3
Discoveries and Acceptance
The frenzied getaway from Goldshire had finally dulled down to a relaxed stroll as the adrenaline high faded further away with every stride. Harley caught his breath, and Joe let out a long, controlled sigh.
"I think we lost them; they don't seem to be chasing us anymore," said Joe as he picked a few leaves from the kneecap that jutted from his right leg.
"Yeah, I guess they really didn't have much of a reason to. I mean, we were running away from town, not towards it. Plus Oreo back there…" Harley turned around and hesitantly patted his pet raptor lightly on the top of his head. The reptile nudged against the comforting hand and cooed affectionately. Harley felt relieved, as if he had expected the raptor to bear his teeth and lash out as he so recently and viciously did.
"How the heck did we get into this mess anyway? I mean how is it that any of this possible?" questioned Harley as he parked his massive body onto a small boulder nearby. Joe plopped himself on the cool ground in the shade of a nearby tree and paused, only to shake his head.
There was a moment of silence between the two, but it seemed to last for hours. Goldshire was a beautiful countryside area. The grass was green, the greenest wild grass either of them had ever seen. The emerald plains seemed to go forever, rolling like a loose but lush carpet over the endless expanse of small tumbling hills that could be seen in every direction. There were trees scattered everywhere; each held its humble canopy only large enough to create a space of shade that would accommodate a perfect sized area for a picnic, or reading a book. The trunks were large, but not too large, and the branches were plenty, as if they were grown with the thought of children wanting to climb them in mind. The sound of a small river or creak could be heard in the distance, and aA small patch of colorful flowers next to the nearest tree was being occupied by a couple of happy butterflies. The sound of a small river or creak could be heard in the distance, and everything was very peaceful.
Harley looked up from the random focus his stare was fixed on, lost in hopeless thought, and changed his expression to something Joe had yet to see on his Tauren features.
"Hey Joe", he verbally nudged. "You hungry at all?"
Joe quickly scanned Harley's stare for a culprit explaining the sudden question, and following his gaze, set his sights on a field of plump, delicious-looking watermelons laid out in neat little rows along old broken splinters of wooden fences. The thought of hunger hadn't passed his mind or his stomach the whole time, yet suddenly, he was absolutely starved. "Hell yeah I'm hungry. Let's go pig out."
Both Joe and Harley had the look of small children as they gazed at the dazzling colors of their sugar-coated ecstasy on the racks and walls of a candy store. Harley plucked a melon from the ground and tapped it lightly with his ear against the side.
"These melons are perfectly ripe!" exclaimed Harley as the hollow vibrations of the melon made him salivate. "I just need a knife or something to-"
SPLAT! Harley felt the weight of the melon shift into two separate directions as he staggered backwards completely off-guard. The melon had been sliced in half, and with impressive accuracy. Harley dropped one side of the melon in his surprise, and Joe caught it just before he flipped his dagger back onto his belt.
"Jesus Christ Joe! You could have cut off one of my fingers there!" shouted Harley as he regained his footing.
"Relax" said Joe, already cutting his half of melon into little bite-sized pieces.
"Relax?!" The Tauren retorted, eyes wide. "Have you ever even used a dagger like that before?!"
The question caught Joe a little by surprise. He put a piece of the juicy melon in his mouth, juice dripping out the hole in his cheek, and pondered a minute. "Come to think of it… no, I haven't," said Joe, feeling slightly impressed with himself. Harley grunted off what was left of the frustration and looked at Oreo.
"You want some watermelon Oreo?" he asked the raptor. Oreo just cocked his head.
"I don't think raptors eat watermelon, Harley," said Joe, with his mouth full. "Lemme look in my bag and see if I have any jerky or something for him". ."
Before he could even reach for his bag, Oreo lowered his head and started a low, rumbling growl. Joe and Harley froze, unsure of what the raptor was trying to do. They looked up at each other and then in the direction Oreo was facing.
There was a small man, dressed in a dirty white shirt and stained overalls. He stood beside his cabin, where the rest of his family could be seen peering from the crack of the door he had left open. The man was trying to control his trembling, but it; the effort was futile;, it was obvious that he was horrified by what he saw. Nevertheless, he shakily held a massive double-barrel shotgun with the two intimidating trespassers in his sights.
Harley and Joe froze and stood to face the threatening little man.
"Shit," said Joe. "I guess this farmer isn't too happy about us eating his melons".." Harley glanced at the farmer's wife and children who were trying to remain unseen, but were still curiously peering from the door. "What were we thinking? We just ran up and started eating crops off a farm; I didn't even stop to consider where the farmer would be," Joe went on.
"I think we should just get out of here, we don't wanna cause this guy any trouble," said Harley, still eyeing the farmer's family.
"Cause him any trouble? He's the one aiming the shotgun at us".." Joe gestured incredulously.
