Story Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Warcraft franchise by Blizzard Entertainment/Activation Blizzard beyond my own original character(s). This is purely a work of personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy Metzen or Richard A or any of the greats that have tackled Warcraft. I fully welcome constructive criticism. The story will be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no schedule. Please review as I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story.
Introduction: To give some backstory I started playing World of Warcraft from early release and played quite religiously up until Cataclysm where I began playing on and off again on a far more casual basis, progressively playing less and less after the release of Pandaria. I don't play the MMO currently and (although I did finish leveling in Legion) have no intention on returning, but still thoroughly enjoy the story. All of this being said with 10+ years of WoW under my belt I have many interesting stories to tell filled with plenty of drama and adventure. So why not write about it? Why not have a story based on my own experience?
This is that. The main character of this story will be based on my actual main in-game character with heavy influence from my own personality and in case of other OC's the many varied personalities I had the pleasure or displease of meeting over the years. The main character will do/accomplish nothing that I haven't done myself in-game (clearing lvl60 raids at lvl110 doesn't count as having done it) and any major events that I never took part in will simply be referenced as other 'heroes' accomplishments. In some cases (like Deathwing) you'll find I may attribute kills to an army rather than 10 puny mortals. I like a degree of realism in my tales. My OC is nobody special. He isn't related to anyone special. He isn't anyone of importance, at the start at least, as the story develops he may achieve things of note that earn him some perks within certain circles. I was a haft decent raider on occasion. That being said most of the story is told from the PoV of being a solider, mercenary or adventurer as opposed to a war hero or a demigod. I don't like invincible characters. I doubt anyone will have plot armor. You can expect Game of Throne level dangers.
Please leave a review and tell me what you think. The writing style is ultimately a lot more 'laid back' and at times brakes the forth wall in an attempt at light humor. In my head it's my character writing this after a lifetime of adventure so a lot of things are explained in context rather than thought, since he's writing down his own experiences and tends to get distracted at points. This hole 'project' is ultimately me typing town 10+ years worth of stories; with a little flair for story purposes.
I hope some of you enjoy these chapters, they'll aim to cover my time with the game.
Thanks for reading
- SoulGamesInc
Chapter 1: Prologue
Time was an unyielding mistress. Looking back now, everything had changed since he'd first learnt to hunt. Hunting turned to fighting and fighting turned to leading and eventually leading turned to an overwhelming sense of boredom with what seemed to be ever repeating events. A threat would arrive, then they'd fight it and he'd survive by some undeserved miracle usually while his friends died left and right like flies. He'd lost enough for one life. More than enough.
There was one exception, resting peacefully to his left without a care in this world. The drake would outlive him for many years, he knew, taking some comfort in the fact that while he was rotting in the ground one day there would be somebody left to remember him. It brought a smile to his lips. "Stupid drake." The thought was born of mirth as he smiled at his last remaining companion. "I'll be dead and you'll finally be free of me, off to torment some other poor bastard..."
That thought was accompanied by a light chuckle at his own expense, enough to stir the drake from it's slumber as a large star-like white eye opened from whatever dream the beast was experiencing. If it was annoyed by it's awaking, it didn't seem to show it. The drakes head remained resting on the cold stone, watching silently.
Onyxien was her name and she rarely spoke, patient as stone and twice as stubborn. She'd inherited that from her grandfather.
"Good morning Ony." The man placed a hand on the drakes head, patting it like a common dog.
She gave a snot of annoyance in reply and closed her star-like eyes.
"Talkative as always." The man remarked with a roll of his eyes, a smirk still on his lips.
Looking out at the horizon he simply enjoyed the peace and silence of the world. Light snows fell from the sky and melted on his dark ebony hair, the chilled winds of the mountain on occasion proving a nuisance. The pair were used to the cold. These fair snows brought back old memories that were warm and pleasant compared to those of Icecrown that too often brought the opposite. Onyxien had been thought that with him and barely lived to tell the tale, but both were too stubborn to fall there.
"Storms coming." He said simply, to himself if not the drake. The clouds were growing restless in the morning sun as the numerous tiny ants below scurried about under them around market stools; doubtless wondering if moving into the mountain was for the best. A heavy rain around these parts too often caused snowfall, although ultimately harmless, a dwarf buried alive in snow was not an ideal thing and they tended to avoid it. It was funny however. That much it was.
"If I throw a coin from up here," The man asked, equal parts amused and bored. "think it would kill a guy?"
Onyxien opened one eye and seemed to give a look that suggested something about pushing him off to see.
"Your no fun." The man sighed. She wasn't either, bloody stubborn dragon. She got that from her grandfather who just so happened to be Neltharion. Yeah, that one. Otherwise know as Deathwing The Destroyer, Aspect of Death, The Worldbreaker and The Black Scourge, among other titles he didn't care to recall. Not that she cared. The black dragon wasn't exactly grandfather of the year since the whole Old Gods and sequence of events that lead to what was known as the Cataclysm.
Good times. Still. Looking back though his history everything seemed more perfect than it may have actually been. He'd often tell people tales of how great it was back in the day as if he was some eighty year old man boring his grandchildren. If he had grandchildren. Or children at all for that matter...
He was daydreaming again. He did that a lot these days. Spoke to himself too, but he wasn't crazy. He'd had that checked.
The return from Outland had been practically busy. He blamed that on Ony, since she tended to stand out. His own people looked at her and saw a strange and dangerous black dragon. Meanwhile the other dragon flights were curious, to say the least, once Deathwing returned the questions and suspicion only grew twice over.
Onyxien shuffled lazily on the grey stone, displacing a fine layer of snow that had begun to build on her dark midnight wings.
