Repost: After my first entry of this was nuked for an infraction in the summary --' I'm posting it again, and trying to avoid breaking the rules this time… if you've already read the first chapter, don't worry about it, just move on to the second.
Primary Disclaimer: All things officially Warcrafted related and created by Blizzard are definitely not owned by me. However, the original characters and concepts in this story are. I will not make anymore disclaimers or add to this one unless new, unmentioned copyrighted material arises, so this one will stand for the entire fanfic.
Also, much thanks to barking mad arthur BMA for helping me out with some stuff. Some of you may know her from her Tortured Hearts series. If you've never heard of it, go read it now you little bastards. You don't know what you're missing.
And now, I proudly present the very first chapter of Wolven!
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Atrum. Yes, that would be his name… Atrum Lupus Everto… No longer would he be called 'Child' or 'Orphan.' The days of the past had come and gone, and so had his childhood, sooner than he had hoped. But he was done with this foul village. He was done with the rule of the King, and those silly paladins. He was done, and now he wanted to move on to something else. He'd had his revenge, and now there was nothing left for him here. The 17 year old boy picked up what little belongings he had and began to head north into the horizon, leaving the little town behind him.
Atrum sighed. Five years had passed since then. What with all the Orcs and Trolls, and Wolves and Gnolls, Golems and Infernals that he had to encounter, he had begun to regret leaving the secluded village. Until he had seen it only a year before, overrun by the Scourge, and suddenly, his day got brighter. But that didn't matter now. Atrum was a demon hunter, an eastern and Human one at that... He had seen a couple western Night Elf demon hunters a few months ago. Needless to say, the style was incredibly different. For one, the lack of eyeballs had certainly unnerved Atrum. Although the more humorous hunter had let him insert a couple of gems into his eye sockets, for hell of it. That was one memory he wouldn't soon forget. They'd nearly run away with those gems too…
Atrum was an odd looking fellow, but then again, many things seemed odd in Azeroth. His raven colored hair sprouted wildly upon his head. Two bangs fell in opposite directions, and the rest seemed to naturally spike itself at least four inches into the air, with various other smaller bangs falling upon his forehead. His eyes were an eerie golden color, known well for the fear they could strike into the hearts of men and beasts alike. He carried a helmet, which looked as if it was made from the skull of a wolf, under his right arm. The oddity about the helmet, other than its origins, was the set of horns on top it. Three grey horns, dimmed from what once may have been a pearly white. On his right shoulder rested an iron shoulder plate and his hands were armed with gauntlets made from triple-layered demon leather. One of the few likenesses he had shared with the western hunters, however, was his style of dress. No shirt, some lightweight training pants, and a pair of shoes, just like the westerners. His body was well toned from years of combat and training, In his left hand, he gripped a hunter's traditional semi-circular 'War Blade,' and slung on his back was an incredibly thin sword, if you could even call it that. 'Thin' was meant in both senses, for the blade was neither wide nor thick, but slim overall, though Atrum never doubted its sharpness. He sighed as he looked down at the helmet under his right arm, remembering again what started this little escapade in the first place…
A 5 year old shrieked in terror as the window of his home was shattered, the shape of a wolf blasting through it. The wall collapsed as the window was torn out, too small of an entrance for the beast. A man in his early forties leapt from his spot near the fireplace, grabbing a hatchet he had used earlier that day while a woman ran towards the cupboard, frantically searching through it, grabbing the sharpest tools she could find and flinging them at the beast. Their efforts proved futile as the beast shook off the various projectiles and impaled the man with its sharpened claws. As it stood up, the boy could see its form, humanlike, with three horns atop its head. Throwing him off towards one side, the monster made its way towards the woman who was now shaking with tears. With a single swipe, the wolf demon split her in two, tearing off a support beam in the process. The building collapsed, and the wolf fled.
