregory Victor said from the other end of the room. ”By the time you got to us, the arm was gone, and I thought you as well. You’re lucky we were able to save you.”
Without acknowledging the Undead doctor, Zuxana attempted to stand. The room began to spin as she made it to her feet, and she quickly grabbed hold of the wall to avoid stumbling onto the wounded that lay on the ground around her.
“Be careful,” Victor said, “you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
Zuxana looked down at her armour and nodded. It was drenched in drying blood, most of which was becoming solid and crusty. She instinctively tried to wipe it off, but soon realized that it wouldn’t do much. Still, she kept on trying to wipe the blood off until Victor walked up and forcefully stopped her hand.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, trying to convey a sense of concern that his Undead body simply did not know how to mimic.
“Numbers?” she asked dryly.
“It doesn’t look good I’m affraid,” he said, “so far I’ve counted over 180.”
The number caused Zuxana’s heart to skip a beat. Razorwind, at its peak, had boasted about 230 members. If the numbers were correct, and over 180 warriors had perished, then the guild’s numbers had just dropped to less than 20 members. No, this couldn’t be right, 90 percent of her guild could not have just been killed by the Alliance.
“I need to get back,” she said in a weak but firm voice, “I need to get to Undercity.”
Victor hesitated, looking at her wound with concern. He knew she wasn’t in any shape to fly, yet something told him it wasn’t any use arguing with her.
“You can get a bat from the bat handler outside”, he finally answered.
“Bat?” Zuxana asked surprised, “I thought Hammerfall was serviced by Wyverns?”
“It was, but orders came down a while back to start using bats, it was something about them being faster I believe,” Victor explained, then added: “and with the amount of bodies they’re currently flying to Undercity, its probably for the best!”
This peaked her interest, but didn’t change the fact that she needed to get to Undercity, where Razorwind survivors would be gathering for the battle debriefing. If Zuxana didn’t get there soon, they would probably assume the worst and begin without her, and she couldn’t let that happen.
Zuxana pushed herself out of the cabin and headed towards the bat handler as fast – and as straight – as she could.
***
The door slammed open, catching everyone by surprise and revealing a very mean looking Hallpass.
The small Undead mage took a few seconds to let his presence sink in. He then quietly scanned the room from end to end, making eye contact with everyone within it. He knew them all, each a fellow guild member that he’d recruited, taught, and mentored, and each showing signs of fatigue and stress, having just survived a very horrible battle.
His yellow glowing eyes finally rested upon the large green orc that stood in the middle of the room.
“Varathron,” he said with his strong, deep Undead voice, “what’s going on here?”
“So nice of you to join us Hallpass,” the Orc said sarcasticly. ”We were just talking amongst each other, going over the battle and what not. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“Considering Zuxana isn’t here yet, I would say that yes, there is something wrong with that,” Hallpass replied dryly.
“Zuxana?!” Varathron asked laughing, “Bwahahaha! Last time I saw her she was resting in pieces in Hammerfall.”
“Stop right there Var!” Hallpass roared from the back of the room. ”Zuxana is not on the list of casualties, and until someone informs me that she should be, she is still the leader of Razorwind. We will wait for her to arrive before we start the debriefing.”
Varathron slowly stepped towards the undead mage. ”Well then, maybe we don’t want to be in Razorwind anymore.”
“If that’s the case, then leave. And anybody in here right now that feels the same way can leave too.”
Several of the most vocal members of the crowd got up and formed ranks behind Varathron, who stood proudly before them. They then turned, and began marching out of the debriefing room.
“Var,” Hallpass said as the giant Orc walked by him, “think about what you are doing, this won’t bring Sefira back.”
Varathron turned, eyes as black as coal, “Don’t you dare say here name! You’re lucky I respected you once, otherwise I’d kill you where you stand.”
Hallpass silently stood and met each one’s gaze as they walked by him. Some looked back at himwith respect, others with anger, and others not at all. When all had left, the room consisted of no more than five people, and Hallpass knew very well that the worst had just happened.
Razorwind was no more.
Chapter 6 – Gregory Victor
Apr 27th
Gregory Victor didn’t remember much of his previous life, but he remembered the days of the plague vividly. He was a doctor at the time, and had spent most of his days walking from village to village, curing the sick and needy. He remembered how he would often be called away from the sick to help the many wounded soldiers coming back from battle. He remembered how this had made him despise the Orcs, how he blamed all the wars and the dead on those savage green-skinned brutes, and how he believed – as many others had at the time – that they were the enemy and needed to be defeated.