She was beautiful as far as dragons went. As dark as midnight with eyes that shun brightly on wings of twisting nether, a horn of crystal and claws alike that had seen to the demise of more than few enemies over the years. He'd often complain, like a man far older than he, that the days before personal flight were more filled with adventure. Onyxien had only once addressed this, claiming her rider would finally go as mad as her grandfather if he was ever forced to use a horse again.
She was right. He'd miss the open sky and the freedom far too much, up in the clouds without a care in the world.
"There was that one time with the fireball." His mind wondered thoughtfully, recalling once being chased by a mages fireball for what seemed like hours. It must have been some powerful mage at that, willing the spell to follow a drake at such speeds. He'd never seen the casters face. If he had, he'd have put an arrow through it. The memory did bring another smile though. Just about everything in his past seemed to do that, even the bad times. He'd lost near every last drop of family in this world and yet even those deaths brought a smile. His friends, men and women that had quickly become a second family of sorts, brought one too. Funny how his mind worked.
Stare at death long enough and it seemed to become less daunting. It was a friend of sorts in it's own strange way, he supposed, a bloody morbid thought to be had if there ever was one. It made the smirk vanish into a frown. "Old Gods got nothing on me." He said aloud, before bursting into a laugh that could only be declared as insane.
Old Gods. There was another story. The frozen wastes of Northrend held more than undead and giant bugs when they'd arrived to bring the Lichking to heel. Those had been one of the few times he'd taken an active role in the Alliances campaign. His own father had been from Lordaeron. When given the chance, he'd jumped to avenge the land his father spoke so proudly about. He grew up in Stormwind, so it was never his home in truth, but his father wasn't around to sign up himself. What choice was there?
"I never should've gone." He cursed aloud with a sigh. He didn't doubt that victory would have been achieved without him, what little he actually did, it was never his blade that finished things. He'd never been the hero in truth, only a soldier in other peoples wars or a wanderer minding his own business. Nothing special. Sure he'd earned some respect over the years and earned his share of the glory, but he wasn't the one songs were written about. That honor usually went to the dead.
That and countless other tales were all in the past. Sweet and bitter memories on a scale more deserved by better men than he, while some of those very men had died in his place, he often thought of writing everything down in a book. After all his days of excitement were over now. The world was at peace, ignoring the petty squabbles between the Alliance and Horde. War never changed. There would be more wars in the future, certainly, but nothing... earth... shattering...
He blinked. Were those storm clouds always green? Surely not.
Onyxien rose her head and spoke. "Curious."
Curious? That was it? There was concern masked behind her strangely innocent voice, an odd trait for the granddaughter of Deathwing. She rarely spoke and when she did her words always demanded ones undivided attention. The mans eyes narrowed at the growing storm. "Well." He sighed, grasping his bow from the stone to his right and fastening it to his back. "Never mind." The distinct glow of fel magic was the first tip. The giant balls of green flame the second. The ships the third, and most obvious by far.
"Legion." Onyxien growled, her sweet and tame demeanor long gone as she unfurled her wings and met the challenge with a truly terrifying roar that would leave most mortals stunned. She'd gotten that from her grandfather too. Shaking away the sleep in her bones she stretched and allowed her friend onto her fine leather saddle.
She'd hated that saddle at first, but flying without one had proven a mostly comical challenge.
A quiver and longsword were strapped tightly to the saddle as he secured himself on the drakes back, loading a single arrow into position, prepared for a fight. Onyxien took a step forward as her claw edged over the great stone gate that was her perch, pushing herself forward into the air as the cold winds lifted her towards the coming storm. A distant horn sounded in front of them. "Harooooooooooooooooooooo," it cried, it's voice as long and low and chilling as the cold and bitter winds. Onyxien let a roar answer in reply as more trumpets sounded, "da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA." They flew towards Kharanos. They flew to yet another bloody adventure.
Onyxien dodged one of the many fallen infernal balls of fel fire, with a grace that her lack of armor allowed. Her rider unleashed a string of arrows at numerous small imps below as they flew overhead. "Set me down!" He yelled thought the rushing winds that battered his face. Ony complied, swooping low enough for him to leap off her saddle.
Rolling on impact her rider prepared another arrow, this one engraved with markings that shun a dim blue. It exploded in a flash of white light upon striking it's target, taking those demons nearby down with it. "Harooooooooooooooooooooo," another horn demanded his attention, turning to see a handful of dwarven griffon riders swoop down and pick up smaller demons in their talons before taking them high and letting gravity do the rest. The inhabitants of the town fled around them, some taking up arms.
"Lad!" A familiar dwarven voice cut through the chaos of battle.
Turning, the rider saw the cause for concern. A broad shouldered, muscled Felguard standing at some eight feet with a twisted curved and ugly axe. It's skin was red with shades of black as it released a terrifying battle cry and swung it's axe towards the human. He ducked and rolled aside, narrowly escaping the blow.
He used the sharpened blades forged across the length of his bow to slice at the demons legs, before tossing the bow aside.
The demon roared angrily at the offence and if it was harmed by the action, it wasn't going to show it. "Arrrhhh!" The rider drew his long sword from the scabbard on his waist and brought the steel up to deflect another blow from the demon, now facing him and determined to rid itself of the pest here and there.
He was pushed back some distance by the clash of metal and muscle, the demon far beyond his strength.
Not that it would stop a dwarf mind you. "TASTE MY AXE!" One of them screamed, leaping up onto the demons back and planting a heavy battle-axe deep between a gap in the monsters plated hide. The human took it's opening as the demon drooped to one knee and cried out. Now within easy reach, the humans steel sliced through his foes neck.
Muttering some curse as the demon choked on it's own flow of blood, it fell to the snow with a thud.
