Hello, all. I'm Tainteddark. I'm not sure how well I write, so if it's a bit bad, please try to bear with me and give me some reviews. I know I have a few mistakes with past/present tense, but I don't always seem to work that out very well. =/.
Summary, since it's too long to say in the 255 character thing:
Kelvin, a hero of the Horde, gets assigned reluctantly after volunteering to serve in the war to slay the 'Lich King' of the Scourge, AKA Arthas, to examine and search a mysterious mist where a battle between the Horde and the Alliance had raged about a day earlier. Having seen all of the Horde troopers nearby flee, he enters alone. Inside, he finds two Alliance soldiers that he is forced to care for. Time passes, and as events unfold, their views on one another are tested, and surprises are going to be plentiful. Rated M for possibilities later on between characters, or for violence and excessive swearing.
Note: I may continue this further after the mist, at a later note. I don't know. We'll have to see. Again, apologies if it's a bit bad. One of my first stories, so, yeah. Going to be publishing quite a few as I write them, but for now, we'll focus on this one.
Kelvin's POV
Gazing out through blackened eyes, a mysterious man hefted a deep sigh. He stood mounted atop a skeletal warhorse; the bones tinted a dark orange color, with heavy metal plating covering the royal purple drape covering the horse's bony body. Its decayed, dirty tail flicked here and there in anxious wait, its head lifting upward and backward to gaze at its fallen master.
Alike his horse, the man was also once dead. He was raised and brought back into life before his body and mind rotted, risen to fight once again. Unlike his horse, though, his form wasn't fully rotted. Feet, hands, torso, face, and a few other areas were still covered in a thin, pale blue skin. His face bore an irritated expression. His eyes were yellow, peering out into the world with a hateful gaze. His cheekbones were high and proud, his chin strong and masculine. His nose was proportionate, and his mouth was pursed, tight, and plain with distaste. Dark, dirty red hair jutting down around his head in sharp daggers, it clung to him easily.
Coated in heavy, black plate, the man bore two large axes on his back, and dual long-swords strapped to his hips, he was fearsome to say the least. His gloves were specially crafted to allow his fingers to lie bare. They were weapons in their own right. Obviously, the man had used them before in combat, as they were fierce and wicked. They were as sharp as swords, and could be used to pierce any material with ease.
The man was the fallen warrior named Kelvin Dainsburn. He was twenty seven when slain in combat during the older times, in battle against the fel-orcs. Brought back unwillingly, his outlook on others could sometimes be very curt and irritated, but mostly, his emotions could be in check, and he knew how to enjoy his second life as much as possible. Under the banner of his queen, Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, he was put into service working for the Horde. They were of the most fierce factions bound together of all. Their hated enemies, the Alliance, were much less severe, and often, Kelvin found it amusing to play with them as he found them, finding new ways to kill them while taunting and insulting them.
He smirked at the thought, before his mind shifted back to his current task. Grimacing, he had been assigned to the Borean Tundra by request from comrades who had volunteered as well. Under the command of the obnoxious Garrosh Hellscream, he was forced to commit to whatever he and his officers sought to accomplish, and had been assigned to combat the Scourge.
The only bad part of it was that he was called to fight and clear a shoreline where some "dangerous" mist had crossed, coating it, and apparently costing the lives of thousands of Horde AND Alliance warriors.
"Utter crap, that's what that is," he muttered under his breath, sighing, scanning the shore again. All that was to be seen was a thick mist. Grunting he dismounted his horse, patting it and sending it off to lie in a comfortable patch of grass while it waited for its master. Watching it settle, he turned back towards his assigned goal; find what happened in the mist, and kill off whatever cost the lives of the Horde troopers inside.
And, remembering to gather whatever salvageable supplies were available, as well, he added.
Slowly, he willed his reluctant body forward, taking a quiet stroll into the eerie mist, lifting his arms up to wrap his hands around his massive axes. Drawing them from their binds, he held them at his sides, straightening his back, ready to kill whatever moved before him.
Lauren's POV
"For the Alliance!"
That was the last thing she remembered, as she and her comrades dove into combat on the shores hours earlier.
A human woman, dressed in silver mail, bellowed in an angry rage, drawing her iron bastard sword and metal shield from her belt, raising them in defiance, her eyes trained on the nearest enemy. Her blue tabard, bearing a gold lion, flapped proudly in front of her, the banner of the Alliance bearing all around her.
