Hey, all. Sorry, it's been a while, but I do have homework. Anyway, I
decided to make the begging of the story a dream sequence of events in the
future, taking off from where the narrator ended his beginning of his story
the previous chapter. Boy, that was probably confusing! Just the way I
like it! Thank you for reading, and (hopefully) reviewing, and here it
comes. The next chapter.
He laughed at my misfortune. "Ha ha ha ha ha! Puny fool. Did you truly maintain the belief that you could stop my conquest?" I leaned against the rock wall, then slowly slid down it, the blood and cartilage wiping itself across the back of my armor. "No, I never thought I could stop you. I just." I never finished the sentence that I never would come up with an ending for, because I had struck out, quickly, and violently, cutting open his over elaborate armor at the chest. "Gah!" he yelled, and leaped back like a scarred little bird. Far less graceful, though. He crashed to the hard rock ground, further damaging his weakened plate mail. I stood, as well as I could, with a crippled limb. Suddenly, he grabbed my ankle, and rolled towards the edge of the ground, which would lead into a sudden drop, then to the water that our armor would drown us in.
After the raid, I wandered the lands, loosing sense of location, direction, and time. A few weeks after my departure from the raid location, I removed my armor. Having fought many times, now, in battle with the undead, and also having attempted unmounted travel, I started a fire, and made corrections that would allow ease of travel, as well as slightly increased defense. I also began learning the magical arts of healing, and of a form of defense, not of the shield, the armor, or the thick skin, but of the magic and the mind.
I watched many battles being fought, between all sides, and learned some of each of their arts. The night elves, hiding and remaining honor less, but maintaining the great powers of nature, and utilizing them fully. The orcs, with their brutal powers, spells of pure destruction, yet full of honor and greatness, strength and resolve. The humans, now seen from an outside perspective, eating the few resources they had, taking what wasn't theirs, but fighting for what they believed morally correct. The undead, using the unholy magics, the evilest things, killing there own to make a stronger warrior, yet horribly efficient, powerful, and subservient to their leaders.
None alone could take these lands from one another, but each could hold their own. Nearly like a four-sided Ying Yang, where each were constantly changing possessions, loosing and winning equal amounts, making for a world that was only good, yet would become horribly worse without one. Yet my disrespect for the undead grew. Really, they did not fit in this world. Nor did the burning legion, a power not yet wielded in these lands, as harshly as they soon would be. Both could be removed, and would be a far better land for it. I grew determined, as I found a goal. To unify all of the three decent groups, real unification that had not been possible under the monarchy our majesty had. And to crush the two evils, under the heels of our boots, and chase them trough their own lands, banished forever to the ethereal Hells. Later I wondered if it were good. Had not this been thought of of the orcs, before the night elves emerged, and the coming of the undead? But they had been under the spell of the burning legion. Were the undead redeemable? No, they were now fighting the legion, yet were as foul as ever.
One battle I wandered across was between the orcish hordes and the undead. In this battle, I saw Arthas himself grace the battle. Two orc heroes fought, both drawing closer and closer to the Death Knight. Intentionally. They intended to kill him. He was not yet undead, and even of they destroyed his revival altar, his remains would be brought to the Sunwell. But, for now, it was a good goal. Worry about the Sunwell when we got that far. I quickly joined in against the undead. The orcs were surprised at my coming. They had not been a part of His Majesty's alliance.
As I fought, hacking and slashing at the undead, and crushing their piled corpses beneath my feet, I saw a flag bearer for the clan. Yes, in fact, they had been a part of the alliance. So what was with the odd gazes?
We crushed the Scourge faster than seemed possible. Me, the Blade master, and the Tauren chieftain reached Arthas at nearly the same time. He challenged any one of us to a single duel against him. The Tauren chieftain quickly agreed. All the rest of the army backed away from the area. They readied their weapons, and charged.
Arthas was mounted, so he came faster, and had a great advantage. His Frostmoure stabbed into the tree trunk the Chieftain held, and Arthas tossed the great log aside as though it were kindling. And it shattered on the ground, quickly becoming kindling. The chief's rage built, and he swung his arm like a club, knocking the great war horse from under the Death Knight. Arthas recovered his legs, and pulled back, out of the range of the Chief. The great Tauren warrior charged, and grabbed a hold of the blade, Frostmourne. He, with his other hand, pulled Arthas's long, once blonde-gold, now death white hair. Now it was the Tauren's turn to do the tossing. He tossed the great, metal clad warrior far. He hit the ground with a bone-grinding crunch, bet the Possessed Prince stood quickly. He readied his sword, and waited for the Tauren's next charge. The Chief obliged, due to his blinding bloodlust. By some miracle, the Tauren was able to get a hold of Arthas, and, with a hoof, pushed into Arthas' skull clad knee, breaking bone after bone. Arthas collapsed, and, with a flourish, tossed his blade into the air. Arthas seemed dead. His blade landed tip down, slightly tilted. The War chief of the Taurens reached quickly down to check Arthas' pulse, seemed satisfied, and walked to the blade, as the Blade master and I were arriving to it.
