Divided Soul
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Divided Soul
by Ojana_DRS Mon Jun 14, 2010 7:43 pm
Heylo all :3 For those of you whom don't know me, due to RL situations I had to take a massive, and unexpected break from WoW (Homeless etc) However, I've been able to slowly get back on my feet, and I've been writing a little story recently, which I'd like to share with you all. It's about a character I'd like to make when I get to wow, called Galim. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it 
(And before any of you ask, yus, I got the inspiration from 'Of Blood and Honour' :3
Dun Morogh. Perhaps one of the coldest places in Azeroth, aside from Northrend Galim the Dwarf thought to himself as he wandered through the icy peaks. This was unlike his natural habitat, being a Wildhammer Dwarf and all; he wasn’t used to the cold winds and freezing snow. In fact, he wished he had worn more clothing than the meagre shoulder pads and shorts he now wore.
True, he was an imposing sight as any, with huge wrought iron shoulder pads on his shoulder, spiked for deadliness. The only other items of clothing he wore were patched and worn out green shorts and a pair of rugged leather boots. Across his back was a huge two-handed stone hammer, as large as himself, and he carried a one handed axe in his hand which had the dried blood of his fallen enemies on it. A belt held his shorts up, which had many pouches on all containing different things. The back ones were designated for food and water, the front ones were his luxuries – a set of dice made from bone, a pouch for his tobacco and pipe and the last one filled with a special powder that had magical qualities. His brown beard and moustache were long, full and well groomed; he took as much pride in his beard as every other Dwarf. His head was a bald as an egg, and the only thing he wore were a set of goggles over his eyes, made by an engineer that saved his life. The goggles had many settings such as thermal sight for both cold and hot, and night vision. Underneath he had bright blue sparkling eyes that pierced and looked through people. And as with every Dwarf he was a muscle bound hulk, nearly as wide as he was tall, and tattoos covered his arms and legs. Despite all this, he was still young, a tender age of sixty-seven.
All that extra muscle aided him now as he wandered across the plains on his scout mission. A Wildhammer he may be, he still served Ironforge, and they had sent him to scout out the nearby trolls and get a grasp on the situation. With his cunning and stealthy abilities, combined with his battle-prowess he was a perfect candidate for the mission. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was bloody cold and he blew onto his bare hands as he walked along, heading towards the location they had spoke of – a cave south of Gnomregan that the trolls had supposedly taken up residence.
The cave was in sight, and Galim instantly took up alert, slowing down and crouching as he approached to hide himself better. The ice trolls were used to this area, so they would know the area back to front, and the blue skin would enable them to hide better. He spied two guards about fifty metres from the cave entrance whom were rolling the bones. The gambling side pulled at him to go join in – while trolls were brutal murdering monsters they still played a good game, He ignored it. Ahm’ on a mission, canne’ get distracted now he thought to himself and took a tighter hold on his axe, and advanced slowly. Luckily, they had their backs to him, and he was downwind so their heightened sense of smell wouldn’t pick him out. Normally, he would have faced them in open honourable battle, but he didn’t want unnecessary risk against the pair, not with those axes they had lying next to them.
Slowly climbing the snow bank next to them he had a great vantage point. From here he could leap down from above and take out at least one of them in a single swipe. His legs tensed, and then he leapt.
Normally, a battle cry would have escaped his lips, but today he kept silent. The troll didn’t even realise that he was dead when Galim separated his head from his body, and as he landed he spun to swipe at the other troll. However, to the creatures credit it had grabbed its axe and turned to face Galim, grinning. “Come on Dwarf, I’ll have ya.” It sneered, running forwards swiping.
Galim smiled but didn’t reply and deflected the axe and swung his fist at the troll’s stomach, winding it and making it buckle. Taking advantage he swung his axe upwards, opening up a huge gash from the troll’s right hip to the left shoulder, making the creature drop to the floor in a flood of blood. As it gasped and breathed heavily Galim stood over it; regarding it with a face of contempt. “Stupid Dwarf, you have no honour.” It spat at Galim.
“Honour ain’ needed for creatures as low as ye.” He said simply, and then swiftly ended the trolls’ insults. Grunting in annoyance, he swiftly searched their bodies for anything useful but came up short. Hefting his axe once again Galim advanced into the cave.
Itwas surprisingly empty inside the cave, with only a few patrolling trolls at the entrance tunnels. Galim easily dispatched these wandering buffoons, taking them out swiftly and silently as they walked past his hiding places. He moved silently and with haste, making a mental map of the tunnels. As he neared the centre he found himself staring down at a huge cavern inside, with trolls roaming inside. He did a quick head count seven of em. Fack he thought then shuffled closer, keeping himself as hidden as best he could. Upon looking further in, there were several huts and sleeping rugs lying on the floor. Evidently, this clan was small and not much of a threat to the Dwarven race, but still a threat to the nearby Kharanos. If he didn’t eliminate them here and now then they might raid, and Dwarven lives could be lost.
Gripping his axe, he scouted the room again. The ledge he stood on hid him well from the trolls down below, and he had the advantage of
surprise. If he leapt down he could eliminate two, maybe three in an instant. That would leave him with four to deal with – much better odds. As he tensed his legs to jump he noticed something his eyes had skipped by; a cage near the back of the room that held a green prisoner. An Orc had been captured by the savage trolls and with the size if the Orc it amazed Galim how they had actually managed to capture him. He was a huge hulking beast, bigger than any Orc he had ever faced in battle, and the axe that was sat fifteen metres behind the cage was enormous, bigger than Galim himself.
The Orc looked enraged at the fact of being stuck in the iron cage. True, he could probably have bent the bars and escaped, but what was the
point if he was to be cut down instantly? An unarmed Orc wouldn’t stand a chance against seven armed trolls, no matter how strong he was. This threw a wrench in Galim’s problems though. The appearance of an Orc in Dun Morogh was worrying, why was he here and what did he want? Galim didn’t know, but he would worry about it when he had dispatched the trolls
Readying himself, Galim prayed for the gods to watch over him and then leapt, roaring a battle cry as he came down. The trolls seemed to move in slow motion as they turned and roared back. Before two of them could move he had cut them down in a second, his axe flashing across their chests at a frightening speed. The third he was aiming for had taken one step then had the axe buried in his back. The other four that were further way had leapt back roaring in horror and almost terror as the Dwarf rolled and ended up about five metres in front of the
cage.
Now they collected themselves and reached for their weapons, all of whom were wielding stone axes. One screeched loudly, the sound magnifying through the entire cavern and was unmistakeably a battle-cry. Galim cursed himself for not exploring the entire cave now and seeing just how big the clan was. Trolls appeared in seconds, coming from the tunnels all around added to the number. Now he faced fifteen
adversaries and stood no chance what so ever. He made his peace to the gods as he prepared himself for the oncoming battle.
A harsh guttural voice behind him spoke in fluent Dwarvish “Dwarf! Let me aid you!” It commanded, and Galim turned in disbelief to the Orc behind him.
Blinking slowly, Galim looked at the Orc, and then replied “You speak my language?”
“Ofcourse I do. Let me help you.” The Orc repeated once again, and wrapped his strong hands around thebars. “Throwmy axe to me.”
Galim didn’t know what to do. Here was his sworn enemy asking for an alliance in the face of the trolls. And yet it made sense; both of them would die on their own, but together they stood a chance. No doubt the Orc was a fearsome warrior and the two of them together would make a deadly team. Galim pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, and stared at the Orc with his piercing blue eyes. For a few moments they stared at each other, and then Galim winked to let the Orc know he would go along with it.
Roaring in rage he turned launched his axe at the nearest troll with such strength that it knocked the beast back into another. Before the
trolls knew what had happened however, Galim had leapt over the cage and was sprinting towards the back wall, where the Orcs axe was. The Orc had already bent the bars and snapped his chains, and was now standing out of the cage snarling and roaring as the trolls advanced.
Galim however had the axe and roared at the Orc as he threw it “Heads up lad!” and as the axe flew through the air the Orc crouched and used his powerful legs to leap high up, grab the twirling axe and land in the middle of the Troll group with such force it sent a small shock wave out knocking the closet three off their feet. The Orc however allowed no hesitation and was up, swinging the axe with such speed and skill
that it made Galim gasp in awe as he ran to aid the Orc.
Un-harnessing his massive two-handed stone hammer he leapt up as high as his stout legs would allow him and caved in the skull of a nearby troll, and then landed to smash the spine of another. The trolls had no idea how to react to the unlikely allies, and the Orc allowed to mistakes. Already he had cut down four of them, and was moving onto the next. It was an incredible display to watch; the Orc used the axe like it was an extended limb on his body, and his synergy and footwork were of another class. His speed and skill allowed him to cover all his
blind spots, and even though there were five of them surrounding himhe seemed to be the one at the advantage.
Galimhad three of his foes to deal with however; the trolls had got that much right in separating them so they couldn’t assist each other. Growling in annoyance he swung his mace in great deadly swings, coming ever so close to smashing ones face in. The trolls were fast and agile however, and even though he could wield this mace better than any man ever could, it was too slow for the swift trolls.
“Gonna cut you up little Dwarf.” The first troll sneered at him in Orcish. Galim had always been interested in the different languages and had learned as many has he could over the years.
“You gonna die little man!” The second jeered, stabbing at him with its axe.
“Nomercy, no mercy!” Camethe third.
Roaring a battle cry Galim leapt, surprising all three of them. As two jumped back, the third slipped backwards, allowing Galim to bury the maul in its face. As he landed the two roared and charged him, allowing their fury to over take common sense. They both ran straight into his mauls sweep and were sent crashing into the wall where they slid to the bottom dead.
Now Galim could assist the Orc, who had dispatched another troll in theprocess. The rest had formed a tight Square however, and were slowly trying to out manoeuvre the Orc. Not on my watch Galim thought, and he charged at a beast that was about to lunge at the Orc’s back. He swung up, and crashed his maul into the trolls jaw, smashing it and knocking him out. The distraction caused by the Dwarf made the others look away and that was all the Orc needed. Two swings of his massive axe and the trolls fell to the floor bleeding.
Finally their last adversary charged blindly at the pair swinging his axe everywhere. The Orc kept his cool, ducked to the right to dodge a
blow then swung his axe upwards one handed with his left hand, opening up the troll’s chest. Galim swung his mace downwards as it fell forwards, smashing its head into the ground and ending the battle quickly. Sighing in relief, the pair looked at each other, grinned and then sat down heavily on the cold floor next to each other, their weapons clattering by their sides.