Later, Atrum had learned that the wolf was actually a Fel Werewolf, an interesting creation of the Burning Legion. How the orcs had managed to summon one, if it was even them in the first place, he did not know, but it had haunted him for many years. It was then that a he swore to avenge his parents' deaths and kill the beast. That was how he had ended up with his helmet, about five and a half years ago. It was also how he had ended up with his curse. Although his demonically charged war blade managed to weaken the magical attributes of the creature, its bite was still deadly effective. Though managed to remedy himself with the help of a Potionsmaster before he had gained any of the demon's physical traits, the beast's curse had still managed to corrupt him. A definite fact was that now, half of his soul was that of a demon werewolf, and it changed him a little. For one, every now and then Atrum tended to howl at the moon. Another was that the smell of blood often stirred an animal-like rage in him, something he had managed to control over time. But the last and worst change was the fact that on a full moon, part of him would be lost to the wolf, and he would only have half the control he usually would. This caused many problems, because inns had kicked him out for being too rowdy, women and little children had fled from his presence, and he kept being arrested by those bloody paladins! He never did like them, you know. The Silver Hand was pretty high on his list of things to hate. Nope, he didn't like them at all. Well, maybe Uther… but that was only because he gave him that apple pie that one time when he was younger…
Atrum closed his eyes sighed again "Ah… sweet, sweet pie… where art thou when I need you the most?"
"Obviously not here" came a rough dog-like voice from behind him. Atrum's eyes shot open, but in vain. A quick swipe to his neck set him to sleep, and the Gnolls dragged him away.
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Torva was a forest troll, a very miserable one at that. For you see, he was an outcast berserker. A captured outcast berserker. A starving captured outcast berserker. The damned Gnolls hadn't fed him in 3 days. The idiots continued to ask for ransoms from his tribe. But the elders and chieftain had already thrown him out a couple of days before his capture, and no one cared about what happened to him. As far as he could tell, Torva would be rotting in this cage for a very long time.
"Ugh… dis be hell…" Torva looked towards the entrance of the Gnoll encampment. Some unlucky bastard was being dragged in by the lil' hairballs. The troll turned to shout towards another cage "Ey! Ey, blondie! Wake up, mon! Da Gnolls be bringin' in a new guy!"
A male elf awoke from his slumber, rattling the cage he was being held in. Annoyed, he turned back towards the troll.
"My name is Rowan, you bloody oaf! And how the hell should I know? What do you take me for, a magician?" the last part came out as more of a grumble than a shout.
As they threw him into his cage, Atrum awoke with a yelp. He ran his hands around himself wildly, searching for his equipment, but it was gone. He had been stripped of all weapons and armor beforehand.
'Great…' he thought. The Gnoll that threw him in turned to him and began to speak in what sounded like Common.
"What be your name, Huee-mann" Atrum frowned. He hated Gnolls. They reminded him of warped and twisted wolves. Contrary to normal wolves, which surprisingly, he had a slight liking towards. Perhaps it was because they had aided him in the killing of the demon wolf… but no matter.
"Atrum. Atrum Everto." The Gnoll growled and made its way back to the others. Atrum sighed. This was going to be a long day… He looked around and realized he had company. An elf and a troll were next to him, the troll being the closest.
"Yo, mon. Who you be?"
"Atrum… what about you two?"
"Tha' guy ova the' be.. Roh…wahn" the troll seemed to struggle with the name. At this, the elf smirked.
The one named Rowan gave a quick wave to Atrum "Pleased to meet you. Please, you've got to help us get out of here. No one else is coming for us… we're going to starve to death if this goes on much longer! Not to mention that for each second that I spend here, I lose another portion of my sanity…"
"He be right, mon. Dese Gnolls smell like chieftain on bad day... chieftain known fo' even makin' be'zerke'z go crazee." He frowned to emphasize his point "Oh, by dee way, I'm Torva." Atrum's eyebrows quirked at the name.
"Is that your real name?" He asked. Torva laughed.
"No, no… was given to me by som' human a lil befo' I was ou'casted. Since den, I use it 'stead o my real name."
"Ah, I see. Any idea of what it means?"
"No, mon."
"It means 'wild,' Torva."
"Oooh…Sweeeet, mon. But how you know tha'?"
"It's from an ancient language used by the Titans called Satornarro. I've studied it a little."
"Ah.. coo'… So wha we do 'bout gettin' outta here?"
Atrum paused. There was little that he could do, actually. Some of his magic still worked, but in a cramped space like this, there was little use for it. "Hmm…" he thought for a moment as both the troll and elf looked at him curiously. He looked up at the sky, and his eyes widened. By the stars, he was in luck! The shadow of a full moon floated in the sky, hidden behind blue and white. "Guys, I've got an idea. But we'll have to wait till night. So just sit tight till then, alright?" Torva looked thoughtful for a moment, but then nodded and settled into his cage. Rowan just raised an eyebrow and turned away with a scowl. With one final glance at the others, the hunter turned away, deciding to take a rest and save his energy.