The dwarf roared at his part in the kill and the human rider fought among the other defenders, swinging wildly and dodging like he was born to it. He would dodge and lunge for the joints in his foes armor while taking off chucks of demon flesh like a man possessed. The tide never seemed to stem however as they continued moving onto new challengers. He slashed at another Felguard, shorter this time, rending the chest with a back-swing before driving his steel into and out the back of the demons skull. With a grunt he pushed his sword free before ducking under the swing of another large battleaxe. The demon in question didn't seem to care that in missing he'd accidentally embedded his axehead inside the stomach of a fellow Felguard that happened to be standing behind the human; in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The chaos of battle continued as the rider, having picked up his bow once more, continued to pick off smaller demons from a distance.
"INCOMING!" That cry was the last thing he heard before the world seemed to shake. It reminded him of the cataclysm in a way and for a moment he feared the light had forsaken them all and somehow deathwing had survived. An impossible thought, but his mind often wandered. It wasn't deathwing, naturally, but a giant pitlord.
A hulking creature with a massive humanoid torso. Monstrous tusks jutting out from a fanged mouth, and a long thick tail thundered behind a huge frame. A mane of living fire ran down his spine between sinewy, leathery wings. He swung a warblade in his hands. A handful of tiny dwarves flew through the sky as the blow connected.
The human found himself dazed, on the cold snow covered floor. Looking up as the pitlord seemed to take interest in his weakened state.
A forest of needle-like teeth seemed to smile down at him. "Well." The human said aloud, hand absently wandering to his bow. "Your an ugly bastard." If the demon understood he couldn't say, but it raised up the giant warblade in one hand and prepared to land the killing blow. If not for the dragon that clawed at it's face.
"Ony." The human smiled as he watched his friend claw and bite at the demons eyes. Funny. That was all the man thought as Onyxien pushed herself off and processed to dodge gracefully around the pitlords clumsy attempts to swat her from the sky. He supposed his tale started here. He wondered if it would end here too.
It was many years ago, before the legion and the cataclysm and the lichking and every other earth shattering event he'd ever gotten himself into, back when he was nothing but a twenty-something human in a town of drunken dwarves. The drunk part shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that knows the race of short and proud warriors, but a human hunter in Dun Morogh wasn't exactly common. The hunter part either actually. Most were either back home farming or serving the Alliance in some form.
He on the other hand left home the moment he could ride a horse, stealing his fathers coin for a ticket on the deep tram all the way to Ironforge and the coldness of the dwarven kingdom. Who could blame him for taking a liking to the ale? It was a necessity. A stalwart defense against the bitter winter winds.
"Another!" A dwarf called out to the bartender, downing another tankard of thick brown ale that in part seemed to feed the drinkers beard as much as it did the dwarf himself. They were a queer race, but by the light did he enjoy the company. He'd never looked back once. This was his home now and a fine one it was.
"Llane." The same dwarf spoke his name, pushing a fresh tankard towards him.
He took it gladly while ignoring the use of his first name. His father had apparently honored him with it, naming his first born after King Llane Wrynn, although more to honor Stormwind and their new home than anything else. His father fought in the Second and Third wars, losing a leg in the latter and earning a reasonable sum of coin for his long service. Sir Ricard Longfyre was the name he earned by saving a knights life in the thick of battle, getting knighted in return.
It was the highest honor a common solider could hope to earn. One good arrow earned his father a name, not that anyone cared nowadays. Longfyre was not a name known but by those that listened to his fathers tales of glory. He'd taken the old bastards bow when he fled Stormwind. It was gathering dust, seemed a shame to waste it.
"Another!" He called for another refill, earning a cheer from his dwarven companions.
His fathers bow, Longfyre, was resting against the low oaken table. It was a fine and sturdy thing about as good if not better than any common hunter could hope to wield. Nothing out of any legends, sure, but he was hardly legendary. His skill was hard earned. His father often claimed that a trait of his blood, but that was nonsense.
"Cedric is dirt with a bow." The thought make me smile, while the booze certainly helped ease out the laughter that followed, as the mental image of his little brother trying his hand at archery. His father had dismissed the boys failure. Cedric was named for the knight he'd saved, and knights used swords. Thus his brother discarded his bow.
Llane couldn't help but roll his eyes, noting his own sword strapped to his hip. He was decent with a blade too. Just about any weapon actually.
"To my father." He thought, gulping down yet another tankard. The thick brown ale traveled down his throat and in all honestly he could no longer taste the dwarven ale on his tongue nor the hard table when his unconscious head slammed against it with a thud. He slept for a time, dreaming of a homeland he scarcely remembered.
He awoke to the feeling of a wet tongue on his arm and a pounding drum beat in his head.
"Arrrhhh." He groaned, using his arms to get up from the straw covered floor. The stables? He assumed it had to be. Those bastard dwarves must've tossed him in here after he passed out. Llane muttered curses under his breath and pushed away the furry beast that was now pushing him with it's nose. Stupid wolf.
"I'm up," he batted the wolf away. "leave off you mangy bastard."
The wolf feigned hurt, whimpering.
He stared at it. Light tan coat with black obsidian eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief. "Don't give me that pup," he rolled his eyes. "I see right through your tricks. Your hungry." The wolf, who's face was mere inched from Llane, licked him in reply. The beast was hungry. It was best to feed him before he ate something he shouldn't.
Like him for example. He'd tried that once, when he was smaller. "I followed the wolf and sure enough here you are."
The voice was dwarven and familiar, with a great brown beard and green cloak.
"Grif." Llane addressed the dwarf, getting to his feat and dusting himself off. There was a lone ram in the stables with them that all but ignored the uninvited guests. He supposed the thing was used to drunks sleeping on it's straw. "Cant this wait? My heads killing me here..."
"Afraid not lad." Grif replied, as understanding as he could muster. "We've business, and daylights burning."
Llane scoffed. "I'm sure you can handle it, or have you finally lost your aim in that old age of yours?"
It was Grif's turn to scoff. "Customers asking for you."
"Me?" Nobody has ever asked for him. Not by name. Not once...