Galim had a thousand questions to ask the Orc, but for the moment he had to make sure they were still allies for the time being. “Yae’ fought well lad, an ah’ guess I owe ye my thanks.” He said, looking at the Orc sideways.
Thankfully the Orc nodded in agreement “Aye. You’re not too bad yourself.” It answered, and then smiled “I’m surprised you helped me to be honest, seeing as most of our races hate each other.”
Galim considered this. “Aye, an I’m surprised yae’ asked to help me. Was expecting yae’ to throttle me from behin’.” He answered as he reached inside his pouch to pull out a pipe and some tobacco. Considering the Orc for a moment he turned to him “You smoke?”
The Orc nodded “A little, you offering?”
Galim nodded, and produced a spare pipe. “Always keep ah’ spare one just in case. Yae’ never know.” He said, smirking a little.
The Orc smiled and took the pipe, filled it with the tobacco and lit it, taking a deep puff. “Names Gorush, yours?”
“Galim Stonehammer.” He replied, lighting up the pipe and taking a deep puff himself. Chewing on the end a little as he thought he asked the Orc a question. “Now we’ve both established tha’ we ain’ gonna bash each others brains ou’, ah have ah’ question. What’re yae’ doin’ in Dun Morogh?”
Gorush grunted and looked down at the floor, holding the pipe in his hands. “Well, scouting really and watching Ironforges movements. We’ve had a lot of reports that you guys are mobilizing against us, and that you’re planning an attack on Hammerfall. And yes, we know you have been scouting Hammerfall, because we’ve seen your Dwarves there.” Gorush replied, grunting.
Galim knew that there had been scouts outside Hammerfall, and that there was a planned attack there, but he wasn’t going to let the Orc know that. Instead he played dumb and sucked on his pipe. “Don’ know what yae’ on about, ave’ heard nothing. So yae’ came here and got captured by tha’ trolls aye?” He asked.
Gorush nodded. “Bastards got me when I was asleep. All eighteen of em, sneaky shits.” He replied, spitting on the corpse of one nearby.
“They only got me two days ago, and I’ve only been here in Dun Morogh a week.” Now he looked at Galim “Why’ve you come here anyway? Bit mad taking on a whole clan of trolls by yourself.”
Galim laughed at this. “Thas’ why they sent me, cause ah’m a nutcase. In seriousness though, ah’ was just scouting too and was meant to report back on the troll situation. But ah’ got carried away, and got dragged into searching too much. An well ere’ ah am.”
The Orc chuckled to himself and for some time the pair just sat there, smoking the pipes and enjoying the tobacco. Both were wondering the
same thing however, where do we go from here? Galim couldn’t just let the Orc wander Dun Morogh, but on the other hand he had pretty much saved his life. And the Orc owed Galim his life too, because he could just have easily turned on him before he gave him his axe. Both were in a difficult position, and the answer wasn’t exactly clear.
It was Galim that spoke up first. “I’ve met a few decent Orcs in my time, an luckily ah’ can say yer one of them. But tha’ problem is mah’ race hate yer kind, and yers hate my kind. Ah there ain’ no way we can be friends, fack even acquaintances. By all means ah’ should be cutting yer down on the spot right ere’. But ah ain’, cause yer decent enough and wefought together. That sets us on some level ah’ don’t know what
is.” He said, confusion laced heavily in his voice.
Gorush nodded as he said that, then replied himself “I know what you mean. I’ve seen a lot of unnecessary bloodshed in my time, and I’m not about to attack somebody who saved me. Still, you are right in the fact we can’t be friends, but perhaps we can promise each other this; a truce whenever we see each other. If we ever are to meet again, then such we wouldn’t take arms up against each other, unless were both in the front lines. At that time, I would have to say, with great regret, that you would be my enemy,”
Galim considered the words. They all made sense; after all his people could never know of this truce they spoke of, and in a war scenario they
would have to cut each other down. Even though he wouldn’t want to, his people came first before one an honourable combatant. He nodded, “I must ask, how long do yae’ plan to stay in Dun Morogh? Ah can’t say that tha’ rest of me people will be as understandin’ as me.”
“I’ve gathered enough information and I’m going to head back tonight. I’ve stayed out here too long as it is, and after this scenario I
have no intention of staying any longer.” The Orc said. “Besides, it’s far too cold out here.”
Galim chuckled at that. He was really starting to like this Orc, who seemed to be more civilised than the usual berserker, even having a certain wit about him. A strange thought crossed Galim’s side, but he would actually be sad to see the Orc go. “In another time, and another place ah think we could ave become great friends, Gorush.” Galim said, smiling then standing up, slinging his maul over his back again and grabbing the axe from the dead troll.
Gorush stood up as well, taking his axe and hefting it across his back. “Aye, and perhaps if this war ever gets sorted out we could. I’m going to stay here and gather my things. Thanks once again for saving my life. Strength and Honour, Galim Stonehammer.” He said, and raised his fist to his heart.
Galim nodded, and did his own salute, stiffening his hand and raising it to his brow. “Strength and Honour Gorush, be safe.” He said, before turning and heading out of the tunnels, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. We will meet again one day lad, have no fear he thought to himself, as he exited the cave and started his journey back to Ironforge.
(And before any of you ask, yus, I got the inspiration from 'Of Blood and Honour' :3Chapter 1: An Unlikely Alliance
Dun Morogh. Perhaps one of the coldest places in Azeroth, aside from Northrend Galim the Dwarf thought to himself as he wandered through the icy peaks. This was unlike his natural habitat, being a Wildhammer Dwarf and all; he wasn’t used to the cold winds and freezing snow. In fact, he wished he had worn more clothing than the meagre shoulder pads and shorts he now wore.
True, he was an imposing sight as any, with huge wrought iron shoulder pads on his shoulder, spiked for deadliness. The only other items of clothing he wore were patched and worn out green shorts and a pair of rugged leather boots. Across his back was a huge two-handed stone hammer, as large as himself, and he carried a one handed axe in his hand which had the dried blood of his fallen enemies on it. A belt held his shorts up, which had many pouches on all containing different things. The back ones were designated for food and water, the front ones were his luxuries – a set of dice made from bone, a pouch for his tobacco and pipe and the last one filled with a special powder that had magical qualities. His brown beard and moustache were long, full and well groomed; he took as much pride in his beard as every other Dwarf. His head was a bald as an egg, and the only thing he wore were a set of goggles over his eyes, made by an engineer that saved his life. The goggles had many settings such as thermal sight for both cold and hot, and night vision. Underneath he had bright blue sparkling eyes that pierced and looked through people. And as with every Dwarf he was a muscle bound hulk, nearly as wide as he was tall, and tattoos covered his arms and legs. Despite all this, he was still young, a tender age of sixty-seven.
All that extra muscle aided him now as he wandered across the plains on his scout mission. A Wildhammer he may be, he still served Ironforge, and they had sent him to scout out the nearby trolls and get a grasp on the situation. With his cunning and stealthy abilities, combined with his battle-prowess he was a perfect candidate for the mission. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was bloody cold and he blew onto his bare hands as he walked along, heading towards the location they had spoke of – a cave south of Gnomregan that the trolls had supposedly taken up residence.
The cave was in sight, and Galim instantly took up alert, slowing down and crouching as he approached to hide himself better. The ice trolls were used to this area, so they would know the area back to front, and the blue skin would enable them to hide better. He spied two guards about fifty metres from the cave entrance whom were rolling the bones. The gambling side pulled at him to go join in – while trolls were brutal murdering monsters they still played a good game, He ignored it. Ahm’ on a mission, canne’ get distracted now he thought to himself and took a tighter hold on his axe, and advanced slowly. Luckily, they had their backs to him, and he was downwind so their heightened sense of smell wouldn’t pick him out. Normally, he would have faced them in open honourable battle, but he didn’t want unnecessary risk against the pair, not with those axes they had lying next to them.
Slowly climbing the snow bank next to them he had a great vantage point. From here he could leap down from above and take out at least one of them in a single swipe. His legs tensed, and then he leapt.
Normally, a battle cry would have escaped his lips, but today he kept silent. The troll didn’t even realise that he was dead when Galim separated his head from his body, and as he landed he spun to swipe at the other troll. However, to the creatures credit it had grabbed its axe and turned to face Galim, grinning. “Come on Dwarf, I’ll have ya.” It sneered, running forwards swiping.
Galim smiled but didn’t reply and deflected the axe and swung his fist at the troll’s stomach, winding it and making it buckle. Taking advantage he swung his axe upwards, opening up a huge gash from the troll’s right hip to the left shoulder, making the creature drop to the floor in a flood of blood. As it gasped and breathed heavily Galim stood over it; regarding it with a face of contempt. “Stupid Dwarf, you have no honour.” It spat at Galim.
“Honour ain’ needed for creatures as low as ye.” He said simply, and then swiftly ended the trolls’ insults. Grunting in annoyance, he swiftly searched their bodies for anything useful but came up short. Hefting his axe once again Galim advanced into the cave.
Itwas surprisingly empty inside the cave, with only a few patrolling trolls at the entrance tunnels. Galim easily dispatched these wandering buffoons, taking them out swiftly and silently as they walked past his hiding places. He moved silently and with haste, making a mental map of the tunnels. As he neared the centre he found himself staring down at a huge cavern inside, with trolls roaming inside. He did a quick head count seven of em. Fack he thought then shuffled closer, keeping himself as hidden as best he could. Upon looking further in, there were several huts and sleeping rugs lying on the floor. Evidently, this clan was small and not much of a threat to the Dwarven race, but still a threat to the nearby Kharanos. If he didn’t eliminate them here and now then they might raid, and Dwarven lives could be lost.
Gripping his axe, he scouted the room again. The ledge he stood on hid him well from the trolls down below, and he had the advantage of
surprise. If he leapt down he could eliminate two, maybe three in an instant. That would leave him with four to deal with – much better odds. As he tensed his legs to jump he noticed something his eyes had skipped by; a cage near the back of the room that held a green prisoner. An Orc had been captured by the savage trolls and with the size if the Orc it amazed Galim how they had actually managed to capture him. He was a huge hulking beast, bigger than any Orc he had ever faced in battle, and the axe that was sat fifteen metres behind the cage was enormous, bigger than Galim himself.
