Conquest of the Horde

Stormwind is my home. Nothing will change that. The seas of Northrend may make me feel free. The coasts of Tanaris may make me feel at ease. But nothing will ever keep me away from home. My heart is anchored in Stormwind. Yet, as much as I claim to be at home here, it never ceases to amaze me how little I know about the city. The scent of rich foods and exotic spices always waft down to my door from markets and feasts in other parts of the district, and yet I never go to investigate. At times it feels like all I know of home is this apartment, no matter how nice it is, and the docks, where I fish, only to toss away each catch. The druids would be proud.

Today I felt adventurous. The fishing had been lousy and I needed a distraction. I always have a healthy sum of gold burning a hole in my pocket, and my inner consumer beckoned me to the outskirts of the Trade District, where I wandered around the edge, gazing at the canals. I had abandoned my regal colored arm and my mighty greatsword for once, favoring a light tunic and slacks with a dagger strapped to my leg, under the leggings, for self defense. It was all very out of character for me.

What had once been an abandoned shop along the canals was now heavily decorated with gnomish decor and motifs. It didn't quite fit well next to the local enchanters shop and the Cheesecake Shoppe next door. Typically I avoid gnomish technology like The Plague, but curiosity got the better of me. I stepped inside and was instantly greeted the awful stench of burning phlogiston. I never tell gnomes that I hate the scent, since they swear up and down that it's supposed to be odorless. Maybe they just can't smell the fumes from down there. A stocky gnome with a balding scalp glared at me and instructed me to not 'break anything'. He was a little more colorful with his wording that I would like to write here.

A display in the far corner flaunted various widgets and devices which served me no real purpose. I eyed over the Gyrochronatoms, the Steam Tonks, Power Cores, and a few oddly phallic looking devices that a male gnome probably shouldn't be selling out in the open, and let my eyes fall onto a strange little device.

"That's the Gausswidget Photocamera B22-R. You break it you buy it." The gnome scowled up at me, holding a flintlock pistol in his hands, probably for self-defense. Or maybe he was just racist towards humans. I asked him with the 'B22-R' stood for and all I got in return was an icy glare. After scolding me for 'roughing it up with my big mongrel human paws', he instructed me on it's use and included an instructional guide on Photography, as well as a side package containing the various pieces of equipment I'd need to process each photo. He charged extra, naturally. It was all rather pricey and new to me, but on impulse, I purchased it all, ready to try it out. Worst case scenario, I suck at it and donate it all the local orphanage for their budding artists.

"Say Cheese." The gnome, Felix Gausswidget glared at me for the next ten seconds of exposure time.

Little prick.


The next page is blank.

I had been in Ratchet, handling my finances. While my time as Captain of the Frostbrand had allowed me to live a fairly comfortable life so long as I kept it extremely humble, taking up my new hobby was going to be a bit pricey in the long run. I had to do some readjustments with a goblin banker who, while a ruthless penny pusher, seemed to know his stuff. Ultimately we decided that to make sure I didn't wind up in the poor house, the rare odd-job wasn't going to kill me.

That's when I caught wind of some Darnassian soldiers requesting aid for an attack. Not much in way of pay, but who am I deny aid to members of the Alliance? More so when it involves crushing some orcs.



The group was far from sociable. The closest we had to any heavy weapons was a gnome with some explosives - not exactly reliable. These were Night Elves - where the hell are the damn Glaive Throwers? They wanted us to take down some caravans on an Orcish trade route. Why toss soldiers at that when you could of tossed literally three or four glaives at a caravan and it's kodo, from a fairly safe distance, and called it a day? Still, it gave me the chance for this little snapshot...


The bigger they are the harder they fall, bull-boy.

The first two attacks went smoothly. The third one was a little rocky. Then we got closer to the Crossroads than I would of wanted us to. That's when it all went to shit.

I was already having a bad day. Two tauren braves ganged up on me and managed to do a number, leaving deep cleaves in my chest and back. Nothing some healing and a whole lot of rest couldn't fix, but scars would be involved. Naturally however, things got worse. Four demolishers and a squad of orc hunters and warriors worse.


I don't like watching soldiers die. Not one bit. Yet these two idiots seemed intent on making sure that's what I'd be seeing today. When the Captain called for us to call back, these two stayed. They could of just fallen back like the rest of us and saved us some grief, but no. They seemed really dedicated to get killed by some orcs today. Amazingly, when screaming at them didn't do us any good, an archmage in our group managed to summon the entire squad away from the hotzone before our two elven friends in the picture got turned into purple smears on the barrens dirt.

I took my pay and got out of there. This wasn't a good mission to start my day off with. I wanted to come back out of my early retirement. Oh boy did I ever.