Oh how we had been wrong, he often thought to himself. If only we’d taken the time to look at what was happening around us.
Blindly, most Humans had ignored the many warning sings around them. Instead, they had gotten into the tainted grain and were quickly infected with the plague. The unlucky few that survived, that hid from their blood-thirsty neighbours in crates and in cellars, would only live long enough to see Lordaeron fall to the hands of the Scourge. Most would die soon after, either from exhaustion, from hunger, or from getting caught trying to flee the now forsaken lands. Gregory Victor didn’t remember how he died, and didn’t quite remember how he came back to life either. All he remembered was that he had once been a doctor, and that he would continue being a doctor.
Victor was now stationed at Hammerfall and spent his days teaching first aid to recruits and soldiers. Earlier in the morning, he had had a feeling that today would be busy, and no less than five distant explosions later, he was struggling to keep his sanity as dozens of wounded Horde soldiers began flying in from Tarren Mill.
Hamerfall was chaotic as guards unloaded the dead and wounded from the arriving bats, while the doctor heard himself bark orders as he quickly reviewed each wounded soldier.
“Here, take this bandage and apply pressure to your wound! You, sit down and raise that leg into the air! Oh my, where’s her arm? Take her inside and clean the wound, I’ll come by as soon as possible to get things stitched up!”
Looking at the empty socket where the Tauren’s left shoulder had once been, he knew he had just lied. By the time he would make it to her, she would most probably be dead from loss of blood. He shook his head and walked up to the Wind Rider, asking her to send word for some more healers.
“Lets also get some triage going here and send some of the lightly wounded out to Undercity,” he added. ”From there they’ll be able to get bandages and patch themselves up, and I’ll be able to concentrate on those that really need my help.”
“Yes sir,” the Orc replied, quickly turning back and ordering her fellow comrades to begin a triage.
“If there is urgent need for me, come get me in my cabin,” the doctor shouted, turning and heading back to the grey building in the south of Hammerfall.
Maybe now I’ll be able to help that armless Tauren before she looses too much blood, he thought to himself.
****
A large, green, and smelly (Victor could only imagine, seeing as how he no longer had a sense of smell) orc quietly walked in the door, a solitary tear rolling down his left cheek. In his bloody arms, he held an unconscious female troll which he presented to Victor as though he were awarding him a prize. Victor quickly finished bandaging the Tauren’s open socket and bounced over to see the Troll.
He gasped, looking down at her mangled body. She was still breathing, which was surprising considering her body had obviously been pierced by a multitude of arrows and her chest punctured by a large dagger. The doctor gently wiped his bony finger along the side of the biggest of the cuts and found a light green substance that bubbled to the touch.
A poisoned rogue blade, Victor thought, measuring the size of the wound.
“Help her,” the large Orc wimped in a small voice. ”You have to help her.”
Victor did his best at bandaging the Troll’s punctured body and cleaning the wounds of poison, but by the time he was done, he noticed that she had stopped breathing. Putting his hand on her chest, he listened for a heart beat that never came.
“I’m sorry,” Victor finally heard himself say. ”The blade that stabbed her was poisonned, and her body has succumb to it, there’s nothing more I can do.”
Victor remained by the Orc as he began to sob, then cry loudly. As helpers came to pickup the body, the Orc suddenly jumped in front of them and became aggressive.
“No one touches her!” he shouted as a large golden lion bounced in from outside and roared a threatening roar. The lion remained there, blocking the way to the helpers, as the Orc bent down, picked up the troll from the bed where the doctor had put her, walked out of the cabin.
“Don’t worry Sefira,” he murmured into her ear, tears running down his face, “I’ll find you a good place to rest.”
Chapter 5 (part 3) – The Front Line
Jan 26th
Folaji and Gwyndolynne had many things in common, which was surprising considering they both openly disagreed on almost everything.
The two young troll mages would often spend hours on end trying to outdo each other. Who could cast the fastest arcane missiles? Who could polymorph into the cutest sheep? The two would fight for dominance over the most trivial of things, casting their spells on the odd passing rat, which was all to often the victim their rivalry.
Despite their constant bickering the pair, had been recruited by Hallpass, who saw potential in their powers. The two trolls quickly accepted and were soon young members of the Razorwind Guild. They would spend hours on end listening to the teachings of the undead Mage, and continued to challenge each other at every opportunity that presented itself.
“Such blind pride will eventually get you both killed,” Hallpass repeatedly warned his two students, although he often felt as though his warnings fell on deaf ears.