She looked to be about twenty years of age, with long brown hair covered under her armor. Her eyes were a kind, warm, inviting brown, with a common human face. Her skin was the average white in color and texture, with thin, but luscious lips on a strong face.
Her body, under the armor, was shapely, and very similar to that of an hourglass. Lauren Hilder, your ordinary, everyday soldier of the Alliance army, assigned to Northrend after weeks of training in the boot camps, being drafted in under the order of her king, Varian Wrynn. She knew of her natural beauty, but was more interested in serving her kingdom as a soldier, rather than dawdling in useless affairs.
She and her comrades rushed headlong into the battlefield, their eyes trained on the red-armored Horde masses. The two sides had seemingly met earlier on the field, and had immediately prepared for battle. The shoreline was already littered in corpses, and the buildings along it, where innocent Alliance villagers had lived, were fully ablaze and ruined, being used for strategic points in the skirmish.
Blocking an axe from a raging orc with her shield, she staggered back, to watch one of her battle-brothers plunge his sword into the massive orc, the beast's blood splattering outward, his cry of death sounding low, before the body fell limp. Pulling his sword from the body, it fell onto the sandy beach with a thump! before the two warriors shared a glance, diving back into the fray.
All around them, battles inside the war itself raged, the sounds of steel clanging hanging in the air, with bellows of ferocity, rage, and death filling the skies.
After cutting down a tauren, watching the monster's cow-like armored corpse fall to the ground, the fighting stopped. Heads turned in the direction of an approaching mist, both sides turning to watch it. Lauren sensed a strange feeling from the mist, and didn't like the looks of it at all. As the mist surrounded them, she found out why.
Muffled grunts and piercings sounded around her, the splash of blood apparent from all sides. She whirled her head in fear, being able to see only a few feet around her. She ran a few yards to what she thought was her left, before becoming lost in the fog, wandering aimlessly. She knew she tripped over a few bodies, not being able to make out whose they were, but knowing they were there, she found herself face to face with something horrendous. She uttered a scream, the noise falling short, being immediately covered up in the thick haze.
Kelvin's POV
Jumping backward, Kelvin grunted in agitation, before swinging an axe forward, clanking the massive weapon against a green torso; the body exploding in swampy waters and kelp. He sighed, before whirling around, ducking a lightning bolt, whizzing just above his head, exploding into the sand with a small blast. Somewhat relieved in his dodging of that, while also contemplating why it mattered, he rolled forward, thrusting his axes simultaneously into the body of another green monster.
"Just what the hell are these guys?" he asked to himself absentmindedly, as the man burst into swampy water again. Watching the kelp settle into the sand, he spun around, trudging onward through the mist. Whether an hour had passed, or a few minutes, there was no telling. It felt like time elapsed within the fog. Did it matter? He knew he'd be stuck in the damned thing for quite awhile. 'Might as well learn to not care about time,' he thought.
Progress didn't seem to exist. Whenever he thought he had found something, he realized he had walked in a circle. And the endless cycle of the swamp men didn't help his exploration much. All it brought was more things to kill. He kept also finding himself tripping over the corpses of the dead below him. Seeing the Alliance and Horde corpses together, their bodies buried in one another's weapons didn't surprise him. It was the chunks in their torsos and the foreign tools lodged in their skulls that made him silently wonder. He had gathered a few weapons, but knew the Horde back outside the mist wouldn't see much in it. He'd just pawn it off if they didn't pay him for it, for a few extra coin anyway, he guessed, shrugging.
Slumping down to pick up a piece of solid metal, he smirked. At least there were a few valuable resources to be found. It wouldn't be a full waste of time. That's all that mattered to him. Being the adept warrior that he was, he found carrying it simple and mindless, his packs able to carry much of whatever he wanted. Shoving the steel into his metal pack, he pressed onward, his footfalls squishing into the damp sand.
The fog felt unreal, he knew that. Did he care and let himself become unnerved by it? No. There wasn't a point in sitting there, worrying about it. It was just fog. He was never one to let his mind wander, trying to discern things that didn't have to be. He wasn't stupid, by any means. He just didn't feel like wasting time, pondering about useless topics. He preferred things that actually mattered in his life.
Jumping out of the way of another stray lightning bolt, he sighed, turning to his left, charging hastily into another green giant, and cut him down quickly, before spotting a building nearby.