"U… uden b-bur de mas!" managed the poor trembling farmer. "Ver! Ver mas!" He nudged his gun in a direction away from his farm.
"We'll just be on our way-" Harley started, but stumbled on the slippery watermelon and fell with a grunt. The sudden movement scared the already terrified little man, causing him to jerk his trigger finger. A spray of crude shrapnel liquefied one of the halves of watermelon that lay on the ground next to Harley and Oreo, drenching the ground in a puddle of broken red chunks.
Time slowed into a short series of events that both Harley and Joe would remember for the rest of their lives in gruesome and vivid detail. Oreo's growl went up an octave in pitch, and he began to charge at the surprised farmer. The massive raptor lunged forward and dug his enormous, outstretched talons into the puny man's chest, knocking him over and crushing the bones in his ribcage to pieces. Before the man could even attempt to scream, the raptor swept its head forward with the same motion, its fearsome jaws agape, and with a final SNAP had pressed its teeth into the soft and fragile neck of the broken farmer.
"STOOOP!" bellowed Harley as tears of shock rolled down his face and through the braids of hair on his chin. "OREO! STOP!" In an instant it was over, and for what seemed like an eternity, the raptor stood on top of the man holding his life between his jaws. Oreo did not know what to do; the man he attacked would surely die, but leaving him like this that would make him suffer a horrible and painful death. Harley's sobs caught up with him, and he was unable to say anything further to stop this th e traumatic scene. The man was still alive, but he Harley could only imagine the kind of pain he was in. The family behind the door hadn't peeped. Their eyes were all wide in shock, and their bodies were all frozen in the paralysis of fear and uncertainty.
Oreo made his decision. It would mean disobeying his master, but leaving a living thing this that way would be cruel. With a final motion, the raptor ripped his head upwards, tearing half of the man's neck up with it and opening his jugular vein in gory arterial spray. The little girl behind the door let out a shrilling and uncontrolled scream. The raptor swiftly returned to his master.
"Harley," nudged Joe. "Harley, we need to get out of here".." He futilely tugged at the Tauren statue. Harley wouldn't budge; he couldn't budge; he could only gape. "Harley! We have to go! NOW!" And with a final desperate pull, Harley awoke from the nightmare and slowly treaded off towards the river, leaving the horrible scene and the now fatherless family behind him.
Jake wasn't sure of what to make of his situation. He was in the Eastern Plaguelands, that was for sure, but he had no idea which way he was heading or what difference it'd make if he did. The sun sets in the west, but I don't know what time of the day it is, making it difficult to tell if the sun is rising or setting… and even if I did, I can't see the damned sun through all this hazy mist! Jake clenched his fists out of habit, but quickly relieved his hands in reaction to his still unfamiliar, claw-like fingers digging into his palms. This is so frustrating! I have no idea what is going on!
After many moments of walking in an unknown direction in tense silence, Jake began to notice familiar glimpses of energy. Nothing was even remotely close to his location, but off in the distance on all sides he could feel the presence of shadowy magic similar to that of his wand. Jake would have never thought his sense of this energy to be a part of the magely arsenal that the casters of World of Warcraft would be equipped with. Those energies must be the undead of this place… The scourge…Jake pondered his thought for a moment. Well, at least now I know where NOT to go. He shrugged as he so often did to physically gesture to his own thoughts.
As he searched around in attempt to pick a clear direction, Jake pondered the situation a little more carefully. He was surprised that after being in the Eastern Plaguelands for so long, he had not encountered many undead (with the exception of the gargoyle, of course). I must be on the eastern side then… The Light's Hope Chapel should be close to my location. I still don't know east from west out here, but I bet if I concentrate I'll be able to find the chapel by heading in the direction opposite of the biggest concentration of shadowy energies out here.He looked around, trying to point out each individual dark life-force, but it all appeared as a big haze of shadows and energy. Concentrate, he told himself, not knowing exactly how to concentrate on such an unfamiliar sense. He stopped looking and closed his eyes completely. After what seemed to be minutes of silent frustration, the vague auras in the distance began to secede and become individuals. At the same time, he began to feel a new presence of energy; the most powerful feeling his new sense had experienced in fact, and it was much closer than the surrounding auras.
Distracted by this new power, Jake opened his eyes and looked around to see if anyone or anything was approaching. After a few moments of stupefied silence, he shook his head and thought of what he had just discovered. There seem to be seven or eight groups of undead in that direction,he looked shortly to his left, which means the chapel should be somewhere in THAT direction. He turned his body around to the right and made out a very faint light in the distance. Jake let out a relieved sigh and allowed himself to smile.
