Disclaimer: Warcraft III and all of the characters in this fic are owned by blizzard.

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The Humans were getting ready for another generic battle against the Orcs, rallying their troops and oppressing their peasants. On the battlefield a Paladin, an Archmage, and a couple of Peasants and footmen were present. The Arch-mage looked down upon the Peasants in disgust;

Arch-mage: "Worthless little bugs, I should crush them like the bugs they are."

Paladin: "I know how you feel, but then we'd have to go and buy some more..."

Arch-mage: "Yes that's true... Those rotten bugs cling on to their abilities to build harvest and mine. Bah. They can't even fight for Gods sake."

Paladin: "True, true. Hey I've just gotten an Idea."

The Paladin runs into the Town hall and a loud bell rings. One of the Footmen notices the bell and smiles with a small tint a glee glistening in his eye;

Footman: "(Can't see any Orcs attacking... It must be time to mess around with the Peasants again... good times...)"

The Footman sights three Peasants gasping for air after a long trip to a gold mine, battered and bruised;

Footman: "OK! NOW LISTEN UP YOU WHINING BUNCH OF POND SCUM! GET OFF YOUR FAT LAZY ARSE AND HELP US IN BATTLE!"

Peasant 1: "But-"

Footman: "NO BUTS! NOW GET YOUR ARSE INTO GEAR AND HOP TO IT!"

Peasant 2: "We need to-"

Footman: " I said hop to it and I'll be damned if any Peasant slave scum is going to refuse one of your master's orders!"

Peasant 1: "Hey you're not my master!"

Footman: "Silence! Your master commands it!"

Peasant 3: "You have no power over us! Anyway, even if we wanted to become militia we couldn't; we've just got back with the gold you sent us over fifty miles to collect."

Footman: "Well then you'll just have to carry that gold into battle. And if you drop just one, little, tiny, microscopic fragment of gold, then there'll be hell to pay."

Peasant 1: "Why did you send us there anyway? There's a perfectly fine gold mine 20 yards away!"

Footman: "Aha! But if we did use that, then it would be the first to drain, and by the time we to the far one, it'd be manned by damned stinking Orcs! DAMN THOSE BASTARD ORCS WITH THEIR LARGE WEAPONS AND BETTER PAY PROSPECTS... uh...... Now see why your naïve little cries are worthless and so very, very wrong?"

Peasant 3: "It was already manned by Orcs! They slaughtered twenty of us!"

Footman: "Well...then that's better you see! We stole some of their gold!"

Peasant 3: "Oh wow... they lost thirty gold pieces; I bet they're crying their selves to sleep..."

Footman: "SILENCE! AND HURRY UP TO THE TOWN HALL!"

Disturbed by the almost shocking length of time the Peasants were taking to don their heavy suits of armour while carrying large sacks of gold (a sight that never failed to bring tears of joy to his eyes), the Arch-mage decided to take action;

Arch-mage: "What's going on around here then? Why are the worthless bugs taking so long?"

Peasant 2: "I don't see any bugs... oh."

Footman: " I just can't take any more! I try and reason with them but they just won't let go of their pride! They refuse to lower themselves to our standards!"

Peasant 1: "Hey!"

Arch-mage: "Silence bug! Anyway, you've just gone and made our... battle...type person... cry."

The Footman began whispering into his ear;

Footman: "It's Footman."

Arch-mage: "I don't care about your life story. Anyway, get out of my ear before I'm assumed to be homosexual by misguided fools."

Peasant: "He was all too happy to send twenty of us fifty miles to our doom!"

Archmage: "By the Gods man! Is this true!?"

Footman: "Well... yeah but..."

Arch-mage: "I don't care about your excuses! This is unforgivable!"

The Arch-mage promptly cast blizzard on the hapless footman; killing him instantly

Peasant 1: "Wow! You killed him for sacrificing our lives! You know you claim to despise us, by deep down inside you're just a big hearted friendly guy who likes to act tough."

However, the Arch-mage wasn't listening, and still seething with rage;

Arch-mage: "That no good bastard. It's not enough that he killed them while I wasn't around... oh no, He has to send them away from anyone's eyes, that spiteful little bastard!"

Peasant 1: " figures..."

The Paladin, like the Arch-mage was also noticing a distinct lacking of militia despite clearly ringing the call to arms. So his natural instincts brought him out of the Town hall to see what was wrong;

Paladin: "Good sirs why aren't you fighting for us?"