"Oh goodie. Maybe I'll find something fun in it. Hopefully I'll get something nice to pawn off, or maybe," he paused, adding a sarcastic tone to his voice. "There will be the sole weapon needed to combat the Scourge, and destroy it!" Grunting in rising irritation, he trudged into the house, scanning the bottom floor quickly. Empty. Nothing but a few corpses… And a dragging bloodstain. Normally, he wouldn't think anything of it. But, the thought of possible survivors hung in his mind, so he set himself on the task of following it up the stairs quietly.
His greaves crashing on the wooden staircase, he groaned inwardly. He knew he wouldn't be able to avoid making sounds, but the damned structure made it impossible to avoid stealth entirely. Nearing the upper staircase, he found another "green giant" staring intently into the doorway of the sole room on the top floor. Seeing the blood trail into the room, he charged into the unsuspecting monster, cutting it down quickly. Letting the water slosh over his feet, he peered his head into the room. What he found surprised him entirely.
He quickly brought up his axes defensively, blocking a half-hearted swing from an Alliance blade from cutting him down. He pushed back the attack, staring at the unenthusiastic assailant as they stumbled backward, losing balance.
"And just what the hell was that for, eh?" he grunted in complaint. He and the Alliance soldier both knew who had the advantage, and who would automatically win in battle, so the soldier slumped down onto its knees, grumbling.
"God, damn it! First the Horde army, then these… things… And now a Horde champion. Today just isn't my day," the voice was feminine. He sighed, sheathing his weapons.
"I'm not in the mood to kill you, girl. Instead, why don't you fill me in? Not like killing you has any point, in this mist," he said blatantly, shrugging.
She looked at him defiantly, as if to say something rude in return, but turned quickly at the sound of a dreadful groan behind her, kneeling beside a male Alliance soldier. He was clutching his stomach in pain. Kelvin noted a gaping wound; obviously it had been left unattended, as it was still oozing, no doubt slowly becoming infected.
"Hmm, so there are two of you. Alright, now what to do," he said, pausing. He saw their heads turn to gaze at him, waiting for him to continue. "I know I have a first aid pack in my stores of endless shit somewhere, but I want answers. And I don't need to kill you, if you're going to take it off my hands, you two."
"We won't. Just give me the pack so I can help him. Whatever you need to know is yours, Horde," she said; her eyes still fierce.
Sitting down, he swung one of his sacks over his shoulder, sifting through it, pushing potion bottles and bandages aside, before finding an actual emergency medical pack. Pulling it out, he tossed it to her, closing the pack, before settling into a corner on the other side of the room, leaning back to watch the woman tend to the wounded man with a bored gaze.
He couldn't tell how much time had passed, as he watched the woman work at stabilizing her comrade's condition, but he knew that there would be no trouble if he had to kill them both at any time. She was without energy, and the male soldier was on his deathbed. Kelvin sat, waiting patiently for the other man to be set for questioning, watching the doorway with a spare eye.
Seeing the two settle down after what felt to be about five minutes, slumped against one another, alternating their eyes from on the doorway, and also turning to watch him quickly, as if expecting him to kill them after the man had been mended.
After a few minutes, he grunted, watching their eyes immediately dart to him. "Okay," he said, sighing. "I'm not going to kill you. If I did, I wouldn't of wasted my medical pack on you. How about we push aside the 'mortal enemies' spiel off for after we're done in this god forsaken mist?"
Receiving silent glares, he shrugged. He lied back, wrapping his arms behind his head, lying on one of his more comfortable carry-on packs. He was wondering which one he was laying on, thinking it could've been the one full of leather and skins, when he heard a muffled cough from the couple.
"…Fine. I can deal with that. Can you, Lauren?" the man said, after a few more moment, his voice slowly steadying and calming, his head turning to stare at his female counterpart.
"I don't want to, but I guess we have to. What do you want, undead?" she said sharply, continuing to glare at him.
Frowning distastefully at them, he blatantly muttered, "Well, aren't you two the cheery ones? I got stuck with a pair of real good people, I guess."
