Warcraft: Exile

Chapter 1: One Problem at a Time

Varien Wrynn opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the battle-scarred face of the Dwarf Kurdan. Hardly a pleasing shape to the eye, but it convinced Varien he was alive. He started to rise but a rush of pain stayed him.

"Welcome back to life, Manling" Kurdan chuckled.

Varien managed to sit upright, "What happened?" The last thing he remembered was seeing his soldiers through the rift as the world of Draenor crumbled around him.

"You and I were the last ones leaving that red mudball; the last people, anyway. Some dark cloud appeared and blitzed through our ranks. Something must have hit you hard, you've been out for hours."

"It's a shame we all don't have skulls as hard as yours." Standing finally Varien saw wherever they were had a blue sky, yellow sun and long green grass for miles. He also saw only a fraction of his troops in the small encampment, "What happened to the others? Where's Rogket?"

"The cloud scattered everybody," Kurdan ran a hair along the edge of his axe; it cut cleanly. I've sent scouts to find the rest and bring them back, but I haven't heard from the dwelf."

Right then a several clusters of Alliance troops approached from over the hills, and a dwarf signalled the Griffon it rode to descend, "The Laughing Skull?" Varien was a little afraid to ask.

"They kept running and never looked back. As for whatever the cloud was, it's vanished from sight too." Kurdan stood and approached the Griffon rider, "You know, they only sided with us so they'd have power when the war was done, if Draenor really died they might consider all bets off. We should-"

"One problem at a time, Kurdan." Varien rubbed his sore head, "Find the rest of our people, worry about the Orcs later."

Kurdan nodded. He and Varien turned to the griffon rider who made his report, "We've found pockets of our people all around. The rest of the riders are sticking with some militiamen, a griffon is wounded and they won't leave her. Neither the archmage or Alerria's rangers have reported back."

"Tell them to sit tight, we'll link up with them as one." Varien told the dwarf. The rider pointed to the nearest troops and took off.

Prince Wrynn studied Kurdan's face, and saw longing. The dwarf king still mourned his faithful mount, had refused to ride another. Varien hated to see Kurdan's heart break; he barked the order to move out. Kurdan's face changed, focusing solely on the task at hand.

Slowly they gathered their strength together. Finally heading toward the where the peasants and Griffon riders waited, the sounds of shouts and fighting spurred them to run.

The battle was already over. Peasants tended to the wounds of three griffons and spears protruded from a fallen dwarf. An assortment of Orc and troll bodies lay scattered around the perimeter.

"They showed up moments ago," A peasant clutched a stick with white cloth flapping from it, "We held up a flag of truce, reminded them we were allies, But they didn't care, they just charged."

The grass rustled, everyone turned expecting another rush relaxed to see an elf equipped as one of Alleria's rangers, "Thank Drath'Remar I found you," The elf pointed far ahead, "Alleria and the other rangers are cut off by Orcs. Archmage Rogket is unconscious and they can't hold their ground much longer."

Varien ordered several knights dismount. He took a horse, as did Kurdan, several dwarf gunners and three clerics, "Everyone else stay close and look out for each other!" They rode at utmost speed.

Up ahead Alleria and her rangers held a tight circle around the prone wizard. The Orcs had come in waves, the rangers each time shot them all down but had taken losses, and were running out of arrows. As Varien and his reinforcements saw them another surge of Orcs, this time with a massive Ogre in the lead stormed toward the elves.

Defiant to the end, the rangers loosed their remaining arrows. Some of them drew swords and rushed into mêlée; the Ogre swatted two aside with one swing of his cudgel before bearing it down on Alleria. She back-flipped out of the weapon's path and sent an arrow through each of the Orge's heads.

Just as the Ogre fell forward an Orc standing behind him vaulted over the cretin's body and downed Alleria with a slash across her chest. The Orcs enveloped the other rangers and the assassin stood over Rogket ready to end the wizard's life.

He never got the chance. Kurdan hurled forth his storm hammer; it crashed into the assassin and sent him flying, dead before he even left the ground. The Orcs panicked and turned to run but the dwarf handgunners shot them all down. Varien and the clerics leapt from their mounts.

"Look after Rogket, I'll help Alleria!" Varien rushed to her body. She was hurt but still clung onto life. Varien held her up and started to invoke a healing prayer.

The slash began to close; Varien afforded himself a smile, only to feel horror the next moment. Alleria shrieked, her eyes went white, her whole body spasmed. The wound ceased to close, her skin shrunk and withered. She was completely cold.

Her scream turned the clerics' heads; one of them hurried to the crying Varien "What happened, Prince?"

"I don't know! The wound was closing, she should have come back, she should have come back." Varien let Alleria's body fall, the cleric lifted him to his feet. Turning his head the Prince saw Rogket. The half-elf/half-dwarf wizard was groggy, and need the clerics to support him, but he lived.

By nightfall they had made shelter. Making their way close to a forest with purple-leafed trees they hacked down enough to make a stockade. Small tents and lean-tos were assembled, the largest stood in the center of the base. Varien sat sullenly, unable to get Alleria's death out of his mind. He looked to the magi, who gathered around Rogket studying the stars.
With pointed ears and bulbous nose, long thin limbs reaching from a wide, round body the dwelf looked a caricature of the older folk. The Archmage fiddled with the device he held, then hung his head in frustration and approached Vairen, "Alas Prince Wrynn, I recognize none of the stars or constellations."

"Could they look different from another part of Azeroth?"

"There would be some our ancestors would have seen and recorded. We're definitely seeing them from the angle of another world, assuming we're even in the same universe. Some of the magi insist Draenor was the corrupt counterpart of our world so theoretically speaking."

"Hang the theories! Can we find a way back home or not?"

"No, at least not until we know where we are now."

Varien buried his head in his hands. He was supposed to rebuild Azeroth, not be helpless and stranded Medivh-knew-where. Damn the Orcs! Damn Ner'zhul, and Gul'dan and the demons and anything else he might have overlooked!

"It's not as bad as all that, manling," Kurdan stepped forward, "Here the air is clean, the day is warm; there's plenty of game and lush plant life." The dwarf looked right into Varien's eyes, "There are far worse places we could have run into."

Varien finally tired of self-pity, rising to his feet he slung his sword across his back, "Let's look for a place where we can quarry stone; if we're going to be stranded here we might as well build proper shelter."

Kurdan and Rogket barked out orders, the entire army swirled into action. Varien looked out into the grasslands. The Laughing Skull Clan was out there, cowering, probably plotting revenge for their assassin. And then there was whatever had killed Alleria.

Were the Orcs ready for it?