A/N: Here we go my good freinds, Chapter 4! Another actionless chapter, but interesting nonetheless. Introducing a new character here today. Thelma Stonefeild, AKA Grannma Stonefield. I orginally had her cast as a Love Interest for Rhodark, then decided against it at the sage advice of my good freind, Jack Daniels. Oh, and no more Chapters until I get a total of 5 reviews. KTHNXBAI
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Here it was, the final battle, the greatest of all conflicts. The beaten and battered Alliance Armies versus the last remaining Horde Resistance holed up in the throne room in the Valley of Wisdom, Orgrimmar. Rhodark, the decorated and vigliant leader of the Alliance Forces in Kalimador, being as noble as he was, offered one last chance for the people of Orgrimmar to give up and accept Human rule or to be vanquished.
"CREATURES OF THE HORDE!" he called, his voice booming and intimidating in the otherwise silent late afternoon. "COME OUT WITH YOUR WEAPONS DISCARDED AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED!"
"NEVER WILL WE BOW TO YOU, HUMAN SCUM! THE HORDE WILL NEVER FALL!" came the grotesque voice of one of the horrible creatures deep within the fort. "THE WARCHEIF IS RIGHT, MON! FER THA HORDE EH!?" Another voice, this one oddly... Tropical? Probably one of those abominable Troll folk.
"VERY WELL!" Rhodark called, lowering his banner, signalling for his men to charge blindly into the last hold of the Horde on the continent of Kalimidor.
Within moments he heard the screams of pain and terror of hordic citzens echo from the great tent-like structure. Rhodark smiled, shooting off a bullet into a Tauren that was attempting to escape, catching her in the leg.
Feeling another pressence close to him, Rhodark looked about frantically, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Suddenly, a great voice came down from the heavens and spoke to him with an elderly and maternal voice.
"Hey there, you awake yet sweety?"
Again, his dreams of conquest were interrupted, never mind that now, Rhodark had something to say to the elderly lady looking down at him.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Apparently he was in some minor pain.
"Oh, that must be your back acting up sweety, I tell you, the way ye've been thrashing and slashing about in the bed, I thought you might've accidently choked in your sleep. Now then, lets get you some food then, eh?" said the woman who had been so rude to derail Rhodark's moment of glory. Upon further inspection, he saw that the woman was a human, probably in her early sixties or late fifties. He hair gray and her face etched with wrinkles. That is not to say she had aged badly. Her face had actually retained its youth fairly well considering her age.
"Yeh, food, tha's good... wait..." said a still groggy Rhodark, rubbing his face with his hand in a futile attempt to clear his foggy mind. "...who're you and w're in t'e 'ell am I?"
"Oh, well sir, you must excuse my manners. I'm Thelma Stonefield, but most just call me Grannma. You're in the my house in Elwynn Forest, the Stonefield Farmstead to be exact. We found you out on the crest of the hill leading toward Fargodeep. But enough talk, you need some food, eh? Get yer strengh up." With that she walked away from Rhodark and proceeded out of the room, and Rhodark heard her going down stairs, then nothing.
Rhodark just lay on the bed, enjoying the comfort it's soft matress and downy comforter offered him, as he was honestly terrified to move his back, the pain from waking up still lingering in his extremities. Suddenly the events of his most recent - and probably last - trip to Fargodeep mine resounded in his mind. Peering into the darkness of the Kobold under-tunnels, fleeing at the first sign of danger, hearing the screams of his fellow miners as the myriad Kobold engulfed them. Only one though passed his mind at this point.
'Serves 'em right, bloody pricks.'
Contrary to what most would assume, Rhodark felt no sorrow and very little guilt for the felling of his partners in buisness. Sure, he ran away without warning them, did that make him at fault for their demise? Not in his eyes. Their too weak to beat off a few dirty rat-things, that's their problem. Though one thing did seem out of place in this whole affair.
"'OY! WOMAN! W'eres mah pick!?"
For two excruciating minutes he awaited an answer from down below. He then heard the woman accending the steps, very very slowly. Upon her eventual arival upon the threshold of his door, Rhodark repeated his command.
"OY! WOMAN! W'ERS MAH PICK!?"
"Now, now calm down son, you dont wanna get too worked up now." said his elderly caretaker. "Now drink some soup, it's good for you." She then took a spoon out of the bowl she came up with and moved it towards his mouth. Well, moved was the wrong word, more forced it into his mouth.
With no way to defend himself Rhodark took the soup and, about a quarter of an hour later, finally got a word in after the soup bowl was finally empty.
"ANER THE KESTION WOMAN!" Demanded Rhodark with a ferocity he had not used in a very long time.
"What question?"
"W'ERES MAH DAMNED PICK?!" He screamed almost directly into her ear.
"Hm? Pick? You mean the thing that was lodged into your back? We tossed that in the basement, though if you want it I can get if for you."
Rhodark then let out a howl of pain as he had lurched to attack the woman, his back still in pain. Then he came to terms with it, he had left his most prized possesion in the mines that were now infested with the infernal rat-things. There was only one thing to do.
He would have to go after it.
A/N: ACTION! SUSPENCE! AXE-LOVING! What lies ahead for our intrepid hero? Success? Victory? Failure? Death? Who knows? Who cares? The answers to all these questions and more in the next chapter of... The Last Miner of Elwynn!