The Orc looked enraged at the fact of being stuck in the iron cage. True, he could probably have bent the bars and escaped, but what was the
point if he was to be cut down instantly? An unarmed Orc wouldn’t stand a chance against seven armed trolls, no matter how strong he was. This threw a wrench in Galim’s problems though. The appearance of an Orc in Dun Morogh was worrying, why was he here and what did he want? Galim didn’t know, but he would worry about it when he had dispatched the trolls
Readying himself, Galim prayed for the gods to watch over him and then leapt, roaring a battle cry as he came down. The trolls seemed to move in slow motion as they turned and roared back. Before two of them could move he had cut them down in a second, his axe flashing across their chests at a frightening speed. The third he was aiming for had taken one step then had the axe buried in his back. The other four that were further way had leapt back roaring in horror and almost terror as the Dwarf rolled and ended up about five metres in front of the
cage.
Now they collected themselves and reached for their weapons, all of whom were wielding stone axes. One screeched loudly, the sound magnifying through the entire cavern and was unmistakeably a battle-cry. Galim cursed himself for not exploring the entire cave now and seeing just how big the clan was. Trolls appeared in seconds, coming from the tunnels all around added to the number. Now he faced fifteen
adversaries and stood no chance what so ever. He made his peace to the gods as he prepared himself for the oncoming battle.
A harsh guttural voice behind him spoke in fluent Dwarvish “Dwarf! Let me aid you!” It commanded, and Galim turned in disbelief to the Orc behind him.
Blinking slowly, Galim looked at the Orc, and then replied “You speak my language?”
“Ofcourse I do. Let me help you.” The Orc repeated once again, and wrapped his strong hands around thebars. “Throwmy axe to me.”
Galim didn’t know what to do. Here was his sworn enemy asking for an alliance in the face of the trolls. And yet it made sense; both of them would die on their own, but together they stood a chance. No doubt the Orc was a fearsome warrior and the two of them together would make a deadly team. Galim pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, and stared at the Orc with his piercing blue eyes. For a few moments they stared at each other, and then Galim winked to let the Orc know he would go along with it.
Roaring in rage he turned launched his axe at the nearest troll with such strength that it knocked the beast back into another. Before the
trolls knew what had happened however, Galim had leapt over the cage and was sprinting towards the back wall, where the Orcs axe was. The Orc had already bent the bars and snapped his chains, and was now standing out of the cage snarling and roaring as the trolls advanced.
Galim however had the axe and roared at the Orc as he threw it “Heads up lad!” and as the axe flew through the air the Orc crouched and used his powerful legs to leap high up, grab the twirling axe and land in the middle of the Troll group with such force it sent a small shock wave out knocking the closet three off their feet. The Orc however allowed no hesitation and was up, swinging the axe with such speed and skill
that it made Galim gasp in awe as he ran to aid the Orc.
Un-harnessing his massive two-handed stone hammer he leapt up as high as his stout legs would allow him and caved in the skull of a nearby troll, and then landed to smash the spine of another. The trolls had no idea how to react to the unlikely allies, and the Orc allowed to mistakes. Already he had cut down four of them, and was moving onto the next. It was an incredible display to watch; the Orc used the axe like it was an extended limb on his body, and his synergy and footwork were of another class. His speed and skill allowed him to cover all his
blind spots, and even though there were five of them surrounding himhe seemed to be the one at the advantage.
Galimhad three of his foes to deal with however; the trolls had got that much right in separating them so they couldn’t assist each other. Growling in annoyance he swung his mace in great deadly swings, coming ever so close to smashing ones face in. The trolls were fast and agile however, and even though he could wield this mace better than any man ever could, it was too slow for the swift trolls.
“Gonna cut you up little Dwarf.” The first troll sneered at him in Orcish. Galim had always been interested in the different languages and had learned as many has he could over the years.
“You gonna die little man!” The second jeered, stabbing at him with its axe.
“Nomercy, no mercy!” Camethe third.
Roaring a battle cry Galim leapt, surprising all three of them. As two jumped back, the third slipped backwards, allowing Galim to bury the maul in its face. As he landed the two roared and charged him, allowing their fury to over take common sense. They both ran straight into his mauls sweep and were sent crashing into the wall where they slid to the bottom dead.
Now Galim could assist the Orc, who had dispatched another troll in theprocess. The rest had formed a tight Square however, and were slowly trying to out manoeuvre the Orc. Not on my watch Galim thought, and he charged at a beast that was about to lunge at the Orc’s back. He swung up, and crashed his maul into the trolls jaw, smashing it and knocking him out. The distraction caused by the Dwarf made the others look away and that was all the Orc needed. Two swings of his massive axe and the trolls fell to the floor bleeding.
Finally their last adversary charged blindly at the pair swinging his axe everywhere. The Orc kept his cool, ducked to the right to dodge a
blow then swung his axe upwards one handed with his left hand, opening up the troll’s chest. Galim swung his mace downwards as it fell forwards, smashing its head into the ground and ending the battle quickly. Sighing in relief, the pair looked at each other, grinned and then sat down heavily on the cold floor next to each other, their weapons clattering by their sides.
Galim had a thousand questions to ask the Orc, but for the moment he had to make sure they were still allies for the time being. “Yae’ fought well lad, an ah’ guess I owe ye my thanks.” He said, looking at the Orc sideways.
Thankfully the Orc nodded in agreement “Aye. You’re not too bad yourself.” It answered, and then smiled “I’m surprised you helped me to be honest, seeing as most of our races hate each other.”
Galim considered this. “Aye, an I’m surprised yae’ asked to help me. Was expecting yae’ to throttle me from behin’.” He answered as he reached inside his pouch to pull out a pipe and some tobacco. Considering the Orc for a moment he turned to him “You smoke?”
The Orc nodded “A little, you offering?”
Galim nodded, and produced a spare pipe. “Always keep ah’ spare one just in case. Yae’ never know.” He said, smirking a little.
The Orc smiled and took the pipe, filled it with the tobacco and lit it, taking a deep puff. “Names Gorush, yours?”
“Galim Stonehammer.” He replied, lighting up the pipe and taking a deep puff himself. Chewing on the end a little as he thought he asked the Orc a question. “Now we’ve both established tha’ we ain’ gonna bash each others brains ou’, ah have ah’ question. What’re yae’ doin’ in Dun Morogh?”
Gorush grunted and looked down at the floor, holding the pipe in his hands. “Well, scouting really and watching Ironforges movements. We’ve had a lot of reports that you guys are mobilizing against us, and that you’re planning an attack on Hammerfall. And yes, we know you have been scouting Hammerfall, because we’ve seen your Dwarves there.” Gorush replied, grunting.
Galim knew that there had been scouts outside Hammerfall, and that there was a planned attack there, but he wasn’t going to let the Orc know that. Instead he played dumb and sucked on his pipe. “Don’ know what yae’ on about, ave’ heard nothing. So yae’ came here and got captured by tha’ trolls aye?” He asked.
Gorush nodded. “Bastards got me when I was asleep. All eighteen of em, sneaky shits.” He replied, spitting on the corpse of one nearby.
“They only got me two days ago, and I’ve only been here in Dun Morogh a week.” Now he looked at Galim “Why’ve you come here anyway? Bit mad taking on a whole clan of trolls by yourself.”
Galim laughed at this. “Thas’ why they sent me, cause ah’m a nutcase. In seriousness though, ah’ was just scouting too and was meant to report back on the troll situation. But ah’ got carried away, and got dragged into searching too much. An well ere’ ah am.”
The Orc chuckled to himself and for some time the pair just sat there, smoking the pipes and enjoying the tobacco. Both were wondering the
same thing however, where do we go from here? Galim couldn’t just let the Orc wander Dun Morogh, but on the other hand he had pretty much saved his life. And the Orc owed Galim his life too, because he could just have easily turned on him before he gave him his axe. Both were in a difficult position, and the answer wasn’t exactly clear.
It was Galim that spoke up first. “I’ve met a few decent Orcs in my time, an luckily ah’ can say yer one of them. But tha’ problem is mah’ race hate yer kind, and yers hate my kind. Ah there ain’ no way we can be friends, fack even acquaintances. By all means ah’ should be cutting yer down on the spot right ere’. But ah ain’, cause yer decent enough and wefought together. That sets us on some level ah’ don’t know what
is.” He said, confusion laced heavily in his voice.
Gorush nodded as he said that, then replied himself “I know what you mean. I’ve seen a lot of unnecessary bloodshed in my time, and I’m not about to attack somebody who saved me. Still, you are right in the fact we can’t be friends, but perhaps we can promise each other this; a truce whenever we see each other. If we ever are to meet again, then such we wouldn’t take arms up against each other, unless were both in the front lines. At that time, I would have to say, with great regret, that you would be my enemy,”
Galim considered the words. They all made sense; after all his people could never know of this truce they spoke of, and in a war scenario they
would have to cut each other down. Even though he wouldn’t want to, his people came first before one an honourable combatant. He nodded, “I must ask, how long do yae’ plan to stay in Dun Morogh? Ah can’t say that tha’ rest of me people will be as understandin’ as me.”
“I’ve gathered enough information and I’m going to head back tonight. I’ve stayed out here too long as it is, and after this scenario I
have no intention of staying any longer.” The Orc said. “Besides, it’s far too cold out here.”
Galim chuckled at that. He was really starting to like this Orc, who seemed to be more civilised than the usual berserker, even having a certain wit about him. A strange thought crossed Galim’s side, but he would actually be sad to see the Orc go. “In another time, and another place ah think we could ave become great friends, Gorush.” Galim said, smiling then standing up, slinging his maul over his back again and grabbing the axe from the dead troll.
Gorush stood up as well, taking his axe and hefting it across his back. “Aye, and perhaps if this war ever gets sorted out we could. I’m going to stay here and gather my things. Thanks once again for saving my life. Strength and Honour, Galim Stonehammer.” He said, and raised his fist to his heart.
Galim nodded, and did his own salute, stiffening his hand and raising it to his brow. “Strength and Honour Gorush, be safe.” He said, before turning and heading out of the tunnels, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. We will meet again one day lad, have no fear he thought to himself, as he exited the cave and started his journey back to Ironforge.
Ojana_DRS- Posts : 33
Join date : 2010-06-10
Age : 33
Location : England baby
Re: Divided Soul
by Ojana_DRS Thu Jun 17, 2010 5:47 pm
Chapter 2: What’s Occurring?
The trek back to Ironforge was not only a short one, but one full of thoughts that crossed Galim’s mind – which was whirring like the cogs on a gnomish machine. This is impossible. Ah must ave’ dreamt ii all there’s nae’ way that happened he tried convincing himself, but he knew he was being stupid. It was impossible to dream something like that; Gorush was real that much was for sure. They had fought with each other and eradicated a tribe
of trolls, and not only that, but saved each others lives at the same time. Then they had sat down, smoked and talked with each other, like civilized people, and discussed where they would go from there. It was crazy to think of, but that’s what had happened, and Galim really had no idea where this would go from here onwards. Gorush had seemed true to his word about leaving, and Galim actually believed him, unless the Orc had no honour whatsoever, but one of his skill and battle-prowess, it seemed unlikely.