As he picked up the pace, finally walking in a guided direction, Jake couldn't shake off the feeling he had experienced while he was concentrating. Ever since he felt that power, he hadn't stopped noticing it. For him to not notice it beforehand was a little peculiar. As he thought about it, it seemed to be not only the most powerful energy he had felt, but an entirely different energy unlike the shadows he'd now become familiar with in the Eastern Plaguelands. No matter how far he distanced himself from the location, the energy seemed to follow him. Jake became a little frustrated and stopped walking to think of what the hell would be giving off such an awesome power.
With a lucid smack of realization, Jake nearly fell over as he came to the obvious conclusion that he was the power. As a mage, he was not capable of harnessing the essences of shadow and light, the only two energies that had been introduced to his senses, so he hadn't noticed it until he had really opened his mind through concentration. After he was aware of his own power, he found that the more he searched for it, the stronger his energy became. He concentrated like he did before by closing his eyes, but this time he thought only of his own power; he was not searching for anything in the distance.
There was an explosive increase in the amount of energy he was feeling; all throughout his body he could feel a warm and hectic movement, as if a violent wind were passing through his body. Despite the warm feeling this energy gave on the inside, Jake began to feel a sharp icy chill on the outside of his body- his hands in particular. He opened his eyes slowly, careful to not break his concentration, to see his hands collecting the frozen water particles that made up the cool hazy mist of a nearby pocket of fog.
This is amazing… Jake couldn't contain his shock as his robes became weightless in a slight updraft that he was creating. A light-blue glow began to emanate from his outstretched fingers, and he couldn't tell if they were actually glowing or if it was his energy sense that was picking it up. Jake stopped trying to guess and concentrated on it, whatever it was. The glow quickly became brighter, until it was an intense white. Jake couldn't even see his hands, and despite the shock of his astonishment, he realized that he could no longer feel them as well, as they'd been completely numbed by the cold.
"Ver das loden!" cried a hearty voice in the distance. Jake turned his attention from the spectacular scene he was creating to the direction of the voice. A grizzly, armor-clad human was standing only twenty yards away with look of anxious panic on his face. "Suedan klat ber uden vel codear slad! Vo der, ver das loden!" he cried, nervously gripping his freakishly oversized battle-axe. Jake turned a little to face him, still experimentally charging his newfound power.
What, is he talking to me in Swedish? Jake looked at him, perplexed.
After a short couple of seconds, the suspicious human grunted as he lifted his axe into an offensive stance and bellowed, "BES DO MAJAS!" The warrior began to charge, and time seemed to stop. The scene was so familiar. Jake knew what to do, but he didn't even begin to know how to do it. He reflexively wanted to move his hands upwards and point his palm towards the sky, as if he had some kind of muscle memory from doing this so many times before. His mind took over and fought the reflex with a reflex of its own, which was to point his hand at the oncoming foe. It was so awkward, and his choice to point his hand towards the enemy didn't feel right at all, however the warrior was only feet away and Jake had no time to react as he relentlessly charged forward.
He released. A cold that no person who lived in the sunny state of California could ever comprehend overcame every one of his senses, as a violent torrent of foggy ice particles rushed from his hand – his arm – his whole body in the direction he was facing. Jake opened his eyes to find that the oncoming bull had been stopped in his tracks, partially encased in a compacted icy prison. He grunted and struggled to free himself, but it was hopeless.
"Codear!" another voice said from the direction this hard-headed warrior came from. "Stop!" it repeated in a language he could understand. Jake looked over the shoulder of his popsicle friend to see a mounted knight bearing a familiar symbol on his tabard approaching at great haste. "What is the meaning of this?!" he said, looking furiously at the scene. The symbol on his tabard was a circle surrounded by eight triangles all pointing outward, making an octagonal symmetrical design. He recognized the symbol to be the mark of the Argent Dawn, a faction that branched from the Scarlet Crusade. Both factions sought to rid the world of threats such as the Scourge and the Burning Legion, but the Argent Dawn did not share the same fanaticism and unrelated beliefs that Scarlet Crusade so zealously followed.
Jake, dumbstruck, was speechless and only managed to stutter. The guard frowned and turned to look at the warrior. "Merjas goiben lo?" The warrior accusingly gestured at Jake while angrily sputtering out a series of syllables he couldn't understand.
What language are these people speaking?
After trading a few sentences and erratic arm gestures, the guard turned to face Jake once again. "Are you ready to speak now?" Jake looked at the guard for a moment, and then blinked his eyes a few times.
"He just sort of came after me. I didn't really know how to react". The guard looked at the feet of the warrior, and then back up at his face. He reached over and pulled the warrior on the arm, easily freeing him from the melting bulge of ice that once encased him.
"Well, from what I gather, it was a misunderstanding. He says that he saw you charging a frost bolt and figured you were going to attack him, but from the looks of it you used a defensive spell and neither of you were harmed, so I'll let you both off the hook." He shrugged and continued to explain to the warrior in their strange language.