Receiving looks filled with disgust, he shrugged. "What? I'm only speaking the truth. You two are hateful Alliance, and I'm your mortal enemy, the evil Horde champion. If I didn't have both of you by your necks, you'd never be willing to even try to talk, let alone speak peacefully about a shared problem. You'd be trying to kill me. Boo-hoo, though. You have to get over yourselves. We're all in this together. I'm not leaving until I have answers, and I sure as hell want to get out of this damned place. And I'm sure you two want to, as well. So stop being so hateful and let's get to talking, shall we? We'll make an escape or whatever afterwards."
Staring at him, the two nodded slowly, conceding defeat. They relaxed, grunting reluctant compliance.
"Well, I guess we'll start off with this; Greetings, Alliance soldiers. I'm Kelvin; a reluctant volunteer to come to the shit-hole known as Northrend, and a veteran warrior. I've been risen from the dead unwillingly, and I'm what you refer to as a 'Forsaken.' How do you do? What are your names?" he asked, introducing himself casually.
Giving him a surprised look, the woman said, "That was rather informative for an introduction. But, I'm Lauren, and this is Thomas. We're soldiers of the Alliance army as you already know, and we're here on behalf of the king, Varian Wrynn. We're here to slay the traitor known as Arthas, or the 'Lich King,' and to push back and eliminate the Scourge once and for all. We've been trapped in this mist for about a day now, and we're not happy to be here."
Grinning, Kelvin said, "Join the club. I'm totally going on vacation here after the campaigns 'n all that crap's over. Best. Location. To. Vacation. Ever."
Everyone let out a quiet chuckle at the humor. They all knew it was meant to lighten up things, and anything in a dire situation could be somewhat comical, if it was wanted to be.
"Aye," Thomas said, after a moment, sizing Kelvin up. "So, you're not going to be very tight with your words, undead?"
"No use. And Kelvin, please. I'm not really in the mood to refer to you as 'Thing 1' and 'Thing 2.' No offense, but I'm not in the mood to try to make Doctor Seuss references," he said, sighing.
"I guess I see your point. So, Kelvin. What brought you to this fine establishment in the first place?" Thomas asked as politely as he could, watching him.
"I got sick of killing things outside, so I was like, 'Oh, why not loot the abandoned housings and get myself some food from their fridges,' 'n all that crap. Before that, I got assigned by Hellscream personally to come play clean up duty for the cowardly Horde still present. Also got assigned by the ones in charge down here to be the gatherer bitch and pick up whatever I could find. Heroes get stuck with the best jobs, ever," he answered, hefting a large sigh.
Lauren's POV
She stared at him in surprise. Lauren turned to stare at Thomas, sharing one of those, 'Can you believe this guy?' glances, before looking back at the undead warrior.
"I don't think I've ever met someone so blunt, especially on the Horde's side. Isn't being a hero a good thing? Shouldn't you enjoy it?" she asked, staring at him in mild jealousy. What she wouldn't do to be a hero!
He shrugged, sighing. "Believe it or not, I was happy to be a hero back during the days against the fel-orcs. Not now. I got risen up and was forced to be a soldier for the Forsaken, and have had to deal with the lack of taste, feeling, emotion, and compassion for about three years now. I was happy to have died a hero for the humans back during the days of the Legion. Now I'm feeling more like a mercenary for hire. Hellscream's a bitch, honestly. He sees no use in 'heroes' such as myself. We're stuck with the grunt-work, doing tasks only befit for miracle workers and things that the troops don't want to do, and we are also called on to clean other peoples' asses up when they blunder. It's not honestly an enjoyable experience anymore. And if it weren't for my mates signing up for this damned campaign, I wouldn't of volunteered. I'd be more content to be sitting in Stranglethorn, trying to enjoy a drink, or something. This place blows," he grumbled; his body sagged at the thought.
"It's much different for the Alliance, then," Thomas said. Lauren jumped, turning to look at him, forgetting about his presence for a moment. "Our heroes have always been treated with respect and honor. It's a wonderful feeling to be known as a certain hero. It even feels good to be a regular Alliance soldier. I'm honestly sorry that you don't receive the same treatment," he continued, looking at Kelvin with mild pity. Lauren stared hard at the undead, soaking in his features, and pondering long and hard whether the Horde are all as bad as she thought, or not.