So absorbed in his thoughts was he, that he didn’t even realise that he had made it to Kharanos in what was only a few scant hours. Smiling to himself, he left his heavy thoughts for a while, and headed into the familiar, and much loved inn there, where he could rest up before he headed back to Ironforge. He was ahead of time too, so he could grab a beer inside.
Kharanos was famous for its beer, and one of the best pints in Azeroth could be bought in here. Galim was known as a local here, and as such the barman hailed him as he entered, filling him up a pint of the best before he had even reached the bar. Smiling to himself he nodded his thanks and swiftly paid up his fee, he was no beggar and always paid his way in life. Looking round the bar, he spotted a familiar wolf sitting alone at a table. In fact it was very familiar, far too familiar. The wolf was called Fang, and the pet of a good friend of his, somebody who was a sneaky little number.
As the thought crossed his mind he felt a cold blade against his throat. “I think tha’ is thirty odd times ah have got yae’ now.” A female’s voice whispered in his ear.
Galim chuckled. “Never fail to get me each time, alright’ Ojana?”
The sword withdrew from his neck and he turned on the spot to see perhaps one of the most beautiful Dwarven women that existed in his race. She had a full, lean curved body and was no less than two inches shorter than him. Her gorgeous jet black silky hair was done up in a stylish bun held with two chopsticks. Soft-skinned freckled face with sparkling green eyes and she wore a night-black leather outfit that allowed maximum comfort and movement. A one-handed axe hung from her waist, a tempered steel sword in her hand and a sniper rifle slung across her back finished her outfit. The thing that made her utterly beautiful to her race and hideously disgusting to other races was her full, black and perfectly trimmed beard. It utterly destroyed Galim’s beard in size, thickness and colour. It went down the middle of her chest, and it seemed to gleam.
Galim smirked and swiftly hugged his friend as she embraced him. “Good tae’ see you lass, been ah’ long time?”
She shrugged lightly “Alrigh’ ah spose.” She replied in her deep luscious voice “what bout yae’?”
“Ah’m alright. Here an there, all tha’.”
Chuckling walked over to the table “Come sit down.” She said, patting the seat next to her.Galimnodded and grabbed his beer, sitting down heavily next to the hunter. He pulled his goggles off and let them rest on his bald head as he took a deep draught from his tankard. Ojana was smiling softly as she watched him and he noticed this, although it made him splutter on his beer. Wiping his face he turned to a laughing Ojana. “What’re
yae’ laughing about.” He said, smiling.
“You, yae’ daft oaf, honestly where did yae learn manners?”
“Ah’ didn’t” He replied, chuckling. Leaning back in his chair he looked at Ojana pointedly “Yae’ been gone for a long time lass. What made yae come back?”
“Been away fur’ too long, feeling homesick” she answered, picking at some ribs that she had eaten earlier. Scratching Fang’s head she said “So did this one.”
Galim smirked. “So where’d yae get to in yer travels? You explore all o’ tha’ Eastern Kingdoms?”
Ojana nodded “Aye, I’ve done it all now. Seen everything there is tae’ see over ere’. Such amazing sights ah seen, ah got mah fair share of kill’s tae.”
She finished, smirking slightly.
Galim chuckled at this. “Good, good lass, thas what ah like tae’ see.” He drained his tank, burped loudly and the gathered himself as he stood up.
Ojana frowned at him “Where are yae’ going?”
Galim grabbed his axe and looked down at her “Gotta head back to Ironforge. Ah need tae’ file ah report on some scoutin’ ah did earlier. You fancy comin’ with?” He offered, holding his hand out for her.
Nodding Ojana took his hand and pulled herself up, sheathing her sword behind her back and grabbing her rifle which she checked was loaded. Whistling at Fang they headed outside the inn into the cold fresh air again. “How long you reckon till we get there?” She asked.
Galim shrugged. “Coupla hours?”
Ojana nodded and smiled. "Then lets get to it lad." She answered, as the pair of them broke into a jog, heading towards the massive citidal that was Ironforge, the peak of Dwarven society and craftsmenship.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Gorush had spent a long time gathering his things and searching the trolls after Galim had left, mainly to brood other what had happened. All of the food he had on him when he had been captured had been eaten by the trolls, but luckily they had left the most important things such as his map and compass untouched. Probably because they had no idea how to use the items and they meant little to the uneducated trolls. Besides his spare pair of shorts the only other thing left untouched was his lock pick set, another thing the trolls wouldn’t be able to understand the use of. As he slowly walked around the cave, he gathered up some simple rations from the trolls, stowing them away in the sack that was now tied to his waist. The rations were simple and nasty being a combination of hardened dried fruit in syrup, slightly old salted meat and some animal skin sacks containing water. When he
was satisfied that he had searched the entire cave and taken anything of use, he hefted his axe and walked slowly out of the naturally carved caves.
The bright sunshine hurt the Orcs eyes after so long in the dark with only candle light, and he had to shield his eyes for a moment so that
he could adjust. After only a moment he could finally look around and take in the landscape around him – which was actually very beautiful. The sun was high in the sky, and its light seemed to radiate everywhere, touching and illuminating the frozen crystals on the ground. The effect it had made the surface of the snow gleam like diamonds and for a moment the gnarled warrior just stood and looked, his eyes hungrily taking the view in.
The harsh cold bit him however, snapping him from his daydream and bringing him back to reality. Shouldering his axe he began the long trek back towards Strangle thorn Vale. It would take him a week or so but luckily time was on his side, as Thrall wasn’t expecting him back soon. The problem however, was getting out of Dun Morogh without being detected, a challenge in itself. He had managed to sneak in easily enough but that was because he had come down one of the mountain sides, which was much safer than climbing up. With that scenario out of the question, that left him with one option – the heavily guarded mountain path.
Big problem however, because heavily guarded meant heavily guarded. Having already observed it on the way through he knew that at any time of the day there were a minimum of seven guards either side. Even Gorush with his skill in battle wouldn’t want to face seven heavily-armoured hardened Dwarven veterans. This left him with a huge gaping problem – how in Hellscreams name do I get out of here? There literally was no other way. He grunted in annoyance at the problem before him, but figured he would cross that river when he got to it, and headed towards the general direction of the pass.
After just two hours he ran into major trouble, the kind that would have got him killed. Having taken the long route around Kharanos, through
the deep snow and across the slippery ice lakes he had found himself slap bang in the middle of a Ironforge patrol. Luckily, he had dropped to his knees so fast, they hadn’t seen him and they now stood not even fifteen feet in front of him. The snow was deep, so they couldn’t see him from the angle they were at, but all they had to do was take a few steps closer and his green hide would be spotted in an instant. Cursing in his head he lay there for a while,
listening to the conversation.
“Roigh’. Listen up lads an’ lasses.” A Dwarf who was obviously the captain said to the group. His glistening steel armour with a gold trim and he held a sharp looking axe in one hand, a shield in the other. “Traditional scoutin’ mission; spread out an’ recon. This is a typical scoutin’ mission so yae’ better get used tae’ it. Find anythin’ unimportant yell at meh! Move out!” He ordered, and the group of eight Dwarves spread out – one coming straight towards Gorush.
Recruits, soldiers in training, fresh blood whatever they would call them these were inexperienced soldiers. Only the captain would prove a problem,
but Gorush seriously wasn’t in the mood for another fight so quickly after the last one. Even though he reckoned these were new recruits, the ones holding guns evidently had some skill – and in the heat of battle, inexperienced people could prove to be the deadliest opponents because they were so unpredictable. However, he had little time to think, as the Dwarf in front of him was drawing ever closer. Surrender or Fight? Those were his options. Both carried the risk of death, but his mission specifically said not to kill any Dwarfs. Reasoning perhaps? Grunting once more in annoyance, Gorush
sprung to his feet, holding his hands out empty – a sign of peace.
The Dwarf, bless his stout heart, practically jumped out of his skin as Gorush jumped up in front of him, then roared towards the group “ORC! CAPN’! AV’HE FOUND AN ORC!” Roaring he held his mace up in front of him, the tiny tins shield protecting him a little.
Within seconds the Captain was next to the Dwarf, and the rest of the group had surrounded him. There was no chance of fighting now, so Gorush simply kept his hands where they could see them.
“By tha’ Aerie… Orc filth! Yae’ come here tae’ start ah’ war?” The captain yelled at Gorush.
Shaking his head he spoke back in Dwarvish “No. I’m here on a scouting mission from Orgrimmar.”
“Scoutin’? Pah! That’s just any excuse tae’ start ah’ war.” However the captain seemed surprised that he spoke Dwarvish, and considered him for a second “Yae’ speak our language, yae’ jump up with no weapon in yer hand and surrender.” Grunting the captain took a step closer. “Yer make no sense. Yae’ here tae’ sightsee or somthin’?” He said, laughing a little.
Smirking Gorush replied “If only. I was out at the caves near Gnomregan, checking out these trolls that had been reported to be living out here. I ended up being attacked by them, and if it wasn’t for one of your Dwarves, I’d be dead by now.”
Now the captain positively exploded with laughter. “Yae’ serious? Ah’ Dwarf saved yer life did ee’? Well, there’s only been one Dwarf headed out tae’ those caves in tha’ last day or two. If yae’ tell me his name, ah’l believe yer.” He said with a smug impression that he had the Orc cornered now.
Gorush nodded “Of course. Galim Stonehammer.” He replied, realising he had just dropped Galim right in a mess.
The captains eyes widened in surprise “Well. This is very interesting. Roigh’, arrest him an’ bring him tae’ Ironforge. We gotta’ question this one. Ah’m hoping yae’ll come quietly?” The captain said, touching the edge of his axe gently as a warning.
In response, Gorush held his hands out, and allowed the Dwarves to clasp him in irons. He expected them to be rough and uncaring with him, kicking and shoving but they were surprisingly gentle. He tested the irons strength, and found that as with all Dwarven metalwork they were expertly built, probably to withstand his own kind’s strength. Perhaps if he was enraged he could snap them, but what was the point of that? He had surrendered peacefully, and even if he did die – at least he would get to see the Dwarves grand city – the pinnacle of craftsmanship. The rest of the group picked up his axe and sack, and they set off.
As they headed up the slope, the mountain guards saluted the captain when he passed, and threw Gorush dirty looks while they applauded the group. Evidently they thought there would be a public execution; something that was always enjoyable Gorush had to admit. Even in both races, they still enjoyed the basic primal pleasures or victory and slaughtering their sworn enemy.