A defensive spell?A frost nova… That's why it felt so strange.He figured that a frost nova would be cast with the hand overhead to create a sort of area-of-effect range for the spell to take its toll, trapping anything within a given radius allowing the caster to keep a distance from his attacker. Jake had accidentally cast a directional frost nova.
"You're off the hook, mage, but I still want to keep an eye on you. I want you both to return with me to the Lights Hope Chapel so that we can settle this and any differences that might cause future confrontations such as this one."
Jake obediently followed the guard with the hot-headed warrior following closely behind, muttering incomprehensible things under his breath and making faces at Jake. What an idiot…
As the fog cleared, Jake could make out a vaguely familiar scene. Dozens of guards patrolled a perimeter around a small church that seemed too humble to be deserving of all this attention. The place was occupied by humanoids of almost every shape and color; dwarves, humans, Tauren, Orcs, night elves, and even a few undead stood around wearing tabards proclaiming their membership of the Argent Dawn, the Scarlet Crusade, the Earthen Ring, or the Cenarion Circle – each making business with another from their faction. Jake's head was spinning a little, and he felt himself drifting from where he stood far away to another distant realm. A voice calling a familiar name brought him back to reality.
"Gas!" called the casual voice. "Gasalyn Bageren! How's that collection of power crystals coming along?" Jake stared blankly at the man, not really knowing how to react. His tabard announced that he was a member of the Argent Dawn.
"You know this mage?" asked the guard that had been ushering him to this small unorthodox sanctuary.
"By the light… Tom, don't you recognize her? It's Gasalyn!" Hearing the name pronounced with a soft 'G', and having never heard the name Gasalyn, Jake stood confused. The stocky-looking human had used his short nickname 'Gas' first, pronouncing it with a hard 'G.' Why, he did not know. With all that had happened up to that point, he realized he didn't currently have the stamina to really give a damn.
"She hasn't been active in our efforts lately, but back in the day she made quite a name for herself! She has a great reputation here and holds a solid standing as a trusted member of the Argent Dawn." He finished with a sharp nod.
The guard looked Jake up and down a few times and paused to think, stroking his chin slightly. Finally, he muttered, "Yeah, she does look pretty familiar. You used to be a regular here." He turned to face the other man "Would you mind looking after her for a bit? I'm going to have a chat with the persistent gentleman behind me inside the chapel." The man looked over the guard's shoulder to see who he was referring to, and briefly caught the sardonic faces the warrior was now trying to mask with quick but hoarse cough.
"Getting into trouble again, eh? What'd you do now, you ol' gasbag? You didn't go out chain-polymorphing like last time, did you?" the man said, nudging Jake with a sly grin on his face. Jake let out a quiet but apathetic chuckle with a grin that said, "Ha-ha! Good one!" to the human but really meant, "Shut the hell up and get over yourself".
The other guard shook his head and started heading for the chapel steps. He grabbed the warrior who had attempted to assault Jake, jerking him from his egotistic stance of false-tedium like a dog on a leash, and to help the analogy, the brute yelped in surprise, causing a slight smirk to tug at Jakes lip.
"So what brings you to the Plaguelands this time around, Gas?" asked the man. Jake looked at him for what seemed to be several minutes of very uncomfortable silence.
He realized he couldn't feign his recognition of the man any longer, so he broke the tension and asked rather rudely, "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
The man looked taken aback, almost hurt. "You… don't remember me? Gas, we've been friends for years! It's me! Duke Nicholas!" There was another uncomfortable moment of silence and he raised his hands, palms up in helplessness. "Duke Nicholas Zverenhoff!" he added, as if it would trigger something.
"I'm… sorry… I haven't been able to remember much of … anything lately… I think I hit my head on something ."
And with that statement, he zoned out again. Jake was daydreaming of another setting – a dimly lit room filled with blurry figures of what he could make out as busy bustling populace walking in and out of doors and chatting eagerly with supposed colleagues. It contrasted from the three more crystalline figures standing idly, but expectantly, in the middle of a cleared circular area in the center of the room.
"Gas?"
Jake jumped. "Whoa… what happened?" Nicholas hesitated, and looked carefully at Jakes expression with a serious look of concern on his face.
"Gas, are you feeling alright?"
"I… just sort of… zoned out," he managed. Jake knew that he had a wandering attention span, but he would never have blanked out so daftly, especially in the middle of such an awkward conversation.
"I think I'll have a talk with Rimblat, I'm sure he'll know what to make of this." Jake watched the confused Duke run over and begin conversing franticly to a hulking Tauren. It was the first time Jake had seen a real-life Tauren (as far as that statement goes realistically). He was fascinated and continued to observe the impressive form of the man-bovine. He was heavily outfitted in shamanistic-looking clothing and bore the mark of the Earthen Ring on his tabard. He seemed to be paired up with an unfeasibly beautiful night elf woman, who he noted was a member of the Cenarion Circle.
