Warcraft: Exile
Prologue
Lightning crisscrossed the blood red sky. Violent winds threw coarse sand up in the air, much of it flying through the eye sockets of Teron Gorefiend. There were no eyeballs for the sand to blind however, and the airborne dirt did nothing to impede his spectral sight. He, the mortal orcs who bowed before him and his fallen wizards now imprisoned within reanimated husks had struck out on their own, leaving their 'leader'- Orc Warchief Ner'zhul to his fate. If the mad shaman, so obsessed with his own petty schemes he was blind to the outside world, even noticed their desertion he was likely past caring.
To the Twisting Nether with that scatterminded fop, Gorefiend silently oathed. Since returning from Azeroth with the journal of a dead magician Ner'zhul had ignored what was happening outside his sanctum. Humans had come into the Orc homeworld with a vengeance. Zeth'kur was sacked and its ships left burning while knights and dwarf gunmen had slaughtered the Shattered Hand Orcs on their way to exterminate the Bleeding Hollow clan at Auchindoun. The support promised by Deathwing and his dragons never came, but the Warchief cared naught about any of it.
Well Gorefiend would not stand by and wait for death to claim him again. The Ogre Mage Dentarg had foreseen the Warsong Clan attacking the human garrison Hellfire Citadel in the hope of fighting their way into Azeroth. With the pace Teron and his followers made they would hopefully reach Hellfire when the fighting was at its earnest, then blast both weakened factions and invade the humans' world without resistance.
Of course if things went according to plan Gorefiend would have never needed to be brought back from the dead. The rehearsed shriek reached Gorefiend's nonexistent ears. Looking up the warlock saw Kraugg return from his patrol. Black wings folded behind the half-dragon Orc as he bowed his head to Teron, "Two armies are heading towards Ner'zhul's location. Humans march side by side with Orcs bearing the colours and banners of the Laughing Skull clan."
"Traitors!!" one of the Orc Necrolytes, those of Gorefiend's followers that still drew breath- shouted.
"Should they waste their lives fighting on the losing side just to buy time for a mad fool?" Gorefiend retorted before he turned to Kraugg, "How strong are these armies?"
"Large enough to crush Ner'zhul and the few followers he has left. But they're taking the straightest route through the Blade's Edge Mountains- a place most suitable for ambush."
A warlock approached Gorefiend, "Great Blackguard, why endanger ourselves by attacking these flesh worms? Let them kill Ner'zhul for us."
Sickly green fires flared in Gorefiend's eye sockets, "Perhaps- but they might not reach Ner'zhul in time to stop whatever he's planning. No, we'll kill these conquering heroes, and draw upon their life energies to take us to a safe world where no one has resisted our kind before."
Kraugg's wings stretched out and pushed him back into the air, "I will show you where they march."
The Humans and their new allies stomped through the beaten road at a fierce pace. Both heads of the Laughing Skull chieftain Mogor, the Ogre Mage bellowed curses and threats to his warriors. Varien Wynn eschewed verbal abuse; choosing to motivate his Humans, as well as the Dwarves, Elves and Gnomes in their ranks; by belting out ballads which the troops joined in eagerly.
It appeared to Gorefiend that in the Human army there were women, as well as Elf and Dwarf females. Perhaps their victories had been more costly than he realized; their men had suffered such severe losses they were forced to recruit women. Or maybe they never were content merely to stop Ner'zhul from learning to create portals to other worlds; maybe they intended to colonize this planet all along. But if they succeeded in slaying Ner'zhul and crushed the Warsong clan, where would that leave the Laughing Skull? Would the Humans really consider coexisting with Orcs; and could Orcs that would side against their species be trusted?
It mattered not, really. He would take their lives here and use them for his own. As Gorefiend readied to signal the ambush the unthinkable happened.
Across the sky and upon the ground thousands of spatial rifts; much like the one that connected Draenor to Azeroth, opened from nowhere! Teron was aghast. Had Ner'zhul truly gone mad? The stresses from so many rifts at once would tear the planet apart. The very ground cracked under his feet, winds grew into tree tearing ferocity and in the distance a mountain was blasted apart by a colossal geyser beneath it.
The Humans and traitorous Orcs quickly realized the gravity of the situation and bolted toward the nearest rift. The Laughing Skull warriors reached it first and thundered through to whatever lay on the other side. Upon reaching the opening the human prince and dwarf leader waved their subjects through ahead of themselves.
Gorefiend decided his one chance of escape was fading. He shouted to his followers to be ready to run, and ordered his undead warlocks to prepare a concealment spell. At one the deserters began to move.