After several weeks of training, the two trolls were finally ready to begin specializing in a school of magic. Gwyndolynne quickly chose the study of Frost, whereas Folaji unsurprisingly chose its exact opposite: Fire.
There was no doubt in Hallpass’ mind that these choices would further fuel the pair’s rivalry, yet to his surprise, it had quite the opposite effect. His two students quickly learned to manipulate the elements, and were soon training together. Folaji would create a series of large fire plumes and Gwyndolynne would quickly put the plumes out by creating small, localized blizzards.
The unhealthy rivalry between the two had allowed both students to find the flaws in each school, and they were now able to work together and complement each other’s spells in order to get a maximum effect, something Hallpass never imagined would happen.
***
As the battle between Tarren Mill and SouthShore wore on, the rivalry between Gwyndolynne and Folaji bloomed anew.
The pair had been ordered to stay behind the line and kill any alliance that tried to get through to Tarren Mill. Everytime an enemy soldier dropped to the ground, they counted the kill – they were going to find out, once and for all, which school of magic was the best.
“That’s 8! Frost is winning!” Gwyndolynne cheered as one of her frostbolts landed onto a bloodied gnome. The bolt froze the gnome’s body in place, causing it to fall to the ground and explode into a million of tiny frozen pieces.
“Dat’s not fair,” Folaji protested, casting a fireball of his own. ”Gnomes should count for half a kill!”
“Oh please,” Gwyndolynne replied, “if that’s the way we’re counting then you’re at 3 not 6!”
“Ya mean 7!” Folaji cheered, as his fireball violently struck a human priest, causing his white robe to catch on fire. Surprised, the priest began to run in circles, but the flames were to hot, and he soon fell to the ground, dead.
Gwyndolynne jeered at Folaji.
I can’t let him win, she thought to herself.
The female troll turned and studied the battle field, searching for another bloodied enemy. She had been selecting her prey carefully, only casting spells on foes who had already been knocked around quite a bit. This allowed her to conserve mana all the while keeping her kill count up. As she scanned the battle field, she saw a lot of death an destruction, and only a handful of alliance warriors who had been able to make it through the line.
She targeted one of the warriors, a large armour clad night elf, only to see him drop to the ground. She then saw a large green Orc run over to the corpse and pull what appeared to be a large undead rag doll from under the night elf’s body. Gwyndolynne soon recognized the pair as Hallpass and Varathron. The two stood for a while, Hallpass burning an attacking gnome to a crisp, and then looking, almost staring, at something up in the sky.
Gwyndolynne followed her mentor’s gaze and was immediatly overwhelmed with a sense of urgency: a large ballista arrow was heading straight for him.
“Oh no!” She shouted as she ran forward, a surprised Folaji following out of trained instinct.
“Watsa matta?” he shouted.
She quickly raised her arm and pointed at the large, explosive carrying, ballista arrow. Folaji felt his chin fall to the ground.
“Blast it Fol,” Gwyndolynne shouted.
“Are you crazy? Dat would create a large flying fireba…”
“Do it!”
“I hope ya know what you’re doin’…” Folaji replied, an arc of bright orange flame flying out from his right hand. The flame rubbed the explosives on the ballista, igniting them into a large flying fireball.
At the same time, Gwyndolynne released a barrage of frostbolts at the explosion. The frostbolts zipped through the air and into the explosion, effectively putting the fire out before it crashed to the ground. Small pieces of burnt rubble was all that remained from the blast, bouncing off soldier’s armors and falling to ground. A relieved Hallpass looked back at both his students with pride: he now owed them his life.
Gwyndolynne also had a grin.
“See,” Gwyndolynne she said, smirking at Folaji, “frost is better than fire…”
Folaji grumbled but didn’t respond. Instead he only let out a light squeek as a large chunk of burnt debris fell onto his head, knocking him out cold.
***
Rigimorty ducked as he heard a large balista arrow explode in mid-air. He then got back up and continued forward, not quite sure of where he was heading. Berenice had run off so fast that he was now lost deep behind enemy lines. Scared, he did his best to keep quiet; he had already seen today what an Alliance warrior could do to him, and he shuttered at the idea of what a group of them could do.
One small step and pause.
At each pause he listened for a sign from Berenice, yet he heard nothing but the clanging of swords and the grunts of soldiers in the distance.
Another small step and pause.
He suddenly felt something jerk him backwards and spin him around. He was relieved to find a familiar rotting face looking back at him.