Time to find a portal out of here. I'm thinking Booty Bay.

Awkward

Booty Bay didn't happen. I've never been particularly good with portals. So what looks like a portal to Stormwind, turns out to be one to Shattrath.

Normally I'd be upset, but hey, an excuse for pictures.


This is actually my favorite picture, hands down. No contest. I gotta admit, the Naaru really are impressive - and the camera freaking loves them. I'm framing this.

It's an interesting city, but it's also a little disappointing. You would think after all this time they'd start fixing up the place a bit more, now that Illidan's dealt with. Perhaps Outland isn't as quiet as I thought. Still, with all these refugee's -still- around, I hope they have plans to aid them.

So after wandering through the Lower City, offering what I have to the beggars as they stop by me. I come across a nice little spot to get a picture of the Terokkar Forest canopy from and go to set up the shot.

Now I wasn't expecting to meet any familiar faces here, but clearly I need to learn to expect the unexpected, cause that's exactly what happened.


Annabelle. A 20 something girl who I've mostly only interacted with on random occasions. She's sweet. Good conversation. Though I can't help but feel a touch awkward around her. I've grown so used to speaking with soldiers and military folk.

The elf is 'Edriana'. I don't know why she's dressed like that. But I certainly didn't suggest she cover up either.

...I swear all this time in civilian life has caused me to lose my self-control. One woman in a skimpy outfit walks by and I start to sound a total creep without failure. Speaking of failure, what is with this guys hair?


She looked familiar, and I recalled working with her - or at least someone who looked like her, up in Northrend. Naturally, being a soldier at heart, I was eager to chat with a fellow warrior. She did indeed work with me, during the Vrykul Protodrake mission, and I was practically dying to catch up and maybe even swap stories.

Speaking of dying, I reminded her about how her hippogryph got devoured alive by said protodrake. Hippogryph's, being intelligent, sentient beings. Needless to say, she was less than happy to have those memories brought up.

Way to break it, hero.

I excused myself, since it was clear I've done more than enough damage tonight.

I really need to get out of this city.

The clash of steel against saronite. Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes against the mighty Vyrkul. The poisonous gases of the Forsaken, choking and stinging his lungs. The ground here had seen blood split over the years. The dirt was moist against his boots. The scent of the forest was saturated in every breath he took. It was hauntingly beautiful in a way.



"Well...this definitely tops the list for one of my more scenic battlegrounds." Clovis muttered to himself as his camera flashed brightly, catching a picture of the local area. Another addition to Clovis's collection. He had fought atop of a steam tank in this area, once. Hard to forget something like that.

The paladin packed up his equipment and moved on with his tour. It was a long and lonely journey. An ideal time to think back on old events, or consider his place in the world, or just simply contemplate his naval. But there would be naval gazing today. His tour was merely an excuse to keep his mind off something that had been nagging at him. His retirement was killing him.

"I'm too young for this." Clovis had already achieved a more than fair amount of things with his life at such a young age. He had been involved with the Northrend offensive, and even played a role in cleaning up the left-overs by leading the Frostbrand. He certainly had enough coin stashed away to life humbly for the next few decades, though not enough for a family. Regardless, he could of lived an idea bachelors lifestyle - and isn't that what any 30 something man wants?

Clovis kept his martial skills sharp during his tour, having hunted a few of the local beasts for food and sport. But he couldn't even recall the last time he had used the Light. The last time he had prayed, or meditated, or cast a simple healing spell. A part of him felt utter guilt, as if he had succumbed to hedonism. Could he even use the Light at this point when it had gone from such a pervasive aspect of his life to an after thought? Silly for him to think that, for it was the paladins own self doubt and guilt doing him in.

Night was closing in on him, and Clovis had found himself traveling alongside Mount Gjalerhorn (He had used so much phlegm trying to pronounce the place to himself that he just gave up and was content to call it "That mountain over there"). He had the supplies to set up camp and began to scale a nearby slope, hoping to find a cave to protect him from the elements over night. This would be a good time to process his camera film, fill his belly with meat and wine, read a good book...

<The harpoon sliced through the air silently. Clovis only knew of it's existence once he felt it pierce the platemail protecting his upper body, cutting into it, slashing through flesh, bone, and organ, before jutting out the other end of him.>

...Lose a kidney. The armor clad paladin collapsed as he scaled a slope, his supplies and greatsword being lost to gravity and falling away further down the mountain, his own body sliding several feet before coming to a dead stop. He had been critically wounded. A few broken ribs. Metal shrapnel in his gut. A kidney obliterated, poisoning his body. Clovis let a groan as he struggled to his feet, only able to crawl away with one hand while the other gripped at the handle of the harpoon jutting out of his back. Blood stained the snow, leaving a more than obvious trail to follow for the local predators.