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Night came fast. Atrum might have forgotten to wake up if not for the wolf in him. The Moon was now high up in the dark starry sky, hidden beneath some cloud cover. He turned to Torva and Rowan, whom were both now sound asleep. Rattling his cage, he tried to get their attention.
"Torva! Rowan! Wake up!" He spoke in whispered shouts that almost came out as hisses. The troll was quick to wake, but they seemed to have no such luck with Rowan. He was stuck in a deep slumber, something Atrum had come to long for every now and then.
"Ey, mon. Da elf be sleepin' like a Dwarf. Looks like we be leavin'im behind, ya? " Torva didn't seem to mind this much, but Atrum found difficulty in condemning people to the same fate his parents suffered. Thus, he had no choice but to find some way to save the elf.
"…When I break our cages open, you sling him over your should and start running. I'll take care of the Gnolls." Torva stared at the human as though he'd grown a second head. Atrum gave it no heed; he was too busy staring at the clouds shielding the moon.
"Wha's wrong wit you, mon! You be crazy?" Atrum managed a glance towards Torva, finding the troll to be seriously questioning his reasoning "You walk in 'ere—no, wai', sorry, you ge' yo sorry as' dragged in 'ere, knocked ou', 'alf dead, stripped o' ya armor, and now you espec' ta take on da ho' Gnoll tribe by yo'self? A'least lemme help, you foo'! Na' even da suicida's do dis shi'!" Torva's rant had not even gotten a flinch out of the calm and cool hunter. His eyes continued to follow the trail of the clouds, watching the moon and showing no signs of wavering. The troll growled at his apparent lack of attention "You even listenin' to meh, mon!"
Atrum responded in an odd manner "…They caught me off guard last time. It won't happen again…besides… Tonight, the wolves are on my side…" his voice was detached and he himself was focused on something else. "Look…" he said "The clouds are almost gone. The moon will rise from her hiding place… and the children of the night will walk this earth once more…"
"Wha?.. You be nuts, mon" Torva looked upon his fellow prisoner with confusion. What the hell was he talking about? He, however, found it best not to ask, and simply sat and watched as a strange transformation overtook the human.
The moment the light of the moon made contact with the hunter's eyes, Atrum perked up, his eyes becoming a milky white as the pupils within them shrunk into nothing, followed by an eerie red glow that reminded Torva of an Ogre full of Bloodlust. His jaw was left hanging, mouth half open as a hint of drool began to drip out the side. His back suddenly lurched downwards, curling itself, as did his fingers, making it seem as if his hands were clawed. With his knees slightly bent, Atrum stalked around his cage for a moment, before stopping and looking directly at the moon. Without any warning, he let loose a frighteningly loud and bone chilling howl.
With another roar of feral rage, the former human shot a fist through the side of the cage, breaking it open and making his way to the other cages, where he followed suite with his previous actions. Torva, now free, quirked an eyebrow at Atrum. The berserker opened his mouth to say something, but found himself at a loss for words. Seeing no further reason to waste time, he went over to pick up sleeping elf, and ran off into the night, with said magical being slung over his shoulder, bobbing his head up and down.
Atrum followed the pair as they made their way through the encampment. It had only been a few seconds afterwards that three of four Gnolls ran out from their tents, firing off arrows and running towards them with their clubs. The troll had been trained to dodge the arrows with ease, but the elf over his shoulder had slowed him down, and it was beginning to become very difficult to maneuver. By now, all nine Gnolls in the encampment, including the leader, had shown themselves. With the firepower of the five crossbowmen, the strength and speed of three brutes, and their chieftain to lead them, it seemed like Torva and Rowan wouldn't be able to make it out of the camp.
Of course, the site of Atrum launching two fully grown Gnolls into the wild blue yonder expressed a very different opinion on the matter.
It was amazing how such a puny human ripped through the ranks of the wild dogs. In many ways did he fight like a wolf, pouncing on his enemy, clawing at them, dodging each arrow and swing with fluid grace and harmonized motion, each movement leading into the next, as if he had the entire fight planned from the very beginning. An arrow flew past his face, and what would have been a fatal blow became the downfall of another Gnoll. Atrum somehow managed a backflip and landed on top of the beast's head, using his legs to grab a firm hold of its neck, and letting his momentum do the rest. The Gnoll was flung backwards into one of its companions.