A Tauren and a night elf, eh?
"What's the meaning of this? Scandalous, undead scum in the midst of our sanctuary?" said a high squeaky voice from behind. Before any inappropriate jokes came to mind, Jake turned around to face whoever made the comment, only to find a bald, brawny-looking man staring off into the distance, who had taken no notice that he was there.
"Down here," said the same shrill voice. Jake glanced towards his feet and almost jumped. There was a tiny, pink-haired woman scowling up at him and looking very insulted; she couldn't have been more than two-feet tall.
"Oh," she scoffed. "A forsaken. Why, the Argent Dawn accepts help from the likes of your kind is beyond me. It's almost blasphemous, if I do say so myself."
Jake frowned, looking at the diminutive human. Dressed in miniature plate mail and carrying what he identified as a mace, he recognized her as being one of the allied races called Gnomes. Most of the race was recognized as having fully developed, if miniaturized versions of an adult human body with facial features of almost angelic children. Their innocent faces gave them a deceptive quality of being harmless, which Jake knew to be very much not the case. Their reputation in the game had become one that mixed humiliation with loathing. Seeing the reality of the particular one before him, he realized that even for being a gnome, she was hideous.
"Interesting choice of hair color… What's your name, pipsqueak ?" The scowl intensified in response to the nickname.
"My name is Betina Bigglezink, and this is my natural hair color!" she spewed, followed by an annoyed grunt.
"Ouch… you must have been irritable from the start then, especially with a name like that," said Jake, Barely managing to maintain a neutral expression. Betina gritted her teeth, apparently making a growling noise. Or, at least, that's what Jake assumed, as it sounded more like one of those scared little dogs you see in glass cases at a pet shop. The idea of being potentially intimidated by a gnome of this stature almost caused him to burst out laughing.
Just as she was reaching for the gnome-sized mace at her belt, Duke Nicholas called Jake over to join the conversation he was having with Rimblat.
And then, it happened again, the same image as before, but everything was crystal clear. He could make out the three figures standing in the center of the room. Two undead and what he recognized as a female troll were staring back at him intently. He saw a blur as he faintly made out the faces of the three, and realized that one of the two undead was talking. He heard words from a very deep and very agitated voice. "Accept the portal! Accept the portal, Gasalyn!"
"Gas!"
He was back at the chapel, with a less-confused looking Duke Nicholas waving his hand in Jake's face.
"There you are. Explain what you're seeing in these daydreams to my friend Rimblat here. He's anxious to know the details, and he's pretty sure he knows what the problem is."
Jake looked at the Tauren, who was patiently awaiting his response. Behind him he could see Betina scowling menacingly in his direction, tapping her foot with her arms crossed. God I hate gnomes…
"I, uh…" He cleared his throat, "Well, I see an orange-shaded room with lots of people, and there are three of them looking at me telling me to … accept the portal…"
The Tauren smiled and let out a little chuckle. "Gasalyn, your friends are trying to summon you in Orgrimmar. You need to stop ignoring the message and to simply let it happen." Jake stared blankly. Summon me? Friends in Orgrimmar?
With a rush of excitement, the thought of the others he was with before all of this started came to mind. Could they all be in Orgrimmar waiting for me?
Once again, the scene was as clear as reality. The other undead was speaking to him instead, and although the female voice was unfamiliar, Jake recognized the very slight accent behind it. "Jake, accept the damned portal!" it blurted, almost desperately.
Jake opened his eyes (which he hadn't realized were closed), and felt the weight of the mental intrusion lift and take the form of a spectacular distortion of the space before him. It was as if somebody had taken a quick picture of the scene in front of him and was stretching it outwards, warping it until it finally tore. Through this tear in the space in front of him, Jake made out the setting that was in his head, and with it, the relieved expressions of its three mysterious inhabitants.
The female of the undead plopped to the ground, still conscious but only barely, gasping for breath as if she'd just run a few marathons.
"Christ, Gas, do you know how hard it is to open a portal like that? I had to make four of those! Four frickin' summoning portals before you finally-" She caught her breath and just sat there for a moment, trying to calm down.
Jake should have felt embarrassed or ashamed, but neither of the two emotions came through, as they were blocked by his fascination with the renegade use of the laws of time, space, and physics. He paced around the portal gate, inquisitively noting how the circle of distortion followed his perspective at whatever angle he held his line of sight at.
"Come on, Gasalyn, it's tedious enough that we had to summon you four times before you finally accepted our hailing," said the deeper voice. "Please, waste no more time in going through the portal; we can finish business with the Argent Dawn and the Brotherhood of Light at a later date."