The gates of Ironforge will forever be in my memory Gorush thought as they walked through the huge gates. It was an incredible sight to behold, and put his entire races building abilities to shame. He actually stopped for a second just to marvel at the Dwarf statue that had to be one hundred metres tall. The captain was staring at him, and when he looked down at him the veteran was smiling.
“It’s impressive isn’t it? We Dwarves take pride in our craftsmen ship. Nice tae’ see ah beast such as yerself can appreciate it.” The old warrior said, walking over to Gorush, standing next to him.
Gorush was overwhelmed “How long did it take? Why on Azeroth build something so big? These gates are massive?”
The captain shrugged “Because we can?” He said, smirking. “Let’s move!” He ordered, and walked ahead once again, leaving Gorush to stare in wonder once again, as they rounded the statue and into the main city. The buildings were all built into the rocky mountain, and this area was a massive hubbub of activity. Dwarves holding pickaxes, hammers, books, bread, metals and everything else were running everywhere. Gnomes were all over the place too, the tiny people Gorush had only seen a handful in his life. They all seemed to ignore his presence; in fact hardly any paid any attention to him whatsoever.
The group carried on through, unhindered by the crowd. A tiny gnome with pink hair ran up to the group and stared in awe at Gorush – the small man hardly came up to his knee. “You’re an Orc aren’t you? Gosh you are tall! My master says you people eat Dwarves! Is that true mister Orc?” The inquisitive gnome said, walking backwards just to look at the Orc.
Gorush had to laugh. This one was obviously a curious one, but then again wasn’t the whole race of Gnomes curious? They were after all master engineers, at least on par with Goblins. He shook his head and began to answer, but another Gnome came running over on a mechanostrider. “Andre get away from the Orc! What have I told you about them? You don’t want to be eaten do you?” He said gruffly, glared at Gorush then walked away. The little Gnome named Andre waved sadly at Gorush then ran after the mechanostrider.
After that, there was little mishap as the group arrived at the Military ward, which was evidently where the cells were. The captain turned to the group at this point “Put him in tha’ cells. I’ll be back soon tae’ talk more Orc. First ah’ gotta find Galim, and find out exactly why yae’ know him.” He said darkly, and then walked off to another part of the great city.
With the captain gone, the attitude of the Dwarves seemed to change a lot. All of them had dark looks on their faces, and the pushes turned into hard shoves. It was to be expected, they had probably all lost family or friends during the war, but had he not proved that he was different, or at least could be different? He kept silent until they had locked him up, and as he sat down on the stone seat that stuck out from the wall he sighed heavily. Now the waiting game began.
Ojana_DRS- Posts : 33
Join date : 2010-06-10
Age : 33
Location : England baby
Shaelyssa- Posts : 4926
Join date : 2010-02-24
Character sheet
Name: Shaelyssa Bladesinger
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Whiston Farley- Posts : 219
Join date : 2010-01-31
Age : 35
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Character sheet
Name: Whiston Farley
Title: The Hound Master - Watcher of Sacred Ground
Re: Divided Soul
by Ojana_DRS Mon Jun 21, 2010 5:08 pm
Thank you two for ze kind words Heres Chapter three and its longer than the others. Hope you all enjoy it and Girloy this is your bit! I hope you like it :/
breakneck speeds that had never before been achieved by man, Dwarf or Elf; it was a piece of work that truly displayed the genius and wonder of the Gnomes. The tunnels themselves were several hundred meters deep underground, and had been bored out by massive drilling machines the Gnomes had constructed. The science behind it was staggering, and to the uneducated mind one would have thought it was created by a special kind of magic that nobody but Gnomes could comprehend.
The carriages themselves carried up to eight people, and the train ran off ‘Electricity’, which allowed it to reach speeds of up to eighty miles an hour. The fastest speed that had ever been recorded had been by dragons, and even those could only reach around sixty. This was a creation that was setting Azeroth into a new age of technology, something that a lot of people feared.
Still, the Dwarf that patrolled the trains back and forth every night was an old venerable chap named Girlay. Perhaps one of the nicest Dwarves one could meet he was a three time war veteran, and had served in the Ironforge guard for so many years. However, age had finally caught up with him and, having trained hundreds of soldiers that were now skilled warriors, he finally put down his armour and retired – from the army at least. Now however, he spent his days guarding the Deeprun with several other Dwarves, and it was the perfect way to spend his retirement in his mind. This way, he still served the Dwarf nation, albeit in a very small way.
The part he loved the most, was the amount of people he had got to know that travelled on the trains. There were all types; Elves, Humans, Gnomes, Dwarves and Draenei, and he had met many good people during his time. Dressed in his mail armour, green travelling cloak, which always had its hood up and he held his faithful shotgun that he had used since being a young beardling, he was a reassuring figure for protection on the way.
Tonight’s night shift was as normal as any other night; there was nothing to report apart from the traffic being slower than usual. Still, Girlay and his four lads sat at a table on the Stormwind side rolling the bones as usual. They had a few drinks and were in a lively mood as they waited for somebody to arrive. Once again Girlay was destroying the boys, his sets of dice were worn and used but lucky – he had used them for over two hundred years.
The game was disturbed by a figure walking towards the train, and as steadfast as ever Girlay packed the game up in an instant, now facing the approaching figure, the shape of a man, to welcome him on board.
“Evenin’ lad! Welcome tae’ tha’ Deeprun Tram. If yae’ looking for ah’ fast and speedy way tae’ Ironforge you’ve come to tha’ right place!” Girlay recited, and behind him his boys took up place on each of the carriages.
The male was wearing a dark brown travelling cloak with his hood up so that Girlay couldn’t see his face. This unnerved Girlay slightly and it set his sense on alert, there was an air of wrongness about this fellow. The figure merely nodded and walked past Girlay onto the carriage, then turned to look at him pointedly.
Shaking his fear away, Girlay walked onto the carriage, taking a seat opposite the man, partly because he always did and partly because he wanted this man in his sights all the times. He gave the signal, and the train set off at the great speed that it always did.
Throughout the entire journey the male didn’t say a thing, just sat there with his head down and his hood fully covered up. His hands were
underneath the cloak, and the only other visible part were his shoes, just simple black slip on’s. For the duration of the journey, Girlay tried to make small talk, but just received a blank stare from the blackness of the hood. He couldn’t even see any eyes deep underneath and again he felt the feeling of unease creeping back into his stomach. What if this man was one of those warlocks? Girlay thought, half debating whether to search the man. He decided against it – there were some weird people after all in the world, but even at that thought he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
The train screeched to a stop at Ironforge, and Girlay allowed the man to get off first, which he did without a word, and then followed, holding his shotgun steady. “Safe travels lad! Come back whenever you want.” He called after the man.
At the end of the last syllable the man stopped dead in the middle of the room, almost as if he had been frozen in place. He turned on the spot and now Girlay could see the eyes – a fel green colour that reminded him of only one thing. “I shan’t be.” The voice said without emotion.
Those eyes struck Girlay at his very core; his soul. He had seen that colour only once before, and he had never thought to lay eyes on it again – the fiery demons of the Burning Legion. The last time he had seen that green, was when an infernal had been bearing down on him, and he had no desire to see anymore of it. He bought his gun up and trained it on the human. “At arms lads, this ones a demon lover!” He roared at his men, who drew their weapons. “Circle manoeuvres, surround tha’ facker and make sure he canne’ escape.” He ordered, and luckily the moved slowly round the room to block his escape route into Ironforge.
A deep laughter came from below the robe, and then the robe itself caught fire and burnt to cinders in seconds. The man that stood there was a horrific sight to behold, a human male. His skin was deathly pale, but it was the fel green tattoos all over his body that made him truly hideous. The colours pulsed, shifted and seemed to radiate power itself, power even the warlock couldn’t control. His body was thin and lean, and his shoulder length blonde hair was dirty and unkempt – but the malicious smile on his face was the truly scary thing. “And so, they come.” Was all the male said, before he
clicked his fingers and the doors to Ironforge slammed shut, locking magically in a second; they were trapped.
Slowly, and majestically the male rose into the air suspended by magic. With his arms held out wide he had a dark smile on his face – one of resignation. Girlay had seen this before; it was a sacrifice. Raising his gun he roared at the lads “KILL HIM!” then fired off a deafening shot, only to have his own red hot shells repel off an invisible force field and straight back at him. Singed and burned, Girlay could only watch as the other boys had their attacks fail too.
Now the human laughed manically, chanting words that had only been heard on Azeroth a handful of times before, the demonic language itself. A sharp pointed stone with runes covering it flew from the mans robe, hovered above his chest and at a simple word from the male pierced his heart, causing his 0062ody to explode in a glorious display of blood, guts and flesh. When Girlay looked again, there was a tear in the gap of reality – a portal to another dimension. And through it, stepped three felguard, with dozens more behind them.
The two nearest Dwarfs stood no chance, having never faced the merciless monstrosities before; they were cut down in two simple swings from
the beasts, their chests carved open. Snarling in rage, the other three dwarves grabbed their hammers and charged. In a blind rage they
smashed at one of the felguard, killing it in a lucky blow, but in that time a felbeast and a doomguard had appeared, and cut into the lads so savagely that they were gone in seconds.
Now Girlay faced at least a dozen Burning Legion alone, and he knew that his days were finally over. Grasping his axe, he let out one savage
roar, one last cry from the bottom of his stomach, one last swing from his axe. He took a felguard down in a clean cut, but the doomguard that followed impaled him swiftly with its cruel edged sword. As he fell to the floor, blood pouring from his mouth he grasped for his shotgun, his one last companion. His fingers folded round the handle, and Girlay breathed his last, a smile on the fallen warrior’s lips.
Just outside in Tinker Town a near on riot was happening. With the doors having slammed magically shut, there was a panic arising in the crowd
that was gathered there. The Gnome mages had deduced that the door was magically locked, although by what form of magic and why they couldn’t figure out. About twenty guards had been assembled to try and force the door open, but to no avail so far. One of the mages was talking with the captain of the Ironforge guard, chatting away with plenty of nonsense that the Dwarf had no clue about.
“Well you see, we think it could be a magically binding seal perhaps cause by a temporary flux in the stream of magic in and out. Perhaps somebody in there cast a spell that has sealed the doors closed. Or maybe a gravitational flux of temporal space. So many options … hmm.” The gnome called Jase’ went on, leaving the captain stumped. “Perhaps a reversal of the callipers, no that won’t work we need to try a full on approach. Perhaps a arcane binding gear?” he said, as if talking to somebody not there.