Satisfied with his work, Atrum allowed himself a wicked grin before turning to survey the remaining forces. Two Gnolls were left standing, the Chieftain and what appeared to be his best warrior. Atrum frowned and turned his back on them, they weren't worth his time. Had he turned his head back one more, he would have seen the dogs praying to some Creep god, thanking it for its mercy.
The troll berserker had lain the elf down behind a tree, and turned to look back on the battle, amazed with Atrum's abilities. Atrum himself wasn't all too proud of it. Living with the soul of a feral wolf was more of a curse than a blessing. Catching up with Torva, the hunter attempted to speak, now calmed from being out of the moon's shine, under the shadowy cover of trees.
"Toh..! Torva!" Atrum paused to catch his breathe "Are you alright? How's Rowan?"
The troll turned to look at him with an amused look. He nodded his head in the direction of Rowan, who was still fast asleep, set down next to a mossy tree trunk. With a hearty laugh, the berserker made his way towards Atrum, a wide grin on his face.
"We be fiiiine, mon, don joo even worreh 'bout it. Da blondie ova heah, he slep' thru da who'e thin, an' it was smoo' sailin' from theh on. I gotta say tho, dee foo' iz moh coo-op'rativ when he ou' cold." Torva's grin began to spasm out infectious giggles as Atrum's battle-ready form slumped backwards, his head falling with it as he and Torva launched into full blown laughter. After a minute or so, the merry mood died down and the night fell silent once more. A few more moments of silences led Torva to attempt a conversation.
"So… we free now. Wa'chu gonna do now, mon?" Torva quirked an eyebrow at Atrum. The Hunter looked up at him momentarily. The dead of the night obscured most everything about Torva. The shape of a troll and a mesh of green were the only distinguishable features he could make out. Maybe tomorrow, he'd get a better look…
With a yawn, the man thought deeply about his current goals. This wasn't very difficult, seeing as he had none, other than staying alive and managing a meaningful existence. But in the end… what was left for him here? He had no friends; the paladins were constantly after his tail… almost every inn and tavern in the area knew of his curse. All he had left was the wild and the wolves… and of course…these people. Rowan and Torva, two folks that now owed him their lives. Something he'd never admit too. Whoever these folks were, they didn't look like they belonged in the civilized world. No, perhaps he could live with them for a little while. Torva obviously didn't care about his… 'problem,' and Rowan would have to come to accept it anyway, so…why not? He'd give it a shot. 14 years of demon hunting and look where he's at now. The time for work was over, he'd enjoy life again with his new…friends. What a foreign word. He'd have to fix that in the near future.
"To tell you the truth, Torva… I don't have any plans. You?" He looked over at his companion.
The trolled eyed him with a bemused expression "Joo kiddin' me, mon? Dis place be infested wi'h zombiez. I's hahd 'nuff jus to su'vive 'roun' heeyah" He nodded his head to emphasize the point. Atrum perked up at his answer.
"Then.. if you're interested, I've been looking for some… company. You know, party members. I figure I could take on bigger and better jobs if I had more people with me… ya know." He looked at the berserker with a half-smile. Torva raised an eyebrow and stared at him for some time before answering.
"Ah, I see mon… so, lemme clarify dis. Joo askin' me to join ya in…waz it dat joo do, mon?"
"Uhm.. Demon hunting, mostly"
"Ya, yah... dee'mon hun'tin…joo wan' a pahtneh in jo professhin?"
"Yeah. You…and Rowan too, I guess." He said, a little nervous and unsure.
Torva look up at the sky and chuckled a little "Well, you betta be thankin jo lucky stah'z. I'll work foh ya, buh wit a small price."
The human nodded. "Of course."
"Den iz settled. Nice to meetchu, pahtneh." Torva grinned again and extended a hand in friendship.
Atrum smiled and shook it vigorously "Likewise." Afterwards the two sat down, and enjoyed the starry expanse as the Goddess Elune painted her dark blue night.
…
" 'Ey mon.."
"Yeah?"
Torva paused for a moment "…I tink we sittin' unda a bee hive…"
"…Shit!"
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Phew! Wow! Off to a quick start…I'd say that's good. So what did you think, folks? R&R please. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and if you're going to flame me, at least have a good reason and a decent argument. My recycle bin doesn't like the taste of stupidity.
Satornarro – The Latin words Sator and Narro put together. It means Creator-Speak, or more specifically, the language of the Titans.