"Aye," the dwarf confirmed. "asked for Longfyre. Your the only one of those I know lad."
He searched the depths of his memory to recall anyone that might call for him by name. It was a short list of people that knew him and most of those lived in town, able to find him themselves without much fuss. If he wasn't hunting or drinking he was either passed out or at the inn abed. There was that one night elf women...
"It's not the knife ear." Grif seemed to read him like a book.
"That's a relief." Llane admitted. Not that he'd entirely mind seeing her again, she had been extremely attractive after all, but she did also happen to try and put an arrow between his eyes before leaving. "There was a moment there," a toothless smile graced his face. "where I was afraid she'd shown up with some half elf child and-"
Grif laughed in his face. "The whole town knows you struck out lad, don't go fooling me now."
Not for lack of trying. "My father always said all a man needed was confidence." In hindsight he wasn't sure why he ever listened to that man. The elf had responded coldly to his drunken attempts at flirting and after a rather hilarious sting of events that were completely not his fault, she shot at him with an arrow. Crazy women.
"Oh she had confidence alright." Grif waved him over. "Missed you by a hair and that wasn't no coincidence neither I'd say."
Hm. Stupid elves. It was a short walk from the stables to the fur covered tent Grif called home, nestled on the edge of town under a small tree, away from the merchants and busy lives of his neighbors. "So," Llane asked as his eyes darted left to right. "where is this customer of yours Grif?"
"Patience lad." Grif strode through the layer of snow and opened the lap of his tent.
"Hear that Flash?" Llane looked down into the eyes of his pet wolf, who looked right back at him as if understanding. "Patience he says, from the man that once charged head first into a pack of leopards because he was bored of waiting for them to come to us. Idiot near lost an arm, or worse..."
Flash seemed to understand. He let out an amused bark and scratched absently at the snow with his paw.
Grif muttered something about the wolf being too smart for it's own good, before he introduced his costumer. A dwarf. No real surprise there, the opposite would've been more interesting. Maybe a nice female human or a less stubborn elf perhaps... What? He had needs...
"Greetings." Llane addressed the new dwarf is his most professional tone, that just so happened to sound rather convincing if he didn't say so himself. The newcomer was fairly tall for a dwarf he assumed, out of the dwarves he'd seen at least, with a short ginger beard and a worn cloak. He seemed happy to see him.
"Pleasure," the newcomer put out his hand for Llane to gasp, as he did. "names Loch."
Loch? A bloody queer name for a dwarf that, although he supposed a lot of dwarves did seem to prefer short and simple names. Still. Loch? How original. Llane fought the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes at the dwarf. Instead he shook the newcomers hand and replied kindly. "I'm Llane. You asked for me?"
"That I did." Loch released the humans hand.
Reaching down to scratch Flash behind his ear, Llane asked the obvious of the newcomer. As he was essentially working as Grif's assistant he assumed this new dwarf had something he wanted dead, hunted or perhaps wanted archery lessons. The last was a rarity. Most dwarves perfect the simplicity of a gun to a bows more graceful charm.
There was something to be said about that, guns were simple and packed quite the punch. Still they were too loud and often messy for Llane's taste.
"I'd like me a pet." The new dwarf asked, as if it was a simple and common place request.
"A pet?" Llane replied with a blank face.
"Aye." The dwarf eyed Flash curiously.
"I'm afraid the lads no beast master," Grif explained. "that pups wilder than they come. I'd hardly say he's tame..."
He didn't tame Flash. He'd been with him since a mere pup, feeding from a milk socked rag until he was old enough to move onto solid foods. "It's as Grif says," He explained, absently stroking the wolfs fur. "I've had Flash since he was a pup. I wouldn't call him tame, he's just used to people is all. He was never wild to begin with."
The new dwarf seemed disappointed. "I see," He looked between wolf and master. "so you cant help a dwarf out then?"
Llane looked to Grif who simply shrugged in reply. Some help he was. "I could I suppose." Llane opted to say despite the voices in his head telling him this dwarf was none of his business. "I know enough about the local wildlife to help you trap something easily enough. From there, in theory, the process could be done..."
The dwarfs enthusiasm returned. "It's settled then. You'll help me track down a beast, and beat some loyalty into the bugger!"
A crude way of explaining taming, certainly. Flash growled a warning at the use of the word 'beat' and bared his teeth at the dwarf.
"Told you." Grif smirked. "Wild as they come that one, home bred or otherwise."
"He's a good judge of character is all."
"Aye," Grif agreed. "that much I'll give you lad."
The wolf cease growling as quickly as his teeth were shown. The newcomer had taken a step back and held up his hands in what Llane assumed was a mock surrender, fake or no, it seemed enough for Flash to accept it as an apology of sorts. There would be no second chance with the wolf mind you nor would he forgive any attempted beatings.
Llane was reminded of something his father told him the day he'd come home with a newborn wolf cub in his hands. "Wolves are no fools; one has to forge a lasting bond, much like a marriage." He'd looked stern at the time, concern clearly etched on his features. "A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf. Yet alone a child." He'd proven his father wrong. A child could and did despite everything. The same wolf had grown to be the only family he counted on.
Flash bounded off into the snow ahead of them, free and without a care.
"Where's the beast going?" The newcomer asked.
It earned a scowl from Llane. "Helping us."
"Helping?" The newcomer raised a brow.
Llane opted to ignore the dwarf, who's disregard for his friend was beginning to annoy him no small amount. Still he'd help the bastard and be done with it. "Come along master dwarf." He waved lazily for the dwarf to follow him, pulling a dark green cloak around him to fight back the cold winds. "We've hunting to do."