Jake looked helplessly at Nicholas and Rimblat, expecting some kind of instruction on how to progress. Rimblat simply pushed his hand forward, ushering Jake to walk through the portal. "Go on, don't keep them waiting," he said.
Jake gulped and stepped closer to the portal. He held out his hand, hesitantly testing the viscosity, if any, of the material. There was a slight tension that was broken around his arm as it felt its way through two dimensions; similar to the feeling of being half submerged in a pool of water. He held his breath and walked into the portal.
As he faded from view, a set of floating red eyes flashed brightly from behind the Tauren and those gathered around him. With an almost inaudible hiss, the eyes dimmed and quickly headed off into the wilds of the Plaguelands.
Without any time passing, other than that of stepping from one room to another; Jake was in an entirely different setting. The muffled sound of a restless city was audible through the walls of the room. The setting sun shone a glare of beautiful warm colors just over the massive stone valley walls of the city limits, its rays peering through the door-less archway into the building he had been summoned. The rancid stench of death that he had finally begun to tolerate in the Plaguelands had vanished, with the exception of the faint scent he/she and the two other undead emanated.
Masharret, the only one of the trio understanding Gasalyn's perplexed astonishment, put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Welcome to Orgrimmar."
Hours had gone by as they walked directionless; every mile they put behind them was another measure of distance from the life they had known. Nutharen was so lost in thought he almost didn't hear Radamantis' question. He turned to face Rad with a quizzical look on his face, "Huh, wuzzat?"
"I asked if you had any food in that backpack you're carrying. I'm starting to get hungry again, and I don't want to try scouting for anything after what happened last time."
"Yeah," the huge Tauren sighed. "I- I mean no… I don't know."
"Well, let's find out shall we?"
"Sure," he replied listlessly and shrugged off the backpack as he sat down.
Oreo tentatively sidled up against his master and carefully nuzzled his hand. Nutharen started slightly at the touch of the scaly head but reassuringly petted his faithful pet.
"Hey there, big guy. I bet you're hungry too. Let's see if there is anything in here for you as well." He started to unclasp the oversized pack as Rad flopped down next to them and pulled off his boots.
"Damn, this walking is killing me…" He paused for a moment and then began to snicker, a sound which caused chills to race up Nutharen's' spine. He shuddered slightly and turned an annoyed look on the diminutive humanoid.
"What's so funny?"
"Killing me…" That was all he got out before he began to roll on the ground holding his sides and rocking in inhuman laughter.
A smile crept onto the bovine features, and then the humor of the paradoxical statement became fully apparent and they were soon both roaring with laughter while a confused reptile looked on with dubious curiosity.
After a few minutes they were wiping tears from their eyes and catching their breaths lying on their backs.
"Oh man, I needed that," Nutharen rumbled with a sigh.
"Yeah, me too, I guess," Rad replied, sitting up. "Now, let's see what's in that pack of yours."
"Right." The big humanoid pulled the pack closer as he swung himself up into a sitting position and began to rummage through it. He started pulling things out and laying them beside him, naming them off as he went.
"Let's see, looks like bandages, those ought to come in handy, um… berries of some kind…" He held the berries out to the curious raptor who sniffed at them and snorted, blowing them out of his hand.
"Didn't think so, but figured I'd try," he said with a grin, and Rad chuckled with a rasp.
"Um, this looks like some kind of Ore," he said with recognition in his voice as he pulled out a chuck of smooth dark stone that had a bluish/black tint to it.
"Adamantite?" Rad questioned as he reached for the stone being handed to him.
"Not sure, actually. I can sort of remember what it's supposed to look like, but I also have this feeling like I know exactly what it is too."
Rad looked up at him with a dawning comprehension in his eyes.
"Hey, yeah, now that you mention it, I've had that same feeling too. Like when I was using the blade to cut the watermelon, it felt natural, like I had been using a weapon for years."
"Yeah," Nutharen said hesitantly. "You know… even when Oreo was… well when what happened at the farm was going on, it felt wrong, but familiar, like he had always done that for me, and it was what was supposed to happen."
He paused for a few minutes, and Rad knew anything he said would be useless at that moment, so kept quiet.
The Tauren shook his horned head angrily as a tear slid down his furred snout.
"I've never seen anyone killed before," the words seemed to tumble out in a rush. "I mean not, in real life anyway. I've thought at times I could do it if I had to, you know, to protect someone or if they deserved it for some reason or if I was angry enough." He paused again, looking at the horned and scaly beast that was looking back at him with an almost forlorn look.
Then his head swung back to look at Rad, a fierce look in his eyes and when he spoke again, there was an edge to his voice that sounded nothing like the Harley that Joe had known for years.
