The Orphan's Tale Chapter One, a warcraft fanfic

DISCLAIMER

The contents herein are entirely player made and in no way represent official World of Warcraft lore or history. The characters and events listed are of an independent nature and are applied for roleplaying purposes only.

Author's Notes:

This story takes place in the 617th year of the King's Calendar, or 25 years after the events chronicled in The Dark Portal and the Fall of Stormwind, during the events portrayed in the original World of Warcraft MMO. Also, I have taken some liberties with things like the calendar, when certain events occurred, and the way some people are portrayed. World of Warcraft is a fantasy game with a mish-mash of anachronisms such as indoor plumbing, personal electromagnetic pulse generators, high-powered flashlights, books like Soothsaying for Dummies, shotguns, gyrocopters, mechanical golems, teleporters and photography. The world of Azeroth is not Middle-earth, but it is fantasy. Anyway, I have attempted to merge the two into a flowing, entertaining story.

I hope I have succeeded.

World of Warcraft:

AN ORPHAN'S TALE

By Byron Cooper

Chapter One

"Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, "Why me?", then a voice answers "Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up."
Charlie Brown

The First of Fifth Moon, 617 KC

The massive statues of the heroes from the Alliance Expedition after the Second War rose majestically to meet the sky, as the gryphon ascended over the outer walls of the city; I smiled as the familiar sights came into view. The great beast banked and passed the statue of Khadgar, one of the great heroes of Azeroth. Inclining my head slightly in respect to the mage, I turned my attention to the opening of the stables before us.

The Flightmaster of New Stormwind, Dungar Longdrink, met me with a broad smile and handshake. "Welcome back, Miss Sanverse! It has been so long since your last visit that I was beginning to think you had abandoned us."

I smiled and took his offered hand. "You know how it is for us adventures, Dungar; always running here and there, trying to make a few coins; spreading the word of our deeds near and far and all that. Oh, and you can call me Lisa, you know. I don't mind. I mean, we've known each other for a good four years now."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Miss Sanverse," replied Dungar with a bow and a smile. "But guild policy deems that 'unprofessional'."

"Well, the offer stands," I said, hefting my backpack and making my way down the hay-strewn walkway towards the opening.

"Oh, and Miss Sanverse…," He called after me.

"Yes?" I paused.

"As always, thank you for flying Gryphon Airways."

I rolled my eyes and stepped out into the busy streets of the Trade District.

It is always crowded in this part of town. Everyone eventually comes here. From emissaries of the Argent Dawn to dignitaries from Ironforge, adventurers looking to purchase new gear from the auction house, merchants hawking their wares, and tourists.

Yes, I said tourists.

A feeling of homecoming warmed me as I watched the people of all races moving here and there. Even though I am a native of Dalaran, Stormwind City has been my home ever since the Scourge decimated Lordaeron.

Recently I met a night elf from the island of Teldrassil who had said that Darnassus, the city on the new World Tree, was the mother of all cities. He may very well be right, but that bruised my human pride just a bit and so, not being a girl who minces words, I informed him that if Darnassus is the mother of all cities then Stormwind City has to be the pauper queen since she was rebuilt. To those who are unfamiliar with our beautiful queen, she is a stunning sight to behold, with her marbled walls, orderly streets, luxurious canals, and bustling districts.

But to those of us who know her more intimately, we know that there is a darker more dangerous lady hiding beneath the skirts. Travelers see the breathtaking Cathedral of Light, the wonder of gnomish engineering in the DeepRun Tram, and the serenity and quiet majesty of the Park. But we regulars see the muggings in the Trade District, the prostitution in Old Town, and know not to walk down Cut-Throat Alley after sunset.

Every district in the city of Stormwind has a 'bad part of town'. Areas where you can pick up your specialty black market items, purchase that rare, exotic and more than likely stolen gemstone or spell component, hire an assassin, and I'm sure that if you looked hard enough you could find someone that would help you plot the downfall of a kingdom. For (the right price) a price it can be had.

I was making my way through the crowded streets, avoiding the usual pick pockets and beggars, when I happened to notice a very drunk and very naked woman dancing in the fountain near the counting house. Not something you see every day; not even in Stormwind, so I joined the crowd of rubberneckers and stopped to watch.

Okay, so I stopped to watch for a second. Are you going to try and tell me that you would have kept on walking?

I don't think so.

It was then that I noticed two of the city's finest, the Stormwind Guard, also watching the spectacle. In fact, they were talking to each other, laughing and pointing as they did so. It wasn't until someone in the crowd shouted, "Oh, by the Light! That's absolutely disgraceful! Somebody call the Guard!" That they went to work covering her with a blanket helped her out of the fountain and escorted her to the Magistrate.

Oh, well, never a dull moment in the Trade District.

Leaving the Trade District behind, I crossed one of the canal bridges and entered the Mage Quarter. I still had more than two hours until I needed to meet with the Archbishop at the cathedral and I was hungry. We mages need to eat a lot, and I do mean a lot. We burn a lot of energy casting spells, heck even when we are not we burn a lot of energy. Have you ever seen a fat mage? No, I don't mean one of those so-called 'wizards' who lock themselves up in their towers for years at a time. I mean a Mage: M-A-G-E! A real mage is more of a mercenary having to adventure to keep the money coming in. Let me tell you, you are not going to adventure very long, or get very rich, if you're to out of shape to run away from couple of irate wildkin or a swarm of silithid wasps.

The Mage Quarter lacks the activity that is the Trade District. It is not your average tourist destination though. It is clean, quiet, secretive, and perfect. Everything a practitioner of the mystic arts could need is but a short walk away from the Wizard's Sanctum.

