Warcraft: Shadow of the Dark Portal

Chapter One:

Snow fell lightly over the Hillsbrad foothills and was lost amidst the flaming houses of a village under attack. Structures burned and collapsed, men, woman, and children were dragged from their hiding places by massive green skinned Orcs wielding axes that could cleave skulls with one stroke. Those who were unable to stand, or were judged useless were killed on the spot, while the rest of them were clapped in chains, and dragged into a line. Raidmaster Nazgrel looked upon the human villagers with contempt, towering over them, his face concealed beneath a wolf skin cloak, that covered his large frame. In one hand he held a great curved sword, that was wet with the blood of the human defenders.

'Get these scum moving!' he called out in a harsh voice 'Chief Hellscream wants the fortifications in the hills to the south completed before the month is out! Let's move before the human soldiers arrive!' He hated humans. Just as he hated all the obstacles to the Hordes domination of the world that was rightfully theirs. The strong were the only ones who deserved to survive, and the humans had only survived the second war because of the Warlock Gul'dans treachery.

'Move them out.' came the harsh voice of and orcish Slavedriver.

The Orc slave drivers began to move the human slaves south into the hills, while Nazgrel looked on in satisfaction. After a moment he turned back to the burning village. An older orc approached from the wreckage of a building and Nazgrel glanced at him "Gorgrel," he said gruffly "What is it?' Gorgrel had only one eye, dark green skin, and hair that was white and braided. He had fought in the first, and second wars, and remained strong, though he was getting on it years, and he walked with a slight limp.

'It's about these humans, Nazgrel.' said the Older Orc. 'They put up a far better fight than our sources led us to believe. I felt it was worthy of concern.'

Nazgrel nodded, for it was true. These villagers had created a wall of spears, that had held them back for a time, slaying a number of warriors before they had been overwhelmed by sheer fury and brute strength. 'I admit had expected them to fall far quicker. I wonder why they did not flee like most of their pathetic race.'

'Perhaps they have prepared for our coming.' suggested Grazmul. 'The war was some years ago, and it is likely that they took measures to toughen up.'

Nazgrel nodded. The Grazmul was getting on in years, but remained an observant and competent warrior 'Perhaps they did at that. We shall inform Chief Hellscream of this once we get back. Either way, these weaklings will be crushed beneath the might of the Horde.'

'Don't be a fool.' said Grazmul bluntly 'The humans deserve respect as warriors, or do you not remember Blackrock spire?'

'That was a glorious victory for us.' shot back Nazgrel.

'A victory is only glorious if the enemy is a threat.' pointed out Grazmul 'We didn't win it because we were better warriors. The humans grew overconfident, and our charge took them by surprise. And even so we came within an inch of defeat. Had Doomhammer not slain their Champion we might well have lost.'

Nazgrel grunted and turned away 'Whatever the reason, we have grown in strength since then, and this time, the treachery of Gul'dan will not save them as it did before.'

'And they will not be taken by surprise again.' said Grazmul 'It has been years since the fall of Stormwind, and the Prince of Lordaeron is a cunning opponent. Or do you not remember our defeat to the North.'

'I have not forgotten.' said Nazgrel, gaing over the horizon, his keen eyes searching over the fields for any sign of the humans. 'And I will admit that the sorceress is a threat. Nevertheless, we will-'

'Oh do shut up.' came a voice behind him.

The words died on Nazgrel's lips, as a sword stabbed through his back.

A ripple seemed to appear in the air around the orcish column, and suddenly the Orcish column was surrounded on all sides by Alliance soldiers. They were clad head to toe in heavy armor and wielded sword and shield with dead proficiency, while others used crossbows that could pierce the thickest armor. Wordlessly, the soldiers of the Alliance converged upon the column, blades gleaming as they cut down over a dozen warriors before they could even draw their weapons. Those who had avoided death drew their weapons and the battle begain everywhere at once.

Grazmul for his part was quicker to react than his commander. As soon as he heard the voice his hand had reached the massive two handed blade on his back, and he rushed towards the human who had sabbed Nazgrel, bringing the blade down with great force!.

His blade met wirth his enemies shield, sending the man reeling, before attacking again, driving the blade into opponents chest. He turned round to see another human rushing hims and barely twisted away from theri attack, taking the blade to his left shoulder. Grazmul snarled in rage and pain, dropping his sword as the blade slashed pierced the flesh. The human brought his blade round, and Grazmul narrowly avoided being cut in half, instead cutting a shallow gash across the chest as he fell back.

His chest was bloodied, and the human was unhurt, with a shield to boot. Most people would have run.

Grazmul was not most people, and pulled out a long, curved dagger, and held it underhand. Blood seeped down his chest, and his left arm was unusable, and he realized that he would almost certainly die today. Some orcs upon such a realization would have gone berserk. It was what drinking the blood of Mannaroth had done to them, and all of them had become full of bloodlust. He circled carefully as the human did the same. He was bleeding, and he realized that he might well fall unconscious from bloodloss if he wasn't careful. And yet he could not see any way past the humans shield.

And idea occured. He fell to one knee, as if in woozyness, and the human leapt forward, driving his blade towards the old orcs chest. Even as he did so, Grazmul rolled aside with lightning speed, and jammed his knife into his enemies neck. He tore the blade out viciously and backed away a few paces, before suddenly collapsed to his knee's. The knife fell from his hand, and he suddenly felt very tired, exhausted even. And he longed to fall into the depths of nothingness. He had earned a warriors rest after all.

Then his eyes fell upon the battle, though it appeared muted and grey in his sight.