Clovis removed his mask, tossing it aside as he searched for his attacker. It was futile of course. His sword was several hundreds yards away from him thanks to gravity. The harpoon punctured his armor like it was wet cardboard. The paladin struggled to cast a spell, but the Lights embrace didn't come. His mind was too muddled, his emotions too erratic. In the distance he could spot a vrykul warrior in the distance. Coming right at him.

"No...." Not like this. I won't go out like this. Not if I can help it. Clovis would of tried to say something with a little more 'oomph' to it, but he was kind of in crippling pain, and on the brink of shock. With adrenaline working for and against him, the paladin got to his feet, regardless of his body's protest, and fled further up the small crevices in the mountain side.


( This is my first post in a long time. Please provide feedback! )

His heart pounded, fluttering wildly in his chest. Sweat coated his flesh, which had developed a pallor as he struggled up the mountain side. His breathing was rapid. His head pounded like the horns of war were being blown inside his skull.

He also had a good two feet worth of harpoon jutting in and out of his abdomen. Adrenaline was his only painkiller, and he had overdosed.

His weapon gone. His faith impaired by overwhelming self doubt. His armor, useless. The rosy color in his cheeks gone. His lips curled into a pained snarl.

He then took a moment to stop, keel over, and vomit a mixture of blood and his previous lunch up.

'Notgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgoodnotgood-' Clovis flinched as he heard the deep, guttural laughter of the Vrykul warrior chasing after him. On a good day Clovis could take down one of them in a fair fight....if he had his weapon and hadn't let his spiritual resolve languish to a decadent (By his standards) retirement, and even then he'd need a little luck.

But in his current condition? Forget it.

The paladin's body experienced a second wind and he dragged himself further up the mountain, his muscles screaming in agony due to his current condition. The chill of the mountain was getting to him at this point. Nature was not on his side.

His attacker was closing in. They were almost in spitting distance.

"Mjul mottar agn sygar!" Clovis screamed out, pretty much spewing some random phrase he'd picked up from the Vyrkul during time in the Fjord. It sounded intimidating enough. He barely had the phlegm to speak it.

"NO ONE SPEAKS OF MY MOTHER THAT WAY!"

'Ohshitkeepclimbing.'


This was it. The end of the road. Clovis found himself at a dead end. A small camp had once been set up here. An old pelt lay on the ground. The remains of a tent. Old symbols had been etched into the ice with someones blade. Small slabs of ice lay strewn about. Clovis fell to his knees (Never a pleasant sensation when you wore a metal cassock) and crawled over to the pelt. He would have a few moments to rest before his killer was present.

"Light.....G-g-give..." Clovis stuttered and coughed, shivering as the chill of the mountain began to numb him. He felt tired. Very tired. This pelt was rather comfortable...

The paladin shook his head, grunting. 'Don't give in. Put up a fight.' Clovis looked around, trying to find something to use as an improvised weapon. He fiddled with some of the slabs of ice, wondering if any of them were sharp.

"No dice..." He groaned as he tossed several aside, looking back at the harpoon in him. Ever instinct cried out to remove it. 'It's a weapon. We need a weapon.' He knew the moment he took out he was subjecting himself to massive bloodloss and Light only knows what else, but what did he have to lose at this point? Inspecting the pointed end of the spear, he found the tip was indeed removable, allowing him to remove the rest of the harpoon without fear of causing further injury.

Not that having a gaping hole in your flank was any better.

Reattaching the point, he held the harpoon in one hand and an engraved slab of ice in the other. A potential distraction. The paladin almost lost himself in thought over the possibilities. Or was that the blood loss?

*Cough*





"So." Clovis stood up in a moment of defiance. "So many of your kind have fallen to my blade, and I'm to die here...to trash like you?" The paladin let out a cackle. "I think not." Clovis smirked at the lumbering bastard. "Your move, b***h boy." The paladin was almost taken back by his own foul language.

The warrior charged, ready to come down on Clovis with that great axe. The paladin, without his powers, and his armor sundered, was almost helpless. Preparing to stab the Vyrkul with his harpoon, he tossed the ice slab at his foes face just before beginning his own charge.

The slab connected with the warriors exposed chest and naturally he didn't stop charging - Clovis however, watched in awe as he observed the symbol on the ice glow, and then promptly shatter.

Everything went white.






( Will write more later...maybe later tonight. Maybe in a few days. We'll see. But first, comments on my writing? Concerns regarding the use of the rune? Anything I can fix? )