In the jewel that is the Mage Quarter there is but one flaw, a seedy little pub called the Slaughtered Lamb. Those of you who know it are smiling and nodding your heads. Those of you who don't, well, you should probably just stay away from it and go some place like the Gilded Rose or the Blue Recluse.

Jarel Moor, the surly bartender, has become quite adept at breaking up the fights that occur on a near daily basis. The pub's basement and catacombs serve as host to the city's warlock community and acts as a training ground for new recruits to their dark order. But I really don't care about any of that. The main reason I come to the 'Lamb is for the Redridge goulash.

My mouth was already watering by the time the serving girl set down the bowl of thick stew. I inhaled the heady aroma of the seasoned goretusk and spider meat. She returned a few moments later with a bottle of pinot noir and some Dalaran sharp. I took a big bite mmmm delicious! Oh, yeah! I would have to remember to thank Shante again for introducing me to Jarel.

The tavern as pretty quiet at this hour of the day and I got to enjoy my goulash in peace. I had just scraped the last bite from the bowl when I felt a firm gloved hand come to rest on my shoulder. I immediately began to cast a Fire Blast spell, but as I turned and saw who the hand belonged to, I quickly dropped the spell.

"You know," I said taking a sip of my drink, not looking up, "it's not wise to sneak up on a mage, Saphyx. Especially in a questionable environment like the Slaughtered Lamb."

Saphyx leaned over and brushed the seat off across from me before stiffly sitting down. I could tell by her pained look that she was very uncomfortable being here. Lady Saphyx Tillman; is a Knight of the Silver Hand, a warrior of the Holy Light; in short, a paladin. She was also the younger sister of my friend Shante, who just happened to be warlock. A warlock and a paladin in the same family, talk about a fork in the family tree.

"And why isn't a great mage of Dalaran like yourself frequenting someplace more reputable like the Blue Recluse?" She asked.

I met her inquisitional gaze and replied, "Because the goulash here is simply to die for."

"Well, I'm glad I bumped into you, we've been looking for you all day."

"We?"

"Shante and I."

"Why?"

"Why?! You silly girl, today begins the Week of the Wardens. That's why!"

"What?" I blinked at her.

"You know…'Children's Week'?" replied Saphyx with an exasperated sigh. "The week set aside every year to allow the citizens of the Alliance help out the war orphans?" Then she looked pointedly at me and added, "Especially the local heroes."

"Oh, right, Children's Week." I was beginning to feel like someone was dropping a noose around my neck. Don't get me wrong, I don't really have anything against orphans, it's just that at this time of my life, I'm pretty busy.

"Yes." She smiled. "You're late getting signed up but that's okay. Shante and I took the initiative and signed you up."

"Huh?" The noose was beginning to tighten. "Y-You what?"

"We signed you up. Little Randis has been assigned to you. He was four when he lost his parents in the fall of Lordaeron. He's nine years old now and he is very excited to meet you. I told him all about your adventures."

"Oh. That's, uh, very thoughtful of you, Saphyx, but… well, I…ummm." I mumbled lamely. Then, as if struck by the Arcane Intellect spell, I had an idea. "I can't do it right now. I have a very important meeting with Archbishop Benedictus in about an hour. Then I must meet with Jennea Cannon over at the Wizard's Sanctum."

Brilliant!

"And I believe she will be sending me to see some hermit in Dustwallow Marsh."

Hey, when I'm good, I'm good, folks!

"Oh." She said quietly. "I see."

"So you see I am just booked. No time. It's not that I don't want to. But, right now is just not a good time for me."

Saphyx looked at me for a moment. Was I squirming? She just looked at me and didn't say anything. Like a parent who is very disappointed with their child.

It felt like forever before she finally spoke.

"Lisa, didn't your family have to flee from Dalaran?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah. You know we did. The Scourge was "

"So you know what it is like to be far away from your home," She interrupted, nodding.

"Yeah."

"And your family?"

"What about them?" I asked. I didn't like the direction this was going. Damn her!

"How are they? Well? Have you stopped in to see them since you arrived?"

"Yes, they're fine. And no, I haven't seen them since I've been back but "

"But you can."

Now it was my turn to be quiet. That hurt.

"You know that Shante and I lost our parents after the Second War when our father refused to pay the Defias Brotherhood protection money. They cut him down, and then burned our house down. My mother died so that we could escape. I was only eight or so at the time, Lisa, but I remember every moment. I remember how scared we were, how Shante and I were almost caught by those bandits. Were it not for the good people of Stormwind City, who knows what our fate may have been."

This time I did fidget. I was speechless.

"You are presented with a chance to help some other poor child who has lost everything, a chance to make a difference in his life, maybe even inspire him to greatness and you are just going to push it away?" She shook her head, and then added with a casual gesture of her hand, "Have you truly become as dark as the company you keep, Lisa Sanverse?"

I could not speak. She had guilted me into silence.

Saphyx stood and pushed her chair back in. "Well then, I'll let you get back to your business. I hope it goes well for you." She sighed. "I will inform Matron Nightingale that Shante and I made a mistake. May the Light heal whatever shadows that have hardened your heart so."

And with that, she turned and walked slowly out of the pub. I sat for a moment while my conscience pummeled my ego to a bloody pulp, then I quickly got up and followed her outside with my ego trailing behind like a whipped puppy.

Damned paladins! I thought.

With a whimper, my ego agreed and in my mind's eye, I saw Saphyx smiling in victory.

End of Chapter One

To be continued in Chapter Two if the story is liked enough for me to continue.

P.S.: Feedback is welcome, as is constructive criticism, but please no flames...I'm not retardant (heh heh).