“Come on, we have to go, now!” Berenice hastily whispered.
“What? Why? What about the explosives?”
“I’ve taken care of them, now come on!” she tugged once again.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I lit them okay, now lets get out of here before they blow us into pieces!”
“You did what!?”
By the time the words left Rigimorty’s mouth, Berenice had already turned her back and sprinted away. Filled with a sense of urgency, Rigimorty began to run as well.
It wasn’t long before the ground began to rumble, a large explosion knocking him to the ground. He turned onto his back and heard several more explosions as the Alliance explosives stockpile quickly became a large fireworks display. He got up and ran as fast as he could, hearing confusion and fear instill itself in the cries of the Alliance fighters.
Chapter 5 (part 2) – The Front Line
Jan 13th
Zuxana swung her sword horizontally, effectively separating a dwarf’s body from its head. She then turned to the right, stomped down on a fallen gnome and jumped to the air, slashing at a human paladin. The blade bounced down the human’s plate armor and found some flesh around her hips. The cut startled the paladin, and as she turned to face Zuxana, a blade came into her side, causing her body to go limp and drop to the ground.
Zuxana knew the blade very well, it belonged to the orc Kwandu, one of the great warriors in her guild. She quickly met his gaze, and turned her back to him. He did the same and moved his back against hers. Back to back, both talked while fighting off Alliance soldiers.
“How do things look from your end?” She asked, stabbing a human warrior in the arm.
“The explosions took everyone by surprise, things are a lot less certain now,” Kwandu’s gruffy orcish voice responded. He looked down at her leg. ”You’re hurt.”
“Nothing that can’t be taken care of latter,” she answered. “Any idea what caused the explosions?”
“The Rogues got caught while they were ganking the healers. As they fled, some saw Alliance soldiers putting explosives on the head of their ballista arrows,” he explained, sidestepping a large metal hammer, then slashing his sword diagonally.
“Do we know if there are many explosives left?” Zuxana asked.
“Yes,” answered Kwandu, “many…”
***
As a mage, Hallpass’ role in battles was quite simple: stay back and use ranged spells. The explosions, however, had changed the dynamic of the battle, and he was now fighting for his life.
A large, well-armored Night Elf was standing before him, grinning and wildly swinging his mace forward, each time missing the mage by a few inches. Surprised he was still in one piece, Hallpass hopped backwards and cast an ice spell, freezing the night elf’s feet in place. He then concentrated on the night elf’s weapon, increasing it’s temperature and making it fume and glow red.
Unable to bear the heat, the night elf let out a scream and dropped his weapon to the ground. He then pulled a small dagger out from under his armor, freed his legs and leapt forwards, hectically slashing at the undead mage. In return, Hallpass pulled out his own dagger, but was knocked to the ground before he could do anything with it.
As the night elf stood above Hallpass and readied his dagger for a killing blow, a large golden wildcat threw itself upon him. The night elf struggled to free himself from the beast, but was hit by an arrow in the arm, then another in the leg, and finally, a third one in his skull. His purple body went limp and fell forward onto Hallpass.
The mage felt his bones crunch and snap as the heavily armored night elf crushed his body. He was glad he was undead, since he hardly felt pain anymore, and struggled to free himself from the night elf’s heavy body, although he wasn’t nearly strong enough do to so. He was relieved when a large green hand suddenly grabbed hold of his neck and pulled him to his feet. The hand belonged to Varathron, and Orc Hunter and fellow member of the Razorwind Guild.
As Hallpass brushed himself off, he noticed a small dagger wielding gnome running up from behind the Orc. The gnome leapt into the air and let out a high-pitched scream which, although was meant to be intimidating, was actually quite amusing. The mage smiled and snapped his fingers, which caused a fireball to manifest itself around the gnome. The high-pitched war cry stopped, and the gnome’s roasted body instantly fell to the ground with a thud.
“Well, I guess we’re even now,” Hallpass said, looking down at the bodies of both the night elf and the gnome.
“Just stay back and do your caster thing cloth boy,” Varathron answered dryly.
The Orc turned his back to the mage and commanded his large wildcat, which he had named Momo, to attack an incoming female dwarf. With claws like butcher knives slashing at her, and an arrow fired by Varathron that was now whizzing to the side of her neck, the dwarf didn’t stand a chance.
Hallpass looked at the Orc with a grin.
That ungrateful…
His thoughts were interrupted by something he saw through the corner of his eye. At first he couldn’t quite make it out – his vision had deteriorated greatly when he had become undead – and by the time he recognized the shape of a ballista arrow, it was already to late.