"The human deserved it," he rumbled. "A stupid and cowardly lot they are, killing anything they don't understand. Would that I had been in control, they all would have perished." He punctuated this statement by slamming his fist into the soft ground leaving a sizable hole. Sensing his master's anger, the raptor backed up a step and lowered its head, bearing its teeth with a low growl, and Rad leapt to his feet with a cry of astonishment.
"Harley!" he shouted in disbelief.
The Tauren grabbed his head, and a momentary internal struggle could almost be seen in his widened eyes. Then, just as suddenly, he was looking at Rad in confusion and dismay.
"Wh- what was that?!" His voice trembled slightly.
Oreo took a tentative step forward and sniffed the frightened face of his owner.
Rad tilted his head, a cagey look on his face. "What do you remember?"
"I'm not sure," he paused and rubbed his eyes. "And for a moment there, I was seeing things from a distance, I think. And I heard what I said, but that wasn't me, or at least not Harley me." He looked up at Rad with a confused look as the undead rogue stared back with a noncommittal nod.
Nutharen, and he had begun to think of himself from that perspective, shook his head muttering, "Whatever, let's figure that out later." He began to rummage through the pack some more and found a hock of meat that he offered to Oreo. The reptilian predator eagerly grabbed the chunk of protein, set it on the ground and used one of his vicious looking claws to hold it down while he tore off bite sized portions to gulp down.
"Well, he certainly looks happier," Rad observed.
"Yeah, he does… Have you noticed that he seems to almost understand us?"
Rad reached up and scratched his non-existent stubble out of habit. "Hmm, now that you mention it, he does seem to have a bit more intelligence that you would think a prehistoric dinosaur should have. Then again, raptors were supposed to be pack hunters using tactics and outsmarting their prey. Who knows, it's not like we have anything to compare him too." He shrugged and raised his eyebrows with a look of concession.
"Good point. Hey…" the Taurens' voice took on a tone of curious wonder as he stopped rummaging through the pack and started to pull something out.
"What?" Rads' curiosity piqued, and he moved closer to see Nutharen hold up a miniature replica of a Kodo.
Known for their great size and stamina, the Kodo is the favored beast of burden used by the Taurens. Resembling a cross between a hippopotamus and a rhino with various markings ranging from brown with grey blotches to green and sometimes black, the Taurens mainly use the thick-legged beast as pack animals and mounts. When one of the rarer Black Kodos are born, they are trained from birth to be battle mounts. Having a natural genetic ability to be faster and more stable in battle, they are coveted by every race in the horde and are very valuable.
"Man, I could really use my mount right about now," Nutharen sighed.
Then, with an astonished cry he dropped the small statue to the ground and leapt to his feet, causing the raptor to forget its meal and bark in alarm. Rad also jumped back in confusion shouting, "What, what is it?!"
"It- it moved!" Nutharen stuttered in shock.
Then in a matter of seconds, the miniature statue had grown to the size of Volkswagen beetle, and standing before them was a fully grown black Kodo in full battle armor. A set of drums sat just forward and on either side of the hind hips, behind the saddle where some riders would pound out a battle call during wartime. The massive creature shook itself mightily, as if from a long sleep and chuffed at Nutharen eagerly.
"Good God…" The Tauren whispered in awe and looked over at Radamantis, who was staring in disbelief with his jaw hanging open almost too wide, unable to say anything.
"Careful Rad," Nut chided. "Your jaw is gonna fall off if you leave it open for too long."
Snapping his jaw shut and blinking rapidly, the diminutive rogue looked at his friend for a moment, then quickly un-shouldered his own pack and began to tear through it with abandon.
"HAH!" he cried in triumph as he held up a similar statue, his a white wolf.
"My friend," he grinned manically. "We are in business."
"What do you mean you're not supposed to be here?!" The massive Orc jumped up with a look of distaste and rage contorting his already horrific visage and making him even more intimidating.
"You were the one that organized this run in the first place!" Blackfire chimed in with her voice musical in disbelief.
With my brief spout of rage passed, I knew I had to think fast. There was no way I could explain what had happened in any way that would make sense to them, but I had the feeling I needed to be very convincing with the way they were brandishing their weapons. Without warning, my mouth started speaking with I voice I didn't know.
"We are all here for da same reason, mon. An' we are all affected by Cor's death da same wey." My hands went up in a placating gesture. "I know what I be sayin, and it be wrong; what I meant to be sayin was we shouldn't have to be workin so hard."
At that, Ravenfire's little head tilted, elongated ears dipping to the side, and one feathery eyebrow arched.
"The Suneater be in Pathaleon's chamber yes?"
Even Rhok seemed to have set aside his anger momentarily, his curiosity piqued as he nodded an affirmative.
"An' that chamber be upstairs at the end of the long corridor, yes?" my mouth continued as my head swiveled to look at the diminutive elf who nodded in agreement.