Prologue
Lightning crisscrossed the blood red sky. Violent winds threw coarse sand up in the air, much of it flying through the eye sockets of Teron Gorefiend. There were no eyeballs for the sand to blind however, and the airborne dirt did nothing to impede his spectral sight. He, the mortal orcs who bowed before him and his fallen wizards now imprisoned within reanimated husks had struck out on their own, leaving their 'leader'- Orc Warchief Ner'zhul to his fate. If the mad shaman, so obsessed with his own petty schemes he was blind to the outside world, even noticed their desertion he was likely past caring.
To the Twisting Nether with that scatterminded fop, Gorefiend silently oathed. Since returning from Azeroth with the journal of a dead magician Ner'zhul had ignored what was happening outside his sanctum. Humans had come into the Orc homeworld with a vengeance. Zeth'kur was sacked and its ships left burning while knights and dwarf gunmen had slaughtered the Shattered Hand Orcs on their way to exterminate the Bleeding Hollow clan at Auchindoun. The support promised by Deathwing and his dragons never came, but the Warchief cared naught about any of it.
Well Gorefiend would not stand by and wait for death to claim him again. The Ogre Mage Dentarg had foreseen the Warsong Clan attacking the human garrison Hellfire Citadel in the hope of fighting their way into Azeroth. With the pace Teron and his followers made they would hopefully reach Hellfire when the fighting was at its earnest, then blast both weakened factions and invade the humans' world without resistance.
Of course if things went according to plan Gorefiend would have never needed to be brought back from the dead. The rehearsed shriek reached Gorefiend's nonexistent ears. Looking up the warlock saw Kraugg return from his patrol. Black wings folded behind the half-dragon Orc as he bowed his head to Teron, "Two armies are heading towards Ner'zhul's location. Humans march side by side with Orcs bearing the colours and banners of the Laughing Skull clan."
"Traitors!!" one of the Orc Necrolytes, those of Gorefiend's followers that still drew breath- shouted.
"Should they waste their lives fighting on the losing side just to buy time for a mad fool?" Gorefiend retorted before he turned to Kraugg, "How strong are these armies?"
"Large enough to crush Ner'zhul and the few followers he has left. But they're taking the straightest route through the Blade's Edge Mountains- a place most suitable for ambush."
A warlock approached Gorefiend, "Great Blackguard, why endanger ourselves by attacking these flesh worms? Let them kill Ner'zhul for us."
Sickly green fires flared in Gorefiend's eye sockets, "Perhaps- but they might not reach Ner'zhul in time to stop whatever he's planning. No, we'll kill these conquering heroes, and draw upon their life energies to take us to a safe world where no one has resisted our kind before."
Kraugg's wings stretched out and pushed him back into the air, "I will show you where they march."
The Humans and their new allies stomped through the beaten road at a fierce pace. Both heads of the Laughing Skull chieftain Mogor, the Ogre Mage bellowed curses and threats to his warriors. Varien Wynn eschewed verbal abuse; choosing to motivate his Humans, as well as the Dwarves, Elves and Gnomes in their ranks; by belting out ballads which the troops joined in eagerly.
It appeared to Gorefiend that in the Human army there were women, as well as Elf and Dwarf females. Perhaps their victories had been more costly than he realized; their men had suffered such severe losses they were forced to recruit women. Or maybe they never were content merely to stop Ner'zhul from learning to create portals to other worlds; maybe they intended to colonize this planet all along. But if they succeeded in slaying Ner'zhul and crushed the Warsong clan, where would that leave the Laughing Skull? Would the Humans really consider coexisting with Orcs; and could Orcs that would side against their species be trusted?
It mattered not, really. He would take their lives here and use them for his own. As Gorefiend readied to signal the ambush the unthinkable happened.
Across the sky and upon the ground thousands of spatial rifts; much like the one that connected Draenor to Azeroth, opened from nowhere! Teron was aghast. Had Ner'zhul truly gone mad? The stresses from so many rifts at once would tear the planet apart. The very ground cracked under his feet, winds grew into tree tearing ferocity and in the distance a mountain was blasted apart by a colossal geyser beneath it.
The Humans and traitorous Orcs quickly realized the gravity of the situation and bolted toward the nearest rift. The Laughing Skull warriors reached it first and thundered through to whatever lay on the other side. Upon reaching the opening the human prince and dwarf leader waved their subjects through ahead of themselves.
Gorefiend decided his one chance of escape was fading. He shouted to his followers to be ready to run, and ordered his undead warlocks to prepare a concealment spell. At one the deserters began to move.