The Tauren said, his bloodlust fading, "It is yours, Thunderkill. You are more suited to it." Thunderkill mumbled, so only I could hear it "That was too easy" I could see he did not want it stated loudly, for the Tauren would probably take it for an insult. He paced forward, put his hand so it was nearly wrapping around it but not touching it. "It was far to easy" He repeated, this time louder. "To easy?!? TO EASY!?! That was the hardest battle I've ever fought!" The Chieftain raged. "I don't trust it. You can have it if you want." He spoke to me, but the Tauren, hot tempered as he was and having killed the previous owner himself, ran forward and grabbed the handle. As soon as his fist wrapped around the handle, Frostmourne disappeared. The Tauren waited a moment. He started heaving with a horrible anger. He turned slightly purple, grew larger, and turned around. His eyes were larger than was natural, and he quaked down to his bones. He charged at us. The blade master, Thunderkill, backed away as fast as he could go backwards, befuddled. As he ran past me, I, having figured out he was no longer quite exactly friendly, stabbed my sword into his knee. He fell to his knees. (the opposite way you would think, because Tauren and human kneecaps face different directions.) He swung his entire torso around in a srike for me. I was knocked far back. Clearly, Thunderkill wasn't ready to take initiative and attack hia Tauren once-friend. Neither was his army. The Possesed Tauren, despite his painful wound and the sword in his knee, stood up, breaking the sword on his obviously hardened bones. He charged me again, and, as he neared, I fell backwards, stabbing my sword into his chest, swinging him over me with my anchored sword and foot, and collapsing him on my other side. I stood, and chopped his head off, splattering the sand with Tauren blood. He was dead, and the possession by the Phantom Frostmourne had disabled his Reincarnation ability. I heaved a great sigh, and sat. Thunderkill came up to me. He said, mournfully, "You saved my life, and the lives of many of my men. What overtook Ironhoof, I have no idea. But you, human, are a friend. Unlike your king, I might add, who so recently seceded from the alliance, completely shattering it"
I was amazed. The king was a fool without me. Or maybe. maybe. But me and this Thunderkill, we needed to talk. We needed to talk a lot.
Whew. That is probably the most I've ever written in one sitting. Another chapter will not be added unless I get some good reviews, or at least some reviews at all. Also check back from time to time, I may update my chapters. But, now, REVIEW!!! FOOL!!!
He laughed at my misfortune. "Ha ha ha ha ha! Puny fool. Did you truly maintain the belief that you could stop my conquest?" I leaned against the rock wall, then slowly slid down it, the blood and cartilage wiping itself across the back of my armor. "No, I never thought I could stop you. I just." I never finished the sentence that I never would come up with an ending for, because I had struck out, quickly, and violently, cutting open his over elaborate armor at the chest. "Gah!" he yelled, and leaped back like a scarred little bird. Far less graceful, though. He crashed to the hard rock ground, further damaging his weakened plate mail. I stood, as well as I could, with a crippled limb. Suddenly, he grabbed my ankle, and rolled towards the edge of the ground, which would lead into a sudden drop, then to the water that our armor would drown us in.
After the raid, I wandered the lands, loosing sense of location, direction, and time. A few weeks after my departure from the raid location, I removed my armor. Having fought many times, now, in battle with the undead, and also having attempted unmounted travel, I started a fire, and made corrections that would allow ease of travel, as well as slightly increased defense. I also began learning the magical arts of healing, and of a form of defense, not of the shield, the armor, or the thick skin, but of the magic and the mind.
I watched many battles being fought, between all sides, and learned some of each of their arts. The night elves, hiding and remaining honor less, but maintaining the great powers of nature, and utilizing them fully. The orcs, with their brutal powers, spells of pure destruction, yet full of honor and greatness, strength and resolve. The humans, now seen from an outside perspective, eating the few resources they had, taking what wasn't theirs, but fighting for what they believed morally correct. The undead, using the unholy magics, the evilest things, killing there own to make a stronger warrior, yet horribly efficient, powerful, and subservient to their leaders.
None alone could take these lands from one another, but each could hold their own. Nearly like a four-sided Ying Yang, where each were constantly changing possessions, loosing and winning equal amounts, making for a world that was only good, yet would become horribly worse without one. Yet my disrespect for the undead grew. Really, they did not fit in this world. Nor did the burning legion, a power not yet wielded in these lands, as harshly as they soon would be. Both could be removed, and would be a far better land for it. I grew determined, as I found a goal. To unify all of the three decent groups, real unification that had not been possible under the monarchy our majesty had. And to crush the two evils, under the heels of our boots, and chase them trough their own lands, banished forever to the ethereal Hells. Later I wondered if it were good. Had not this been thought of of the orcs, before the night elves emerged, and the coming of the undead? But they had been under the spell of the burning legion. Were the undead redeemable? No, they were now fighting the legion, yet were as foul as ever.