Scratching his head, Captain Doriak grunted in annoyance “Ah don’ understand all this crap. Ah’ just want that door open anyway you can. NOW!”
He roared the last word, and the little Gnome yelped then ran off to help. Looking back to his lads he roared above everyone else “Right, back off from tha’ door. Get some explosives, ah’m blowin tha’ damn thing up! SEAFORIAM CHAGRES NOW!” his men headed off to obey quickly. He walked over to Jase and prodded him on the shoulder. “Lad, I want yer and yer’ mage pals tae’ form a barrier around the door. Ah’ don’t want tha’ explosives tae’ damage anything this side. Yae’ reckon yae’ can do it?”
“Of course! A barrier against Seaforiam takes a simple flux in the arcane dimensions. All one needs to do is image a bubble, and the particles take shape themselves.” Jase said, bouncing on his heels.
Once again, Doriak had no idea what the mage had just meant. Something about ‘bubbles’ but still he nodded “Good, get too it.” He said, just as the Seaforiam was bought in and placed against the door. With the mages in place, and the bombs lit on a minute timer Doriak stood back to watch. “Careful, careful lads, keep that shield steady!” He roared at the gnomes. A shimmer could be seen in the air as the gnomes encased both the door and the bombs in a very slight purple haze – he trusted they could hold it.
The countdown seemed to take forever, but within seconds the explosion rocked the Dwarves and Gnomes nearby, the flames encased in the force-field. When they had all been extinguished the shield faded and a huge cloud of smoke and dust rose, blocking the view to the Deeprun.
Slowly, ever so slowly the smoke cleared, and revealed a horror Doriak had only ever seen a few times in his life – and he had hoped never to see them again. With a quick head count, he counted at least thirty felguard, doomguard, felbeasts, succubuss, voidwalkers, imps and every other stinking monster of the Burning Legion, and just behind them sat a portal, a gateway to the twisting nether and the world of the demons. For a moment or two, the Dwarves just stared dumbly at the advancing demons, then with a cry from Doriak they assembled and charged at the beasts, hacking into them with a brutality Doriak didn’t know they even had.
The demons however, had a brutality of their own which consisted of a primal fury and a need to kill anything and everything. Unblinking and unflinching at the loss of their comrades the demons laid into the Dwarves with a speed and skill only a few of them had seen before. Several Dwarves lay dead on the floor, but that only served to enrage the surviving guard, and they hacked, slashed and battered anything demon like, determined to hold the tunnel, and protect their precious city.
Doriak, whom had battled these monsters before knew that they couldn’t let the demons get through the tunnel. Every step his men took back was
one more step the demons had to encroaching themselves in Ironforge, and for this reason he was at the head of his group, fighting with a hatred he held for nothing else. He knew how they fought, and he fought just as they did – hard and dirty. Kicking, head butting and backstabbing were all needed against these foul spawn of the dark. A doomguard raised its sword to impale a nearby Dwarf, only to find its arm on the floor, then an axe across its chest from Doriak. Grunting he carried on, cutting down a felbeast that had leapt at a Gnome mage, its deadly suckers just thirsting to drain a magic user of their life essence.
Hearing a growl behind him, Doriak whirled on the spot, to find the jaws of another fel beast bearing down on him, the creatures flank knocking him to the floor. Instantly the beast was upon him, jaws snapping ever so close to his face, but Doriak had reacted faster. Dropping his axe and shield he had grabbed the creatures head and with strength on par with an Orc’s he snapped the beast’s neck in one fluid motion, the monster falling off him limp.
He was on his feet again a second later grabbing his axe as he did, and just in time to open up a felguards chest that was bearing down on him. He had just a few scant seconds to scan the situation, and was not impressed with what he saw. At least seven Dwarves were dead and even though thirty or more demons had been killed, there were more running down the tunnel. Tha’ portal won’t be open for much longer, but these fackin’ demons will just keep comin’ in tha’ time he thought to himself, as he cut down a nearby doomguard; he beasts head spinning off to the side. The odds looked good if they could hold it till the portal closed, but until then it would be a hard slog. Grunting, Doriak grasped his axe one more time, and leapt back into the fray.
a bar nearby, and with a single look the pair snatched up their weapons and were gone in a flash, running as fast as they could towards Tinker Town. As they ran along, Galim’s face was stony cold – first the Orc and now this, it was far too coincidental. What was going on here? Why was this happening? Grunting in annoyance he pushed himself on faster, and he could feel Ojanas eyes boring into the back of him; she was evidently trying to figure out what was going on.
As the pair ran past the Military Ward, Galim felt a sharp stabbing sensation in his chest, like his heart was trying to leap out of his chest. He gasped for a fraction of a moment, and then the pain was gone. Luckily, Ojana hadn’t noticed, nor had she heard the gasp but that did little to ease his even more troubled mind now. Rubbing his chest where the pain had struck, Galim realised that it wasn’t a pain at his heart; it was a pain in his soul. Why and how it had happened remained unexplained to him, but that could be figured out after the invasion had been stopped. There were much more pressing matters at hand that the insignificant worries of himself.
Turning to Ojana Galim spoke, his voice deep and full of worry “Why do yae’ think this has happened Ojana?”
She shrugged “Dunnae’, lets worry bout tha’ one after tha’ demons are dead shall we.” She answered, as the pair neared the tunnel ahead.
Galim started to reply, but his voice was drowned out by a horrific roar from the tunnel ahead. They both slowed to a stop at the sight before them, and Galim could hardly believe that this monstrosity was inside of Ironforge. Whatever had summoned the portal had either strengthened it, or some of the dreaded Eredar Warlocks had entered and widened the portal enough to allow this disgrace to existence through. It was a Core Hound, one of the largest and deadliest monsters in the burning legions arsenal. In many respects it was like an oversized dog, apart from the two heads, the molten flame for skin and the spikes that jutted from all over its back. A huge metal chain collar was around its neck, and each of its four legs was twice as
thick as Galim himself. Overall, the beast stood at least ten times the size of the Dwarves, and as they stared dumbly at the advancing monstrosity, it lowered it’s head and let loose a stream of green fel fire, that threatened to consume and burn Galim in seconds.
However, when the fire struck Galim was no longer there; he had finally got a grasp of his senses and rolled to his right, his axe drawn and ready.
Behind the beast he could see the Ironforge guards struggling against the on coming wave of demons, and the hole that the Core Hound had burst through meaning the defenders had to spread their lines thinner. Dwarves were advancing from every direction to assist, and many simply gawped at the Core Hound that was roaring in the middle of the Military Ward.
One guard charged the beast, yelling “FUR’ KHAZ MODAN!” Before Galim could yell that it was suicide at the male, the Hound had snapped the guard up, devouring him in one single swallow. It roared once again, then let loose a plume of fire on the guards surrounding it; but luckily they all had the sense to duck to the sides and avoid the deathly flame. With a yell from a sergeant, the Rangers and Mountaineers fired off their guns, tearing holes into the massive beast but to no effect whatsoever. The Hound simply shrugged the attacks off and roared once again, tensing its legs as it prepared to
charge. Galim however was there, underneath the massive creature and slicing at its legs with his axe. Huge wounds had opened up on its ankles, and green blood spurted out from them except even the blood was dangerous; containing a deadly acidic quality that could burn through nearly anything.
Confused and annoyed, the Hound turned on the spot trying to find Galim underneath – it seemed unfazed by the wounds, and more just annoyed. Trapped like a rabbit in the headlights, Galim couldn’t find a way out of his predicament, and prayed to the gods for a miracle. The creature then seemed to have an idea, rose up on its legs and dropped like a bomb – it was going to sit its several tonnes of weight right on top of Galim. He watched as the underside of the belly loomed ever closer, and prayed his death would be swift.
The jails inside the Military Ward held one solitary captive, and the captive in question felt had felt a sharp sudden pain in his soul only moments before a huge roar resounded through the entire chamber. Having only heard a roar like that once before he had prayed never to hear it again; his prayers evidently unanswered now. The roar of the Core Hound shook Gorush to his very core, and it enraged him that he was stuck behind the bars unable to do anything. The Burning Legion had arrived in Ironforge by what means he didn’t know but if a Core Hound had managed to get through, the portal must be strong enough to last a good few hours. In that time, everything in Ironforge would be destroyed utterly, with no mercy between man women and child.
Again, another flaring pain coursed through his chest and passed within a second. What is this pain? It doesn’t strike at my organs, or flesh but more at my very core! Touching the spot above his heart where the pain had flared he was confused – his heart was beating normally, albeit slightly faster than usual. It had felt like a stab at his very essence, his soul. And then it stuck him like a bomb, how it could be possible he knew he did not know – Galim was out there fighting the beast, and he was in trouble. In fact, the beast was not far off unleashing the final blow, and for some unknown reason, Gorush knew it would kill himself too.
A burning sensation suddenly filled him, causing him to gasp in shock and pain. It filled his entire, body surging through his blood, arms, legs, muscles – everywhere. He had never felt anything like it before but it energised him in a way the Bloodlust never had, he felt ten times stronger. Roaring the pain of his soul surged through him again, and in a rage he had never known before he grasped the bars of his cell and wrenched them apart with such ferocity, he bent every single bar back. Unfazed by the incredible feat of strength, Gorush sped out of his cell, towards the exit of the block. There were no guards around, as they had gone off to fight the oncoming demons, so he easily found his way out – battering down a door with a single punch on the way to find his axe. As he made it outside the HQ, the sight before him shocked his eyes.
A good fifty Dwarves surrounded the beast, but none of them able to do a thing to the massive monster. The thing that tugged at his soul however, was the fact Galim was caught underneath the beast as it tried desperately to find him. Galim had no way out, and Gorush knew what was going to happen next. He was right, it straightened up, then literally sat down, squashing the Dwarf in an instant.
Or, it would have done, except the pain inside Gorush’s soul had flared even greater than ever before. It was pain that racked his core being, his mind knew nothing and he found his legs moving at a speed unknown to any Orc before. The Dwarves didn’t even register his presence until he had leapt through the air towards the Core Hound. Roaring a battle cry that shook the very foundations of Ironforge, Gorush shouldered the creature’s side with a force that knocked the several tonnes of flesh flying back.
Below the beast, Galim looked up at the Orc, and could only gawp as Gorush sent the monster flying away with a strength he had never before
seen. And he wasn’t finished there either. In fact, the Orc seemed to be glowing a dark purple colour. It outlined his body like the Light outlined a paladin, and his axe left purple streaks across the ceiling as it moved around. It was truly an impressive sight to see, and it made Galim wonder how the Orc had achieved this incredible display.