"Then let's be workin' smarter. Blackfire, you bein' all sneaky and makin' your wey to his chamber, locate dat Suneater an' be ready to grab it when you see us runnin to ya."
"Running?!" the gravelly voice of Rainfendi scraped its way through my ears.
"Yes runnin'." My tuskes bobbed with a nod.
"And what will we be running from, Shmee?" Rhok asked a grin slowly forming. "This sounds like one of your crazy plans."
"Dis be a speed run, so you be makin' sure dose stubby little Orc legs be keepin' up," my mouth, still not in my control, answered with a grin. "Here's what we be doin'; once we get up dat lift der I be Icin' down wit' me frost nova while Rhok be puttin his head down to slow what I don't stop. Rain, you be shieldin yourself, and Rhok and I be makin' our own shield.
"What about Nethermancer Sepethrea?!" Rainfendi asked incredulously.
"Dat bitch be too arrogant. She'll not be leavin' her little dais unless she be provoked."
Rhok rumbled out a chuckle at that and swung his clawed weapon a few times with a nod. "Alright, he growled, let's do this."
I watched as Blackfire, a last nod of her head and a wicked grin on her lips, faded from view and headed to the lift. Rhok and Rainfendi strode toward a selfsame elevator as the voice previously coming from my mouth sounded in my head.
You can be thankin' me later for savin' you ass. For now, get movin' and be keepin' mine friends safe. With a shake of my misshapen head and a feeling of unreality, I strode off after the others.
As soon as the lift hit the top, we all took off at a dead run. Rainfendi threw a glimmering pale shield up around Rhok and herself, and with a flick of my own wrist, a glistening icy barrier sprang up around me as well. Seconds after our arrival, Blood Elves dressed in red and gold robes, armor, and huge humanoid mechanical automatons scrambled at our approach. One of the female elves was gesticulating wildly and barking out words in a language I didn't understand to procure a blue glow around her hands. Even though the words were foreign to me, I still recognized casting when I saw it. I (or Shmeegun) spat out the words to a counter spell, shutting her down in mid-cast. Howling in rage, she drew a dagger and joined the mass of assailants headed our way. Waiting until the last possible moment, I threw my hands forward with a shout, and in an instant all our attackers' feet and legs were encased in i ce . Just before the corner, I caught a glimpse of Sepethrea in all her horrific splendor on her dais, and saw that Shmee had been correct as she threw me a contemptuous sneer and turned away.
Turning the corner at a near sprint, Rhok was in the lead with Rainfendi a close second. There were four more Blood Elves in red and gold about twenty yards in, and the closest one started casting, an action the charging Orc brought to a bloody end with a swipe of his claw. I countered the other caster as I brought up the rear and encased them in ice as I passed. Not much further along the passage, one of the massive automatons came to life and alerted three more of the beautiful but deadly Elves. As they came up behind the mechanical goliath, Rhok roared and slammed as hard as his three hundred and fifty pounds would allow into the leg of the golem, momentarily stunning all of his opponents with his ferocity. The outcome of his seemingly crazy maneuver was exactly what the green-skinned fury had hoped for as the l umbering machine toppled off balance, falling backward and crushing two of the much smaller Blood Elves, killing them instantly. The third was too stunned to do anything but stand and stare as we bolted past into the chamber beyond.
Rounded into a cylindrical shape, the large chamber had clear crystal floors that joined with the quartz-looking walls extending upward and seamlessly flowed into a coned ceiling. At its center stood Pathaleon, a male Blood Elf. His build was stockier then most of his race, and his gold and red robes were a tight fit over his bulky frame; his build made the staff he was carrying look small in his hands. Eyes seething, he turned at our less than stealthy approach.
"How dare you disturb my calculations?!" his voice boomed off the multifaceted walls. Right then, a thought I had spoken aloud many times while playing the game came to mind as I cast a quick but devastating blast of fire directly in his face. Gods, would you just shut up!
The intense heat of the blast singed the hair and skin on his face and head, causing him to quickly squeeze his eyes, shout, and turn away.
"Now, Blackfire!" Rhok bellowed.
The exit to the left was a door made of crystal and steel, its appearance belying its strength. The slight form of the rogue appeared in front of it with a massive red and black sword in hand. Leaning the weapon against the door she deftly worked the opening mechanism just before Rhok plowed into it, swinging it wide for our escape. As soon as we were out, the Orc turned and applied his straining bulk to slam it closed.
"Shmee… quick… portal..." he gasped.
"Where?!" I gasped back trying to catch my breath.
"Shattrath," he grunted and coughed.
Crouching and feeling the all too familiar glow surround me as I summoned a portal to transport us to the safe haven that resided in Outland, I spoke quietly to the other resident in my head.
"We need to talk," I murmured.
Ya, mon. We do.