Kharanos was surrounded by the stark wintry wilds of Dun Morogh, adventure a common commodity and as some of the less tenacious folk in town often paid good coin for various tasks in the surrounding region. The town itself was inhabited by many adventurers of Khaz Modan, a cozy overnight stop for many gnomes traveling from the west, as well as some dwarves of Ironforge. Home to a large forge, a gnomish workshop, and the famous Thunderbrew Distillery, the location was quite prosperous.
Llane mostly handled hunting jobs, alongside Griff, providing furs and meats to the folk that lived in the area for a modest and fair price. It kept his skills sharp, mind occupied, and ale in his belly. All in all a good life although it did lack for female company. He didn't mind the dwarven women really, they were friendly enough and all, but he simply wasn't into the idea of... that. And the gnomes? Well. He had no comment on that. Just keep him well out of it. For all its quaint charms, Kharanos was at heart a hub of military activity more often than not, defending against all manner of threats in the region. To the northwest the Frostmane trolls had long since entrenched themselves at Shimmer Ridge. To the west, where Llane and company where heading now, a large cavern was inhabited by fierce Wendigo.
What's a wendigo you ask? Well. Llane just called the buggers Yetis although technically as Grif would so often rant on about, they were in fact a distant relation to the more common yeti. Similar to how Flash was a distant relation to his smaller white cousins that roamed Dun Morogh's forests. Still, to Llane a yeti was just a bloody a yeti.
They bled the same after all, as evident by the arrow shaft sticking out of this ones less than intelligent brain.
*Thud*
"Ha!" The newcomer cheered as the beast dropped to the snow like a puppet without strings. "Fine shot. I see why they call you Longfyre!"
It was not all that impressive really. These creatures had little defense and moved like snails for the most part, it stood no chance and thanks to the silence of a bow the yetis kin were none the wiser. "Keep an eye out." Llane moved from his crouched pose, swinging Longfyre over his back and drawing a fine skinning knife. It's fur would fetch a decent price and again, thanks to the lack of gunshot, the hide was in near perfect condition. Guns had a nasty effect of leaving a mess.
At least dwaven firearms did. Not that he'd ever seen non-dwarven arms mind you, they were the masterminds of such creations, built for stopping power and little else hence his preference for the classics. Not to mention he could make arrows. He couldn't make pellets for a gun. That difference was more crucial than most thought.
"Why the snow monster?" The newcomer asked, curious, as he watched him skin the creature.
"Bait." Llane explained, carving out the hide, separating the skin from the flesh with skilled precision while Flash kept a watchful eye out for onlookers. Man or beast. There was bound to be other yeti. "If we're looking to tame a carnivore we'll need fresh bait to-" Wait. Were they looking for a carnivore? "Um." He paused everything. "Loch, was it?"
Loch gave a nod. "Aye."
"We are looking for a carnivore, correct?"
Silence. Until the dwarf burst into laughter. "Aye," He assured. "I was thinking a great bloody bear of sorts, if we can manage."
A bear? Easy enough to find and usually alone. Any in a family unit would be all but impossible to tame due to just how protective they could be but a lone bear? Ideally one hungry or already wounded in some manner. It sounded cruel, but the weaker the beast the easier the catch. "It wont be an issue, Loch."
The dwarf seemed content and perhaps even happy with the use of his name. He gave a firm nod.
Finishing off the skinning and packing the results away for later the time had come to track down a suitable specimen. Llane thought he knew just the option. A young bear he'd sighted on a hunt barely a few days past. "Heh." Llane thought with an amused smirk. "Bear-ly. Get it?" He kept that hilarious nonsense to himself.
The bear in question lived along the northern most mountains in a small but cozy cave. The quickest although far from the safest route to this destination was straight north and past the Shimmer Ridge. The issue there was the well known fact that said ridge was swarmed Frostmane trolls, who grew Shimmer Weed, used in an ale of sorts if Llane recalled correctly. That was beside the point, they'd need to carefully avoid those trolls and with any luck that's exactly what they'd get away with.
Knowing his luck? He doubted it would be that easy. Great wolves and snow leopards stalked the forests, and troggs and Frostmane trolls spent their days setting ambush spots. Ferocious bears, otherwise known as the things they were seeking, were known to live in the mountainside. Dwarves used to have to battle few monsters in their own homeland, but things change. Dun Morogh had not seen true peace in decades. It kept one busy at the least.
"Trolls." Llane snarled, akin to Flash's own low growl.
"Let's take em!" Loch suggested, eagerly holding his rifle.
"I like living." Llane dismissed the notion. He could see the trolls, with white-blueish skin with even whiter hair. Standing far taller than the average human they stuck an imposing figure even from afar. Distance and stealth were key. They had numbers. Llane had his bow, a wolf, and an over eager dwarf wielding a very loud gun.
"I still say we can take em!" The dwarf was very sure of himself.
"Perhaps." Llane agreed, they could, the fight would be a hard one but ultimately he'd be confident of victory and a swift get away before other could arrive to outnumber them. Still. "We are not here to hunt trolls, or do you perchance wish to tame yourself one? I'm afraid that's out of my area of expertise, my short friend."
The dwarf scoffed. "The bears probably smarter anyway..."
Llane smirked. "Smells better too no doubt."
"Ah," Loch let out a hushed laugh. "don't know. A good bath should sort out the stink."
As amusing a concept as bathing a troll was to Llane, he urged the group onward. Around the ridge and carefully away from the trolls reach. Leaving the ice lake to the west behind them and heading north up to the mountains. The cave would be there. The weakened bear too if they were lucky. A different one if not.
"We keep moving," Llane raised his voice to be heard over the wind. "The cave should be a little higher. I think..."
"Ya think?" The dwarf let loose a chuckle. "I thought you knew where the beast was?"
"In the mountains."
The was helpful, he knew. In truth it was anyone's guess were exactly the beast was at present.