One battle I wandered across was between the orcish hordes and the undead. In this battle, I saw Arthas himself grace the battle. Two orc heroes fought, both drawing closer and closer to the Death Knight. Intentionally. They intended to kill him. He was not yet undead, and even of they destroyed his revival altar, his remains would be brought to the Sunwell. But, for now, it was a good goal. Worry about the Sunwell when we got that far. I quickly joined in against the undead. The orcs were surprised at my coming. They had not been a part of His Majesty's alliance.
As I fought, hacking and slashing at the undead, and crushing their piled corpses beneath my feet, I saw a flag bearer for the clan. Yes, in fact, they had been a part of the alliance. So what was with the odd gazes?
We crushed the Scourge faster than seemed possible. Me, the Blade master, and the Tauren chieftain reached Arthas at nearly the same time. He challenged any one of us to a single duel against him. The Tauren chieftain quickly agreed. All the rest of the army backed away from the area. They readied their weapons, and charged.
Arthas was mounted, so he came faster, and had a great advantage. His Frostmoure stabbed into the tree trunk the Chieftain held, and Arthas tossed the great log aside as though it were kindling. And it shattered on the ground, quickly becoming kindling. The chief's rage built, and he swung his arm like a club, knocking the great war horse from under the Death Knight. Arthas recovered his legs, and pulled back, out of the range of the Chief. The great Tauren warrior charged, and grabbed a hold of the blade, Frostmourne. He, with his other hand, pulled Arthas's long, once blonde-gold, now death white hair. Now it was the Tauren's turn to do the tossing. He tossed the great, metal clad warrior far. He hit the ground with a bone-grinding crunch, bet the Possessed Prince stood quickly. He readied his sword, and waited for the Tauren's next charge. The Chief obliged, due to his blinding bloodlust. By some miracle, the Tauren was able to get a hold of Arthas, and, with a hoof, pushed into Arthas' skull clad knee, breaking bone after bone. Arthas collapsed, and, with a flourish, tossed his blade into the air. Arthas seemed dead. His blade landed tip down, slightly tilted. The War chief of the Taurens reached quickly down to check Arthas' pulse, seemed satisfied, and walked to the blade, as the Blade master and I were arriving to it.
The Tauren said, his bloodlust fading, "It is yours, Thunderkill. You are more suited to it." Thunderkill mumbled, so only I could hear it "That was too easy" I could see he did not want it stated loudly, for the Tauren would probably take it for an insult. He paced forward, put his hand so it was nearly wrapping around it but not touching it. "It was far to easy" He repeated, this time louder. "To easy?!? TO EASY!?! That was the hardest battle I've ever fought!" The Chieftain raged. "I don't trust it. You can have it if you want." He spoke to me, but the Tauren, hot tempered as he was and having killed the previous owner himself, ran forward and grabbed the handle. As soon as his fist wrapped around the handle, Frostmourne disappeared. The Tauren waited a moment. He started heaving with a horrible anger. He turned slightly purple, grew larger, and turned around. His eyes were larger than was natural, and he quaked down to his bones. He charged at us. The blade master, Thunderkill, backed away as fast as he could go backwards, befuddled. As he ran past me, I, having figured out he was no longer quite exactly friendly, stabbed my sword into his knee. He fell to his knees. (the opposite way you would think, because Tauren and human kneecaps face different directions.) He swung his entire torso around in a srike for me. I was knocked far back. Clearly, Thunderkill wasn't ready to take initiative and attack hia Tauren once-friend. Neither was his army. The Possesed Tauren, despite his painful wound and the sword in his knee, stood up, breaking the sword on his obviously hardened bones. He charged me again, and, as he neared, I fell backwards, stabbing my sword into his chest, swinging him over me with my anchored sword and foot, and collapsing him on my other side. I stood, and chopped his head off, splattering the sand with Tauren blood. He was dead, and the possession by the Phantom Frostmourne had disabled his Reincarnation ability. I heaved a great sigh, and sat. Thunderkill came up to me. He said, mournfully, "You saved my life, and the lives of many of my men. What overtook Ironhoof, I have no idea. But you, human, are a friend. Unlike your king, I might add, who so recently seceded from the alliance, completely shattering it"
I was amazed. The king was a fool without me. Or maybe. maybe. But me and this Thunderkill, we needed to talk. We needed to talk a lot.
Whew. That is probably the most I've ever written in one sitting. Another chapter will not be added unless I get some good reviews, or at least some reviews at all. Also check back from time to time, I may update my chapters. But, now, REVIEW!!! FOOL!!!