As the beast struggled to get back to its feet, Gorush was on it once more as he leapt, and with a single swipe he cut into the demons neck. It was a powerful strike yes, but would never normally have killed the beast outright – except for the purple energy surrounding his axe. As soon as he had swung, the energy exploded in a massive arc, severing through the monsters two heads and decapitating it in a most impressive display. The Hound’s head still blinked dumbly for the moment they hung in mid air, before the whole body crumpled and dropped, destroyed by the unbelievable power.
Gorush landed hard from the height, but his new empowered muscles allowed his legs to take the harsh impact with hardly any strain. Grinning,
Gorush turned to the stunned Galim, walking slowly towards the fellow Dwarf.
“Alright down there?” He said smugly, winking as he did – his troubled and unsettled soul finally at ease as the purple glow faded from the pair of them.
Heres Chapter three and its longer than the others. Hope you all enjoy it and Girloy this is your bit! I hope you like it :/Chapter3 – The Night Shift
The Deeprun Tram - the pinnacle of Gnomish engineering. Two trains that ran back and forth between Stormwind and Ironforge underground atbreakneck speeds that had never before been achieved by man, Dwarf or Elf; it was a piece of work that truly displayed the genius and wonder of the Gnomes. The tunnels themselves were several hundred meters deep underground, and had been bored out by massive drilling machines the Gnomes had constructed. The science behind it was staggering, and to the uneducated mind one would have thought it was created by a special kind of magic that nobody but Gnomes could comprehend.
The carriages themselves carried up to eight people, and the train ran off ‘Electricity’, which allowed it to reach speeds of up to eighty miles an hour. The fastest speed that had ever been recorded had been by dragons, and even those could only reach around sixty. This was a creation that was setting Azeroth into a new age of technology, something that a lot of people feared.
Still, the Dwarf that patrolled the trains back and forth every night was an old venerable chap named Girlay. Perhaps one of the nicest Dwarves one could meet he was a three time war veteran, and had served in the Ironforge guard for so many years. However, age had finally caught up with him and, having trained hundreds of soldiers that were now skilled warriors, he finally put down his armour and retired – from the army at least. Now however, he spent his days guarding the Deeprun with several other Dwarves, and it was the perfect way to spend his retirement in his mind. This way, he still served the Dwarf nation, albeit in a very small way.
The part he loved the most, was the amount of people he had got to know that travelled on the trains. There were all types; Elves, Humans, Gnomes, Dwarves and Draenei, and he had met many good people during his time. Dressed in his mail armour, green travelling cloak, which always had its hood up and he held his faithful shotgun that he had used since being a young beardling, he was a reassuring figure for protection on the way.
Tonight’s night shift was as normal as any other night; there was nothing to report apart from the traffic being slower than usual. Still, Girlay and his four lads sat at a table on the Stormwind side rolling the bones as usual. They had a few drinks and were in a lively mood as they waited for somebody to arrive. Once again Girlay was destroying the boys, his sets of dice were worn and used but lucky – he had used them for over two hundred years.
The game was disturbed by a figure walking towards the train, and as steadfast as ever Girlay packed the game up in an instant, now facing the approaching figure, the shape of a man, to welcome him on board.
“Evenin’ lad! Welcome tae’ tha’ Deeprun Tram. If yae’ looking for ah’ fast and speedy way tae’ Ironforge you’ve come to tha’ right place!” Girlay recited, and behind him his boys took up place on each of the carriages.
The male was wearing a dark brown travelling cloak with his hood up so that Girlay couldn’t see his face. This unnerved Girlay slightly and it set his sense on alert, there was an air of wrongness about this fellow. The figure merely nodded and walked past Girlay onto the carriage, then turned to look at him pointedly.
Shaking his fear away, Girlay walked onto the carriage, taking a seat opposite the man, partly because he always did and partly because he wanted this man in his sights all the times. He gave the signal, and the train set off at the great speed that it always did.
Throughout the entire journey the male didn’t say a thing, just sat there with his head down and his hood fully covered up. His hands were
underneath the cloak, and the only other visible part were his shoes, just simple black slip on’s. For the duration of the journey, Girlay tried to make small talk, but just received a blank stare from the blackness of the hood. He couldn’t even see any eyes deep underneath and again he felt the feeling of unease creeping back into his stomach. What if this man was one of those warlocks? Girlay thought, half debating whether to search the man. He decided against it – there were some weird people after all in the world, but even at that thought he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
The train screeched to a stop at Ironforge, and Girlay allowed the man to get off first, which he did without a word, and then followed, holding his shotgun steady. “Safe travels lad! Come back whenever you want.” He called after the man.
At the end of the last syllable the man stopped dead in the middle of the room, almost as if he had been frozen in place. He turned on the spot and now Girlay could see the eyes – a fel green colour that reminded him of only one thing. “I shan’t be.” The voice said without emotion.
Those eyes struck Girlay at his very core; his soul. He had seen that colour only once before, and he had never thought to lay eyes on it again – the fiery demons of the Burning Legion. The last time he had seen that green, was when an infernal had been bearing down on him, and he had no desire to see anymore of it. He bought his gun up and trained it on the human. “At arms lads, this ones a demon lover!” He roared at his men, who drew their weapons. “Circle manoeuvres, surround tha’ facker and make sure he canne’ escape.” He ordered, and luckily the moved slowly round the room to block his escape route into Ironforge.
A deep laughter came from below the robe, and then the robe itself caught fire and burnt to cinders in seconds. The man that stood there was a horrific sight to behold, a human male. His skin was deathly pale, but it was the fel green tattoos all over his body that made him truly hideous. The colours pulsed, shifted and seemed to radiate power itself, power even the warlock couldn’t control. His body was thin and lean, and his shoulder length blonde hair was dirty and unkempt – but the malicious smile on his face was the truly scary thing. “And so, they come.” Was all the male said, before he
clicked his fingers and the doors to Ironforge slammed shut, locking magically in a second; they were trapped.
Slowly, and majestically the male rose into the air suspended by magic. With his arms held out wide he had a dark smile on his face – one of resignation. Girlay had seen this before; it was a sacrifice. Raising his gun he roared at the lads “KILL HIM!” then fired off a deafening shot, only to have his own red hot shells repel off an invisible force field and straight back at him. Singed and burned, Girlay could only watch as the other boys had their attacks fail too.
Now the human laughed manically, chanting words that had only been heard on Azeroth a handful of times before, the demonic language itself. A sharp pointed stone with runes covering it flew from the mans robe, hovered above his chest and at a simple word from the male pierced his heart, causing his 0062ody to explode in a glorious display of blood, guts and flesh. When Girlay looked again, there was a tear in the gap of reality – a portal to another dimension. And through it, stepped three felguard, with dozens more behind them.
The two nearest Dwarfs stood no chance, having never faced the merciless monstrosities before; they were cut down in two simple swings from
the beasts, their chests carved open. Snarling in rage, the other three dwarves grabbed their hammers and charged. In a blind rage they
smashed at one of the felguard, killing it in a lucky blow, but in that time a felbeast and a doomguard had appeared, and cut into the lads so savagely that they were gone in seconds.
Now Girlay faced at least a dozen Burning Legion alone, and he knew that his days were finally over. Grasping his axe, he let out one savage
roar, one last cry from the bottom of his stomach, one last swing from his axe. He took a felguard down in a clean cut, but the doomguard that followed impaled him swiftly with its cruel edged sword. As he fell to the floor, blood pouring from his mouth he grasped for his shotgun, his one last companion. His fingers folded round the handle, and Girlay breathed his last, a smile on the fallen warrior’s lips.
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Just outside in Tinker Town a near on riot was happening. With the doors having slammed magically shut, there was a panic arising in the crowd
that was gathered there. The Gnome mages had deduced that the door was magically locked, although by what form of magic and why they couldn’t figure out. About twenty guards had been assembled to try and force the door open, but to no avail so far. One of the mages was talking with the captain of the Ironforge guard, chatting away with plenty of nonsense that the Dwarf had no clue about.
“Well you see, we think it could be a magically binding seal perhaps cause by a temporary flux in the stream of magic in and out. Perhaps somebody in there cast a spell that has sealed the doors closed. Or maybe a gravitational flux of temporal space. So many options … hmm.” The gnome called Jase’ went on, leaving the captain stumped. “Perhaps a reversal of the callipers, no that won’t work we need to try a full on approach. Perhaps a arcane binding gear?” he said, as if talking to somebody not there.
Scratching his head, Captain Doriak grunted in annoyance “Ah don’ understand all this crap. Ah’ just want that door open anyway you can. NOW!”
He roared the last word, and the little Gnome yelped then ran off to help. Looking back to his lads he roared above everyone else “Right, back off from tha’ door. Get some explosives, ah’m blowin tha’ damn thing up! SEAFORIAM CHAGRES NOW!” his men headed off to obey quickly. He walked over to Jase and prodded him on the shoulder. “Lad, I want yer and yer’ mage pals tae’ form a barrier around the door. Ah’ don’t want tha’ explosives tae’ damage anything this side. Yae’ reckon yae’ can do it?”
“Of course! A barrier against Seaforiam takes a simple flux in the arcane dimensions. All one needs to do is image a bubble, and the particles take shape themselves.” Jase said, bouncing on his heels.
Once again, Doriak had no idea what the mage had just meant. Something about ‘bubbles’ but still he nodded “Good, get too it.” He said, just as the Seaforiam was bought in and placed against the door. With the mages in place, and the bombs lit on a minute timer Doriak stood back to watch. “Careful, careful lads, keep that shield steady!” He roared at the gnomes. A shimmer could be seen in the air as the gnomes encased both the door and the bombs in a very slight purple haze – he trusted they could hold it.
The countdown seemed to take forever, but within seconds the explosion rocked the Dwarves and Gnomes nearby, the flames encased in the force-field. When they had all been extinguished the shield faded and a huge cloud of smoke and dust rose, blocking the view to the Deeprun.
Slowly, ever so slowly the smoke cleared, and revealed a horror Doriak had only ever seen a few times in his life – and he had hoped never to see them again. With a quick head count, he counted at least thirty felguard, doomguard, felbeasts, succubuss, voidwalkers, imps and every other stinking monster of the Burning Legion, and just behind them sat a portal, a gateway to the twisting nether and the world of the demons. For a moment or two, the Dwarves just stared dumbly at the advancing demons, then with a cry from Doriak they assembled and charged at the beasts, hacking into them with a brutality Doriak didn’t know they even had.