"Sad, then. I'm stuck as an 'abomination' and forced to play gladiator, basically, for a cause I don't care for anymore. I'm not really interested in this campaign anymore. Having to destroy the Scourge's floating fortresses, slay hundreds of blue dragonkin, murder traitors in cold blood, survive waves of whatever you can think of, take on giants, kill hell-bent robots, kill these swampy guys, and all that, isn't fun. It's expected now, and it's gotten old. But, life will be life, and I'll put my head down and continue to play grunt anyway. Not like I have a choice. If I got to tap Sylvanas every night for it, perhaps I'd think happier thoughts. But I don't get to. So, I'd say I'm just stuck wallowing in the misery and doing whatever I have to. If I get to kill Arthas in combat, hoo-ray. If I don't? And die in combat? Good. I don't have to play the attack-puppy for the Horde anymore," he finished, his attention apparently focused at the roof above them all. She couldn't help but feel bad for him, and felt like how she had thought of and treated him earlier had been all wrong.
"Not all Horde are as bad as they're portrayed, are they?" Thomas said absentmindedly, resting comfortably against Lauren's shoulder. Propped up on the wall and her shoulder, she knew he'd make a slow recovery, but he'd live if not pushed too hard for a few days.
"Nope, and I guess the Alliance aren't always so bloodthirsty for an undead man. A nice surprise, actually. So, any idea what the guys outside are, exactly?" he said, before drawing a knife from one of his bags quickly, lobbing it through the doorway. They heard a grunt as there was a muffled explosion, supposing another had been killed by the warrior with ease.
"No," Lauren said, starting slowly. "I don't know what they are, just that apparently they're called, 'Kvaldir.' Someone called them that as they approached through the waters on some wooden boats, jumping off to murder everyone in sight. Not a single trooper was all that good at handling their massive numbers, especially since we were, well…," she trailed off, knowing he would understand what came next.
"Before you guys got caught up killing one another. Yeah. Considering I've killed about, a literal hundred, I can see why there'd be difficulty. I'm not sure we'll honestly make it out before we all starve. If it comes to that, I'm going fishing. Any fishing huts nearby? I'll go gather some food later. I'd say, while you heal over there, I'll be playing gatherer for all of us," he said, grumbling.
Still slightly distrustful of him, Lauren eyed him carefully. Feeling her gauntlet squeezed by Thomas, she turned to face him quickly, seeing him stare at her sternly. She sighed, knowing she'd have to just learn to trust the undead. It wasn't like they had a choice anyway. "Alright, Kelvin. Any ways I can help, then?" she asked quietly, wishing to be helpful in any way possible.
"How good are your skills in the kitchen, and wound-mending, then?" he replied quickly, staring her up and down, sizing her up.
"I'm a decent chef, and I'm good at binding most wounds. I'm not a nurse, but I'm decent at handling most things inflicted on the field. Why?"
"I just believe, you'll be cooking whatever meat I had in my packs tonight for us. We got plenty of firewood, and I believe I killed enough mammoths earlier to have enough meat to sustain us for a few days." He stood up, pulling the pack full of meat over to them, setting it down with a thunk! And with that, he turned, walking down the staircase, drawing one of his axes. The two shared glances at the sound of quieted combat, and the cutting of wood. The warrior returned, bearing a few logs of wood, from what looked like a chair.
"This gonna' do?" he asked, examining it with a side-ways glance.
"It should," Lauren said, standing up, grabbing the logs. She sized them up quickly, taking off a glove to test the dampness of it. The wood was actually oddly dry. She knew she'd do fine. Walking back to sift through the pack, she checked the storage of the meat. "It's decent enough. I'll be able to work with it."
"That's good. Now, what else should I do…?" He turned, walking downstairs. Sneaking over to lean down, she saw him blocking off one of the entryways into the housing, making it less likely for ambushes from the Kvaldir outside.
She turned to share a glance with Thomas. Both had no idea how to take their caretaker. She had a feeling, though, in her gut, that their destinies with the man would forever be intertwined, by this point. She sighed, walking to the fire, to begin tending it. Looking out, she couldn't tell if it was day or night. The mist kept everything in an unchanging color and lighting.
"This'll be a long few weeks, won't it, Thomas?" she asked, sighing.
"I'll try to recover as soon as possible, Lauren. Until then, we are at the mercy of Kelvin entirely. But, he doesn't look to be so bad, does he?" he answered, replying with a question of his own.
"No, it's just…," she trailed off. He knew what she meant. The two settled down, working at the fire, awaiting the coming events with anxious uneasiness.
End for chapter one!