"Flash will smell the bastard out!" Llane cursed at the wind as it blew back his hood to reveal his short jet black hair, ignoring it and soldiering onward up the mountainside with his annoying dwarven companion. "If we don't find anything soon, we should turn back and-" It was sound logic. Up until the gunshot.
"Down lad!" The dwarf cried out, raising his rifle high.
Llane ducked just in time, the rounds hitting a hulking form in front of him and sending it reeling backwards with an angered growl. "Shit." Llane cursed through the winds. How he'd let that sneak up on him was anyone guess. It wasn't the bear he'd hoped for, by any stretch. This was the biggest, ugliest bastard he'd laid eyes on.
The dwarf however was oddly happy to see the monster, towering above them both on it's hind legs. A bulky, furry, four-legged killing machine.
*Bang*
Loch unloaded a round and the giant bear, patches of blood tainting it's otherwise pristine while fur.
*Bang*
Another round. The bear roared, furious.
"I'M OUT!" The dwarf cried. "RELOADING!"
If this was a truly intelligent foe the dwarf would've just given away the prime target. Instead of rushing for the dwarf however the beast decided to strike for the closest threat. Llane. A large white paw of death rose up above him as he stumbled back and desperately gasped for his sword in a blind panic. His hands numb from the cold.
A brown blur crashed into the bear, saving Llane from what may well have been an early grave.
"Flash!" He cried at the sight as the wolf, it's jaws clamped around the bears mighty paw, was flung like a child's toy across the battlefield. Alive or so Llane hoped. It gave him an opening that he was not willing to waste. He drove his blade into the exposed bears underbelly and kicked back to free the steel from it's new sheath.
"For Khaz ModaaaaaAAAAAAAAAN!" Loch's voice rang. The dwarf had dropped his rifle, having apparently given up on reloading the weapon, instead now swinging a one-handed axe with all his might at the bears rear legs. It sunk deep into the bears flesh and cut through muscle and fat until it reached bone.
The roar of agony the bear loosed was all too sweet. It backed away from the human and dwarf, wary and in pain.
"Let's end it!" The dwarf cried, swinging his axe in warning at the beast.
"Agreed." Llane snarled.
Flash has since limped back to his master, hurt, but very much alive.
"Strike when it comes for me." He loaded an arrow into Longfyre and aimed it true, striking the bears hide and angering it further. It could attempt escape or it could blindly rush them. The latter seemed just as likely and neither human nor dwarf was willing to let this bastard escape. Another arrow stuck the bear, and it charged.
So many tons of fat, fur and muscle roared defiantly towards the pair. The beast would end it's enemy here and-
Llane side-stepped. Loch brought his axe down as the beast passed, and the bear collapsed with a cry as pain shot through it's system. Crimson strokes stained the snows around them and a dark black-red pool began to form around the tired and wounded monster. It's attempts to get back on it's feat proved futile.
The human and dwarf stood over the kill as a single sword thrust ended it's suffering.
"Well." Loch said with a toothless smile.
"Well." Llane repeated, catching his breath for a moment.
Flash howled, long and deep. It wasn't the victory they sought but it was one well earned.
The pair of hunters laughed heartily as the snows fell heavily and seemed to begins lowly wiping away the signs of battle. All that remains was the corpse of the once might beast and the pool of dark crimson too warm for the snows to settle. The kill was too large for them to move alone. It seemed a shame to leave it however...
"It would make a fine trophy." The dwarf suggested, resting his axe over one shoulder.
"No time." Llane argued, the voice of reason it seemed in an otherwise chaotic group. "All this blood will attract wolves soon enough, and not the friendly kind neither. Flash is hurt besides. I'll not risk his health for the sake of one bear... no matter the size." He'd leave the dwarf here if necessary. Flash was family. The dwarf was nobody.
"Aye," Loch surprising agreed, eyeing the wolf with what appeared to be some pity. "suppose your right. A good fight though."
A good fight. That it was, and one of the closer ones of his life oddly enough considering the horrors he'd come to face. In truth looking back that measly bear should've been a pathetic fight by the standards the future set... yet it was one he remembered fondly. One of his first with the dwarf. It was a good fight.
They'd returned to town as the sun began to set. The dwarf was short his desired pet, true, but he seemed content enough with the hunt even without the beasts pelt to prove the kill to others. Not that it stopped him talking. This new dwarf loved his tall tales, Llane quickly learned, sitting in the inn listening with disbelief.
"There we were, at the peak of the mountain!"
"Hardly anywhere close." Llane thought, nursing his tankard of Thunderbrew.
"Out of the storm, fierce as any I've seen, came a beast three times the size of the average bear!" Loch continued his tale as the inn gathered around him. "I swear on me mother lads, it was none other than the fabled Gorilla Bear that attacked us! It's fang were the length of swords! It's claws? Daggers!"
"Ah," One of the patrons scoffed. "your full of it."
"Now now," another argued. "I've heard the tales before. Could be some truth to it..."
"What say you Longfyre?" The innkeep asked, silencing the rest as the eagerly awaited the humans account.
Llane looked at at Flash, resting peacefully on the stone floor. His wounds had been little but a sprained rip or two and he'd make a full recovery with a little rest from the hunt. "It was-" He paused. What harm did the tall tale do, truly? "as he says. Never seen a beast so large. No ordinary bear for sure."
"Ha!" Loch exclaimed. "See? Those of ye that doubted our tale. Shameful."
They continued to argue and drink for as long as the average dwarf tended to. And in Llane's first hand experience that tended to be a sizable amount time. It was Grif's voice that snapped him from his tankard and wondering thoughts. "Lad." He taped the human on his back to get attention. "A courier left this for you."
It was a letter, or a document of some sort. The seal was unbroken and bore no noticeable marking.
"Maybe it's child support from that elf?" Grif laughed to himself as he went to take his favorite seat at the bar.
"Bastard." Llane muttered.
He broke the seal and read it's contents, once, twice, three times.