Chapter 5 (part 1) – The Front Line
Jan 4th
“FOR THE HORDE!”
The battle cry echoed as hundreds of Orcs, Trolls, Tauren and Undead rushed out from Tarren Mill, a sight scary enough to give chills to even the best Alliance warriors. The Alliance, however, was strategically placed to the south of the Horde town and responded with a battle cry of their own. It wasn’t long before a line of Humans, Gnomes, Dwarves and Night Elves came rushing towards Tarren Mill.
The two advancing lines closed in onto each other, and collided with amazing violence. Swords clashed, hammers stomped and daggers poked, cutting flesh from all sides. As the ground slowly became saturated with blood, fire and ice rained down from the sky, singeing Horde and Alliance flesh alike.
From behind, mounted onto a large kodo and banging a large hollow drum, a female Tauren shouted orders to the Horde troops.
“Mmmpf! Casters target their fighters! Hunters, target their Mages and Locks and send your pets to the front line!”
A barrage of beasts of all shapes and sizes rushed the Alliance fighters, as arcs of ice and fire lit up the air. Arrows then wized southward through the air, striking at the Alliance’s casters. A few bodies fell to the ground, but most of them remained standing, the Alliance Priests healing them as best they could.
“Aorthek, take a handfull of Rogues with you and see if you can get those healers!” the tauren shouted.
“Yes Zuxana!” the undead Rogue answered.
He waved at two of his companions, who stepped back from the front line and headed towards some shrubs where they dissapeared into the foliage. Soon after a human priest dropped to the ground, and then another.
That’s the beauty and danger of a Rogue, Zuxana thought, you can never see them coming.
Although the battle wasn’t over, things were defenetely turning to the Horde’s advantage. Even without the promised reinforcements, who were scheduled to arrive any minute now, there were more Alliance bodies on the ground than Horde, and with the priests dropping like flies, the Horde line could take a chance and push forwards.
“Razorwind adva…”
Before Zuxana could finish her command, something crashed into the ground to her left. The crash was instantly followed by a large explosion, causing large chunks of dirt and rock to fly into the air and smash through Zuxana, who tumbled off her large kodo onto the bloody ground. Disoriented, the female Tauren warrior struggled to get to her feet while two more explosions went off around her.
Sharp pain filled her left leg as shrapnel sliced through her calf muscle. Ignoring the pain as best she could, Zuxana weakly pushed herself up onto her two feet and looked at the now changed landscape. Although moments earlier Horde forces had been pushing the Alliance back, the three large explosions, along with her interupted completed command, had caused confusion among the ranks of the Horde forces.
Some fighters were still fighting, yet some had turned around to see what had caused the explosions, and others to see if Zuxana was hurt. The Alliance line took advantage of the confusion and pushed forward, easily slicing and cleaving through distracted Horde fighters.
“Mmpf! Stand your ground!” Zuxana roared to her troops. As another explosion rocked the ground around her, she unsheethed a large fiery sword and ran towards the front lines.
This was going to be a tougher battle than she had expected.
***
From atop a ruined tower, Berenice and her friend looked down at the battle below.
“Did you see that Rigs?” She asked, as the second and third explosions rocked the Horde forces.
He didn’t answer.
“Looks like they’ve tied a bunch of explosives to the head of ballista arrows. The Horde don’t stand a chance…” She continued, ignoring his silence.
“That’s not my name,” he answered, frustrated.
“What?”
“You called me Rigs, that’s not my name,” he said bluntly.
“Well,” she looked at him, “what is your name?”
He though back at what seemed like an eternity ago, back to when he was destined for greatness, back when he was still human. He remembered what people had called him, though he also remembered how they had turned their back on him, spat on him and called him names after he had changed. No, he wasn’t the same person he had once been, his human self had died those many years ago along with its name.
“I…” he hesitated. “I don’t have a name…”
“Well then I’m giving you one: Rigimorty,” Berenice answered matter-of-factly. “Considering how stiff you were back by Hillsbrad, I’d say the name fits.”
A fourth explosion rumbled, bringing the pair’s attention back to the battlefield.
“We need to get down there and help them,” Berenice said.
Her skeletal companion tried to protest, but before he could open his mouth Berenice had already climbed down the tower and infiltrated the enemy lines. With no where else to go, and a weird sense of loyalty he had not felt for many years, he climbed down after her.
Rigimorty, he thought looking at his bony hands, I could learn to like it…