Peasant 2: "Well, there are two reasons:

A) We have carried gold from an Orc base to here from over fifty miles away, which resulted in loss of twenty good men, and we'll be damned if we went fifty miles to collect thirty gold for nothing

And:

B) There are no Orcs in the base and the Orc base is fairly primitive. The only reason we we're slaughtered by them is because we have pitchforks, they have watchtowers"

Arch-mage: "Well for that there are two answers:

A) Simply carry the gold with you and return it when the Call to arms has ended.

And

B) You'll do what I damn well tell you to do. There is an Orc base and that's a good enough reason on its own, then there's the fact that those Orcs are so damn unpredictable that it's better to be safe then sorry."

Peasant 1: "Those Orcs couldn't do anything to you though. They have two Grunts, a Wyvern and a Watchtower, scary."

Paladin: "Quiet! Get to work and stop mocking your superiors!"

Peasant 3: "On one condition."

Paladin: " what now?"

Peasant 3: "A funeral for the Peasants lost in action"

Paladin: "Please tell me you're joking, I bet you don't even know their names!"

Peasant 2: "But we do! Bob, Martin, Thomas-"

Paladin: "OK, fine but-"

Peasant 1: "Brian, Michael, Paul-"

Paladin: "Yes yes! Fine, but-"

Peasant 3 "Christopher, Roger, William, another guy called Bob, bloody good chap him, he'd give his right hand for the humans, which he actually did when it was bit of by the wyvern, wouldn't have been too bad had he survived though, as he left handed. Then there was-"

Paladin: "OK! FINE! YOU'LL GET YOU'RE GOD DAMN FUNERAL! HAPPY!? SATISFIED!?"

Peasant 1 2 & 3: "Yes. Quite."

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Five minutes later, the Paladin, Archmage and three Peasants were joined by a Priest and twenty crudely made cardboard boxes created to commemorate the Peasants killed in action. The Priest gave a speech of the twenty men who died mining gold;

Priest: " Twenty guys here... they died... Dum de dum... ... (I wonder what's for dinner tonight.)... ... ... ... ... ... Oh! They were mining at the time! Oh... and...They were killed by Orcs... Well that's about all I was paid for. There's a food cart over there, so help yourselves. Me? I'm going to check out the Sorceress's master training, if ya know what I mean. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, eh? "

The Peasants weren't expecting much, but they were also expecting something. To say they were shocked would be an understatement.

Peasant 1: "If I ever saw one crappy, half-arsed funeral; that was it."

Arch-mage: "Well you got your funeral, you didn't ask for anything flash"

Peasant 2: "I am quite convinced that didn't qualify for a funeral."

Arch-mage: "Of course it was. It had a Priest! What more do you want?"

Peasant 3: "The Priest was a sex craved maniac a spurted out about four seconds worth of drive. He didn't even give a moments silence, except for that long pause in the middle of the speech."

Paladin: "But you have to understand young ones, you're not worth the dirt under my fingernails. I hold the pebbles stuck in my boots in more regard then all of you put together. You don't deserve to live. No offence, mind."

Peasant 1: "That's it!"

Paladin: "Of course it is I'm always right. I'm a Paladin."

Peasant 1: "No! That was an angry; "that's it!" As in; "that's it; to hell with this place!" And that is exactly what the original; "That's it!" actually was! Come to me fellow Peasants! We are revolting against these tyrannical humans!

Hundreds of Peasants come from seemingly nowhere, yelling in a loud, and yob-like mass. They charged out of the base and vanished into the open horizon. The Paladin and Archmage were dumbfounded.

Arch--mage: "You know I really had no idea that we had that many Peasants."

Paladin: "I wouldn't say we were tyrannical... half arsed and corrupt maybe, but we're basically good."

Arch-mage: "To hell with them I say, tonight I'll be celebrating their loss."

Paladin: "But now we're without gold or wood. They've taken everything from us except for our footmen".

Archmage: "Well, then I'll send a Footman to Jaina Proudmoore tomorrow to get reinforcements. Though I preferably would like no peasants; I'll have to remember to tell the Footman that."

Paladin: "I hope this works; otherwise we're in big trouble..."

Archmage: "How?"

Paladin: "Why the evil Orcs of course."

Archmage: "Oh, them. They mean no harm, I just decided to started war with them, regardless of Jaina's; "lets love Orc" hippie policy. I say to hell with the Orcs. I hate them because they smell funny and have bad manners. Which reminds me, when I send the footman tomorrow, I'll also have to make him start we're under siege by Undead. The Undead are great. You can blame just about everything on them nowadays."

End of Chapter 1