"Dear Llane,"
That caused him to raise an brow at first.
"I write to you with our fathers blessing."
Well that's nic- wait. Father? Our?
"Something wrong lad?" Grif's voice broke him from his trace as the letters words ran through his skull and rang off the walls.
"Maybe it is that elf girl." Loch added with a smirk, and a loud belch.
"No." Grif stroked his beard, "She practically tried to kill him."
"My wife tries to kill me every other night." One of the patrons argued.
"He's a point." Loch added. "My coins on the elf. She's pissed and out fo-
"It's my brother." Llane put an end to the outlandish speculation. Stupid elves...
"The elf was your brother?!" One of the patrons laughed, then earned a smack over the head from the innkeep. He fell from his stool and onto the cold stone as the inn laughed at his misfortune. Llane ignored them for the most part. Why now of all times his brother would write him. And by the light, how did he know where he was?
Grif had since taken the letter in hand. "It's from his kin alright. Asks he come home. Family matters."
It said that and little else. Very strangely vague actually for a letter meant to lure him homeward, but perhaps making him curious was the point?
"What you thinking?" Loch asked, downing his tankard in one gulp.
What was he thinking? Burn the letter and drown the memory in ale was the first thing that came to mind, but oddly enough he dismissed the notion within an instant. "I don't know." Llane muttered. "I don't even know how they found me. It's been years. If they knew where I was all this time why wait until now?"
"Must be serious." Loch suggested.
That was one way to look at it. A more paranoid way to look at the thing was the possibility of a trap laying in wait, the letter was vague, clearly meant to grow the seed of curiosity. "Somebody knows me too well." Llane thought with a sigh. He couldn't ignore the letter. No amount of drink would make him forget nor would Grif cease reminding him of the contents now that he'd read the thing. He supposed the choice was already made for him. It was time to go home.
Ironforge. Seat of King Magni Bronzebeard and the kingdom of Khaz Modan, the capital itself constructed in the very heart of the mountains, an expansive underground city home to explorers, miners, and warriors. Massive doors of rock protected the city and lava from the mountain itself was redirected and distributed for heat, energy and smithing purposes. Inside the city was always bustling, rowdy, and somewhat industrial. Llane found it safe and rather cozy.
He'd entered the city without issue, as the gates were open to outsiders with little fuss on entry. Walking through the giant gates the first thing that struck any traveler was the hundred foot statue of the cities long dead king, Modimus Anvilmar, chain armor and a hammer and axe held on high. His mouth open in a soundless battle-cry.
"Welcome to Ironforge." Llane muttered aloud as he pushed back his hood. The light snow on his cloak melted in an instant as the wave of warmth clashed with the cold winds of the outside world. The city was a shelter to the world. It showed, as it's inhabitants ranged from every race of the Alliance with only elves being a rare occurrence.
Flash let his tongue hang out as they passed some dwarf women selling fresh bread. They kept walking past many small passageways, shops built into the rock walls, great halls and cavernous rooms. Llane eyed the many griffons using the high mountain ceiling as roosts, quick and agile creatures as proud as they were loyal. He'd have liked to ride one some day. The idea of souring through the sky at such speeds was an inviting one, but sadly griffons didn't let just anyone ride with them in the clouds.
"At least we know the way this time, eh boy?" Llane talked to his wolf who seemed to ignore the remark. When they'd first arrived in the city by some curse they'd ended up on the eighth level of the city in some shady store that sold... to this day had no idea what it was they sold. He'd left in a hurry. In the end a particularly helpful guardsmen, while laughing at the young humans misfortune, directed him to the main level where the gates could be found.
He'd deny ever getting lost. Nowadays he knew the city like the back of his hand, or at least the more common areas.
It was a fairly short walk to the tram. A marvel of Gnome engineering that put the Goblins to shame. Indispensable as a link between the two great capitals, providing swift and safe transportation for thousands of citizens, and bolstering military cooperation between the armies of the two proud Alliance strongholds.
"Want a ticket?" Llane found himself stopped by a guard at the entry tunnel.
Tossing the dwarf a small bag of silvers, he accepted with a grin. Handing him a small red ticket that showed a smiling gnome on the front side.
"Wait up lad!" A voice echoed.
"By the light." Llane thought with a curse, recognizing the voice.
"I've decided to accompany ya!" Loch stated proudly, his rifle slung over his back and a friendly hand outstretched for the human to take. "Least I could do for a friend is help out, or what kinda dwarf would I be?" A friend? Is that what they were now? Llane wasn't so sure of that. Acquaintances, at most...
Llane said nothing as the dwarf kept his hand out. "That being said," he scratched the back of his head. "I'm a bit short on coin for me ticket."
Leave him. The voice of reason in his head demanded it. The dwarf was nothing to him. "Another I suppose." Llane's sense of civility always seemed to get the better of him, as he rarely turned down helping others even if he'd complain often and loudly about the bloody futility of it afterwards. The guardsmen handed Loch his ticket.
Flash licked the dwarfs still outstretched hand then processed to bound after his master, who had already continued onward.
"He's a hungry one." Loch commented, watching as Flash bounded around the station chasing the many rats that seemed to infest the tramway. The little bastards were no match for the wolves speed and agility, as he sank fangs into the soft little creatures and tossed them aside like chew toys. Not food. Merely play things.
"At least one of us is enjoying ourselves." Llane thought, still annoyed at being followed by the dwarf he barely knew.
"Trams coming!" A small child's voice announced from the small crowd of citizens waiting for a ride.
Its mother scolded him. "Get away from the edge Timmy!"
Flash meanwhile swung another rat from his jaws, sending the slain critter flying onto the tram rails. One gnome in particular seemed overjoyed at the rat slaughter as he causally began collecting the bodies for some nefarious and unknown purpose. Llane didn't want to know the use of the dead flea ca-
"Flash!" He realized something. "Get away from those things!"