The demons however, had a brutality of their own which consisted of a primal fury and a need to kill anything and everything. Unblinking and unflinching at the loss of their comrades the demons laid into the Dwarves with a speed and skill only a few of them had seen before. Several Dwarves lay dead on the floor, but that only served to enrage the surviving guard, and they hacked, slashed and battered anything demon like, determined to hold the tunnel, and protect their precious city.
Doriak, whom had battled these monsters before knew that they couldn’t let the demons get through the tunnel. Every step his men took back was
one more step the demons had to encroaching themselves in Ironforge, and for this reason he was at the head of his group, fighting with a hatred he held for nothing else. He knew how they fought, and he fought just as they did – hard and dirty. Kicking, head butting and backstabbing were all needed against these foul spawn of the dark. A doomguard raised its sword to impale a nearby Dwarf, only to find its arm on the floor, then an axe across its chest from Doriak. Grunting he carried on, cutting down a felbeast that had leapt at a Gnome mage, its deadly suckers just thirsting to drain a magic user of their life essence.
Hearing a growl behind him, Doriak whirled on the spot, to find the jaws of another fel beast bearing down on him, the creatures flank knocking him to the floor. Instantly the beast was upon him, jaws snapping ever so close to his face, but Doriak had reacted faster. Dropping his axe and shield he had grabbed the creatures head and with strength on par with an Orc’s he snapped the beast’s neck in one fluid motion, the monster falling off him limp.
He was on his feet again a second later grabbing his axe as he did, and just in time to open up a felguards chest that was bearing down on him. He had just a few scant seconds to scan the situation, and was not impressed with what he saw. At least seven Dwarves were dead and even though thirty or more demons had been killed, there were more running down the tunnel. Tha’ portal won’t be open for much longer, but these fackin’ demons will just keep comin’ in tha’ time he thought to himself, as he cut down a nearby doomguard; he beasts head spinning off to the side. The odds looked good if they could hold it till the portal closed, but until then it would be a hard slog. Grunting, Doriak grasped his axe one more time, and leapt back into the fray.
----------------------------
The word that demons were attacking spread like wildfire across the city, and within minutes it had reached Galim and Ojana who were sitting ata bar nearby, and with a single look the pair snatched up their weapons and were gone in a flash, running as fast as they could towards Tinker Town. As they ran along, Galim’s face was stony cold – first the Orc and now this, it was far too coincidental. What was going on here? Why was this happening? Grunting in annoyance he pushed himself on faster, and he could feel Ojanas eyes boring into the back of him; she was evidently trying to figure out what was going on.
As the pair ran past the Military Ward, Galim felt a sharp stabbing sensation in his chest, like his heart was trying to leap out of his chest. He gasped for a fraction of a moment, and then the pain was gone. Luckily, Ojana hadn’t noticed, nor had she heard the gasp but that did little to ease his even more troubled mind now. Rubbing his chest where the pain had struck, Galim realised that it wasn’t a pain at his heart; it was a pain in his soul. Why and how it had happened remained unexplained to him, but that could be figured out after the invasion had been stopped. There were much more pressing matters at hand that the insignificant worries of himself.
Turning to Ojana Galim spoke, his voice deep and full of worry “Why do yae’ think this has happened Ojana?”
She shrugged “Dunnae’, lets worry bout tha’ one after tha’ demons are dead shall we.” She answered, as the pair neared the tunnel ahead.
Galim started to reply, but his voice was drowned out by a horrific roar from the tunnel ahead. They both slowed to a stop at the sight before them, and Galim could hardly believe that this monstrosity was inside of Ironforge. Whatever had summoned the portal had either strengthened it, or some of the dreaded Eredar Warlocks had entered and widened the portal enough to allow this disgrace to existence through. It was a Core Hound, one of the largest and deadliest monsters in the burning legions arsenal. In many respects it was like an oversized dog, apart from the two heads, the molten flame for skin and the spikes that jutted from all over its back. A huge metal chain collar was around its neck, and each of its four legs was twice as
thick as Galim himself. Overall, the beast stood at least ten times the size of the Dwarves, and as they stared dumbly at the advancing monstrosity, it lowered it’s head and let loose a stream of green fel fire, that threatened to consume and burn Galim in seconds.
However, when the fire struck Galim was no longer there; he had finally got a grasp of his senses and rolled to his right, his axe drawn and ready.
Behind the beast he could see the Ironforge guards struggling against the on coming wave of demons, and the hole that the Core Hound had burst through meaning the defenders had to spread their lines thinner. Dwarves were advancing from every direction to assist, and many simply gawped at the Core Hound that was roaring in the middle of the Military Ward.
One guard charged the beast, yelling “FUR’ KHAZ MODAN!” Before Galim could yell that it was suicide at the male, the Hound had snapped the guard up, devouring him in one single swallow. It roared once again, then let loose a plume of fire on the guards surrounding it; but luckily they all had the sense to duck to the sides and avoid the deathly flame. With a yell from a sergeant, the Rangers and Mountaineers fired off their guns, tearing holes into the massive beast but to no effect whatsoever. The Hound simply shrugged the attacks off and roared once again, tensing its legs as it prepared to
charge. Galim however was there, underneath the massive creature and slicing at its legs with his axe. Huge wounds had opened up on its ankles, and green blood spurted out from them except even the blood was dangerous; containing a deadly acidic quality that could burn through nearly anything.
Confused and annoyed, the Hound turned on the spot trying to find Galim underneath – it seemed unfazed by the wounds, and more just annoyed. Trapped like a rabbit in the headlights, Galim couldn’t find a way out of his predicament, and prayed to the gods for a miracle. The creature then seemed to have an idea, rose up on its legs and dropped like a bomb – it was going to sit its several tonnes of weight right on top of Galim. He watched as the underside of the belly loomed ever closer, and prayed his death would be swift.
-----------------------------------
The jails inside the Military Ward held one solitary captive, and the captive in question felt had felt a sharp sudden pain in his soul only moments before a huge roar resounded through the entire chamber. Having only heard a roar like that once before he had prayed never to hear it again; his prayers evidently unanswered now. The roar of the Core Hound shook Gorush to his very core, and it enraged him that he was stuck behind the bars unable to do anything. The Burning Legion had arrived in Ironforge by what means he didn’t know but if a Core Hound had managed to get through, the portal must be strong enough to last a good few hours. In that time, everything in Ironforge would be destroyed utterly, with no mercy between man women and child.
Again, another flaring pain coursed through his chest and passed within a second. What is this pain? It doesn’t strike at my organs, or flesh but more at my very core! Touching the spot above his heart where the pain had flared he was confused – his heart was beating normally, albeit slightly faster than usual. It had felt like a stab at his very essence, his soul. And then it stuck him like a bomb, how it could be possible he knew he did not know – Galim was out there fighting the beast, and he was in trouble. In fact, the beast was not far off unleashing the final blow, and for some unknown reason, Gorush knew it would kill himself too.
A burning sensation suddenly filled him, causing him to gasp in shock and pain. It filled his entire, body surging through his blood, arms, legs, muscles – everywhere. He had never felt anything like it before but it energised him in a way the Bloodlust never had, he felt ten times stronger. Roaring the pain of his soul surged through him again, and in a rage he had never known before he grasped the bars of his cell and wrenched them apart with such ferocity, he bent every single bar back. Unfazed by the incredible feat of strength, Gorush sped out of his cell, towards the exit of the block. There were no guards around, as they had gone off to fight the oncoming demons, so he easily found his way out – battering down a door with a single punch on the way to find his axe. As he made it outside the HQ, the sight before him shocked his eyes.
A good fifty Dwarves surrounded the beast, but none of them able to do a thing to the massive monster. The thing that tugged at his soul however, was the fact Galim was caught underneath the beast as it tried desperately to find him. Galim had no way out, and Gorush knew what was going to happen next. He was right, it straightened up, then literally sat down, squashing the Dwarf in an instant.
Or, it would have done, except the pain inside Gorush’s soul had flared even greater than ever before. It was pain that racked his core being, his mind knew nothing and he found his legs moving at a speed unknown to any Orc before. The Dwarves didn’t even register his presence until he had leapt through the air towards the Core Hound. Roaring a battle cry that shook the very foundations of Ironforge, Gorush shouldered the creature’s side with a force that knocked the several tonnes of flesh flying back.
Below the beast, Galim looked up at the Orc, and could only gawp as Gorush sent the monster flying away with a strength he had never before
seen. And he wasn’t finished there either. In fact, the Orc seemed to be glowing a dark purple colour. It outlined his body like the Light outlined a paladin, and his axe left purple streaks across the ceiling as it moved around. It was truly an impressive sight to see, and it made Galim wonder how the Orc had achieved this incredible display.
As the beast struggled to get back to its feet, Gorush was on it once more as he leapt, and with a single swipe he cut into the demons neck. It was a powerful strike yes, but would never normally have killed the beast outright – except for the purple energy surrounding his axe. As soon as he had swung, the energy exploded in a massive arc, severing through the monsters two heads and decapitating it in a most impressive display. The Hound’s head still blinked dumbly for the moment they hung in mid air, before the whole body crumpled and dropped, destroyed by the unbelievable power.
Gorush landed hard from the height, but his new empowered muscles allowed his legs to take the harsh impact with hardly any strain. Grinning,
Gorush turned to the stunned Galim, walking slowly towards the fellow Dwarf.
“Alright down there?” He said smugly, winking as he did – his troubled and unsettled soul finally at ease as the purple glow faded from the pair of them.
Ojana_DRS- Posts : 33
Join date : 2010-06-10
Age : 33
Location : England baby
Re: Divided Soul
by Whiston Farley Mon Jun 21, 2010 11:15 pm
Omg!:O
Thanks Ojana!!!
It's simply awsome! I'll be waiting for more.
Thanks Ojana!!!
It's simply awsome! I'll be waiting for more.
Whiston Farley- Posts : 219
Join date : 2010-01-31
Age : 35
Location : Portugal Modan
Character sheet
Name: Whiston Farley
Title: The Hound Master - Watcher of Sacred Ground
Re: Divided Soul
by Ojana_DRS Thu Jul 15, 2010 6:21 pm
To anybody whom was reading this, I have been neglecting this story for some time, and so apologies are in order. I'll try to pick it up again in the next week Another Chapter will be up soon, have no fear.
Another Chapter will be up soon, have no fear.
Ojana_DRS- Posts : 33
Join date : 2010-06-10
Age : 33
Location : England baby
Similar topics» Two Nightmares, Two Divided Souls
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» Soul harvest
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