They were losing, badly. The humans had killed many in the first few moments, and though his warriors had adapted, it seemed that every time they rallied, and began to adapt, another small group of humans would appear at their flank as if from nowhere, killing some, and scattering the rest, before the process would begin again. At one point his warriors had formed a defensive circle, and for a time repulsed their enemies, yet one of the humans, a tall man with long golden hair leapt forward, raining blows down upon them with a mighty two handed warhammer. He slew many.

Grazmul found that he remembered the blond warrior. He was a Prince of the humans. He had dealt them a large defeat up to the north. He had heard whispers of this Prince even before now. He was said to be so mighty, that he had defeated Chief Hellscream in battle. A Prince who never gave up the chase once begun, only delayed his vengence. "...Arthas." He said, feeling a slight twinge of fear.

It was the fear that broke him from his trance, and he suddenly began to struggle to his feet, grabbing the dagger from the snows. He knew that with his wounds he would die, yet he might make his death have meaning. Hellscream would need to know of this. He would need to hear of Nazgrel's fall. Someone would have to warn him.

His eyes fell upon where one of his elites was battling with a human, their swords locked in a vicious struggle.

Roaring in defiance, Grazmul rushed forward and ran his dagger into the human's back. The warrior he had assisted beheaded the human, even as he fell.

"Gorgrel!" Grazmull called savagely to the warrior. "Are you injured!"

"I am unhurt!" cried Gorgrel looking around "Where is Nazgrel, let us rally to him and make our stand!"

"Nazgrel is dead!" said Grazmul quickly "Flee this place! Go to Hellscream! Tell him that his enemy is upon him! GO!" He winced in pain, as his wounds got the better of him.

The younger orc stared at him, hesitating. "But I cannot run from battle, my honor-"

"Damn your honor!" he yelled, as all around them more humans appeared "Chief Hellscream must..." he fell to one knee "...know."

Wordlessly the younger warrior nodded, and fell back, running towards the hills. A human soldier leap in his way, but the young warrior parried his blow, and struck him to the ground, before continueing his run.

And then he was through! Free of the battle, Gorgrel was running towards the relitive safety of the hills...

Even as he disappeared from sight, Grazmul smiled slightly, before turning to where the humans were approaching him. All around him, he could see what few orcs remained falling at last. Yet some ten feet away, he could see the human Prince.

With the last of his strength Grazmul struggled to his feet, and hurled his dagger at the enemy leader.

The dagger went wide, and fell to the snows, yet Grazmul did not see it, for he was already dead.

. . . . .

Gorgrel rushed through the hills, pausing only to ensure he was upon the right path. He had lost two brothers in the battle behind him, and his heart yearned to go back. To fight, and avenge them.

Yet his duty to the Horde came first. He would fulfill it, and deliver Grazmul's message. He would not fail.

He was so focused upon the path ahead, that he did not notice the human, dressed in rags, waiting for him behind the rocks.

. . . . .

Sevren had lost everything within a day. He had been working in the fields when orcs had come upon his home without warning, or regard, and burned it. He was clapped in chains, and his home was destroyed. His wife and infant son were both murdered in cold blood, for not being considered worth enslaving.

When he had broken free of his chains, thanks to the negligence of an Orcish slavedriver, he had run and escaped, if only to deny the Orcs the benifit of his labor. It had been satisfying to see the beast slaughtered in turn for their crimes, but he had nothing left now. And then he had seen in the Orcish warrior approaching.

His first instict had been to hide, for that was what one did when you were unarmed and facing a warrior, yet once he was behind the rocks he suddenly found a grim courage grow in him.

He had nothing left to lose. Yet this Orc clearly valued it's life, if it was running so quickly.

He would have his vengence. He reached down, and clasped a large rock, and waited.

. . . . .

Somewhere in the Hillsbrad foothills, an Orcish warrior fleeing a battle and grieving for lost comrades, runs without regard to his own safety.

Not far from him, a human villager, grieving for a lost life, readies for a spring.

When the Orc passes by, he see's movement from the corner of his eye, and turns to face his enemy, not noticing the perilous footing that he stands upon.

They grapple, pitting their strength against one another, until at last the Orc loses his footing, and both fall to their death on the rocks below.

Perhaps it might have been worthy of a tale, yet no tale will be spun about this day.

It is but a footnote in history that a village was burned on this day, and that a messenger was intercepted.

Such is the world.

Such is Azeroth.

. . . . .

. . . . . . . .

Authors note:

So yeah, this fic idea has been on my mind for several years. It is very AU, departing at the battle at Blackrock spire. There may be other divergence points, however the primary one is the second war.

Timeline wise, this is about three years before the events that took place in Reign of Chaos.

All your favorite heroes and villains will probably appear at some point. Just keep in mind that because of the world changes, some may be demoted in importance.

Also, I will not be bound to the pillars of canon. There is no guarantee that Arthas will take up Frostmourne, or that then Lich King will ever even exist. Some things may be similar, but only if it makes sense within the world.

Please keep in mind that while I may draw from the books, I do not intend to be bound by them.

…Which basically means that everything in Arthas: Rise of the Lich King past the first few chapters will be discontinuity. Because I hate the direction that book took with everything past Invincible's death.

Authors edit: Well, slight plot change in this Chapter, made mostly because it was supposed to lead into a story arc that I have abandoned. Enjoy.

Yet another Author Edit: As a very kind reviewer suggested, I have moved part of the first chapter into the second. This now acts as an intro, while the next one will begin the main plot.