The wolf sulked over to its master and lowered his head.
"You'll get fleas."
Flash didn't seemed to care.
"I'll have to bath you again."
At that, the wolf raised his head seemed to go wide-eyed.
"No more rats, eh?"
Flash was convinced.
The ram arrived and it's passengers traded places. A fairly large number of humans had come from Stormwind, unsurprisingly, the dwarven city was not unwelcoming in the least to other races of the Alliance nor was Stormwind in return, although the latter was home to far more citizens as the Alliances main capital.
Llane's family house was located near the park district along one of the richer streets. It was a district devoted to leisure activities for Stormwind's populace and the favored retreat for visiting night elves, who found the comforting presence of nature a welcome respite from the vast stone houses that lined the city. As a child Llane mistakenly thought the night elves, with glowing eyes, to be angels from the fables. His father swiftly dismissed that notion from his childish head.
"So," Loch asked as the trio took a seat. The other passengers giving Flash plenty or room. "what's Stormwind like? I cant say I've been..."
Why was this dwarf following him? Llane shook the thought and decided to just ignore the why of the thing, he supposed there were worst companions. Grif could've come. The light thankfully had not forsaken him quite so much. "I don't remember a whole lot. Vast stone houses surrounding the great cathedral, the kings keep overlooking the city. I couldn't see much of that past the church actually, but it's shadow was always there watching over us."
Loch seemed to think on that as the tram began speeding down the track.
"I always liked the roosts." Llane wasn't sure why he was saying this pointless small talk, but he felt the need to fill the silence with something. The other passengers ignored them or held their own conversations. "When I was younger I tried to take an egg from one of the hatchery. That didn't go well..."
Loch smirked. "Never take from a griffon lad, bloody prideful creatures."
"I didn't know that then." Llane defended himself. When his father found out, a guard having dragged him home, the man threatened multiple times to have him tossed in the stockades. He never took another egg after that. "I wasn't going to hurt the thing. I just wanted to fly one day is all."
Loch nodded. "Aye, tried my hand at it myself once. Bugger nearly took my hand clean off when I tried to mount it."
Griffons were prideful and highly intelligent creatures. He'd learnt that the hard way. Apparently every guardsmen was given an opportunity to step forward and try his luck at being 'accepted' by one of the beasts. It was more a friendship than any form of ownership and less than half ever succeeded. Llane wasn't sure why exactly, it was simply said that griffons had a good sense of character. Or that they were extremely stubborn depending on the breeding. Stupid overgrown chickens.
As they left the tram some hours later the air was thick with smoke and sparks, and the ground trembled with the pounding of anvils. It almost reminded Llane of Ironforge, if not for the clear abundance of sky overhead. The massive spinning cog on the entrance to the tram tunnel didn't go amiss as the pair passed a trove of weapon and armor shops lining the crowded streets. "Welcome to Stormwind, dwarf." Llane announced to his new apparent friend.
"Too much sky for me tastes," Loch commented with a shrug. "but it's a fine city all the same."
It would be a short walk from the Dwarven District to the outskirts of the park where the Longfyre house was located. Llane took in the sights, noting that the city had barely changed in the least since his childhood. Home sweet home he supposed. They walked slowly towards the house, giving Llane plenty of time to plan what he'd say.
"I'm home you old bastard." Was one option.
Shooting him between the eyes with his own bow was another.
"Remember me?" Was yet another, although he doubted they wouldn't.
"Oh," he could picture himself saying on the doorstep. "This dwarf followed me home. Can we toss him in the canal?"
Llane smirked at the last one. Simple, effective and with the hint of the humor he often used to defuse situations that made him unconformable... or just plain bored. That and tossing the dwarf into the canals to be eaten by the monsters his mother warmed him of as a child was all in all an amusing thought. He could see the dwarf, who he doubted knew how to swim, wailing his arms in the air and screaming "Why?!" just before a set of jaws dragged him under. What? A man could dream.
Questions & Answers: I'll try and answer any obvious questions that you, the reader, may have. Just to save time on what may be obvious questions assuming anyone reads this far in the first place. If anyone's not answered here or you'd like a more detailed explanation, leave a review and I'll get back to you.
Q: When is the story set exactly?
A: It begins when I did. Classic.
Q: A Human Hunter? Those were not in Classic you idiot.
A: I'm very aware. I was a dwarf, hence the start, but I changed race later.
Q: Will there be raids, like Molten Core, Black Temple, etc?
A: If I did them while level-appropriate, then Llane will too.
Q: Why the name Llane? If his fathers from Lordaeron why pick a Stormwind king?
A: Lordaeron's refugees (most of them) fled to Stormwind. It's meant to honor this new home.
Q: Your timeline is screwed up because of X and Y and Etc.
A: Is it? Maybe. I'm fairly sure it's fine. I'll adjust if needed.
Q: You spelled something wrong / Your grammar is bad.
A: Your mother. But seriously, I don't care about the odd typo.
Q: Will you interact with any 'important' characters?
A: Yes. Very far down the line. Llane is a nobody at first.
Q: Onyxien is the granddaughter of Deathwing? Seriously?
A: I only noticed this on the Wiki. Not certain as to how legitimate it is but I like the connection and plan on keeping it. The netherwing flight are the children of Deathwing after all, this much is legitimate, so it stands to reason that they are all 'related' in some form or another. It serves as a nice story point and the Onyx Netherdrake was my mount from BC all the way to Legion. I earned many others, but earning Ony was one of my proudest achievements. I loved that mount. Still do.
Q: Who are these OC's? Grif, Loch, Etc? How many OC's will there be in the story?
A: I'll have some based on NPCs that fit. Others are based on players I met in-game.
Q: When will the next update be? Soon? Please?
A: Not soon. It'll update eventually, but not soon.