Author's Note:
Thank you for your reviews! It's always encouraging to see that people are reading your work. Queen of Harpies, thank you for your multiple reviews and I assure you that the Lich King's fear will be explained in time. Ghoul King, I am fully aware that Ysera is a dragon. However when in the Emerald Dream, she appears as a human with her eyes closed (as explained in The Day of the Dragon novel) ;). To all the reviewers on the Zelda page, thank you for your encouragement! I hope you'll all be patient with me if I write a crappy chapter or two. I'm usually really pressed for time when I write .
As always, the more reviews the more updates. Please feel free to suggest themes. Who knows? I just might use them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Link followed the orc patrol through the crowded streets of Ogrimmar. Vendors and shops crowded both sides of the narrow lane they were walking down, their owners, orcs, tauren, trolls, goblins, and even some humans, sold everything from double-headed axes to invulnerability potions. Link, used to the simple Hyrulian selection of blue, red, or green potion was shocked by the variety of goods. The noise was loud but not quite deafening, as the haggling customers and salesmen never seemed to raise their voice so high as to cause any great disturbance. This also ran contrary to his experience in the market at Hyrule castle; as disorderly, chaotic a place as any he knew. There was also something else different here. Underneath the simple appearance of the market, Link felt a strong emotion, common to all the peoples in the market, was at work.
*It's pride.* He thought.
He was right. From the mysterious tattooed trolls who meditated on mats with weird masks and dolls, to the haughty and eccentric goblin merchants, the people here all had their own sense of racial and personal pride. After they had progressed a little further, Link forgot all about the vendors and concentrated on covering his mouth with the cloth of his tunic; a gigantic specimen of the same type that he had seen hauling goods to Ogrimmar was marching right in front of them, raising a thick dust cloud that stung Link's eyes.
"The Kodos these days are almost more trouble than they're worth." An orc Link identified as Zrak'Tol growled. Zrak'Tol was the other orc who had been injured in the battle the day before, but orcs are a hardy race and he was back on his feet again, more or less as good as new.
"We're almost there." The ranking orc, Kraz'gol called. He was walking ahead of them, and his eyes were relatively clear.
The Kodo walked off down a different alley, leaving Link and the orcs to continue down the main street. As the dust cleared, Link spotted what could only have been the quarters of the orc warchief. But it conveyed a sense of power in architecture that Link was not familiar with; it was neither large nor lavishly decorated like Hyrule Castle, nor was it horrible and impressive like Ganon's Castle. True, it was larger than most of the other homes in Ogrimmar, but it was the distance from the other abodes that gave it its quiet majesty. In a city as crowded as Ogrimmar, the greatest luxury was not gold, admantium, fine foods or wine. It was space. The narrow area around the warchief's home was worth more empty than had it been filled with silver, and it showed more respect than the two heavily armored orc sentries at the entrance ever could.
"You have business with the warchief?" One of the sentries demanded.
"We are the fifth shift of the southern patrol; the warchief has ordered that all news of the undead were to be brought to him directly." Kraz'gol answered.
"Yes, there have been many like you coming in these days. It can foretell nothing good I fear. But who is this you bring with you? Is he to see the warchief as well?" The sentry growled, looking Link up and down, suspicion clear in his eyes.
"Yes. He saved my life, and I vouch for him with my honor!" Naros now pushed his way to the front and stared at the sentry with fire in his eyes. Link was surprised; Naros had never shown such devotion to Link, nor had Link ever expected it for a simple fairy. After all, Link recalled a time when he was going through two or three fairies a week.
"It is true. This stranger fought with us bravely and with honor in the barrens. If it weren't for him, some of us would have most certainly been slain." Kraz'gol said quietly.
Still the sentry stared back at Naros, as if sure that Link was an assassin sent to gain the trust of the patrol, and then kill the warchief. But seeing the determination and sincerity in Naros' eyes grudgingly nodded his head.
"Very well then. But keep your eyes on him."
As if still unsatisfied, Naros continued to glare at the sentry as they proceeded into the warchief's den. Inside, Link looked around with interest. The den had only a single circular, but luxuriously large room. Its wooden walls were polished so that they richly reflected the bright light of the fire built in the middle of the den, and the only adornments that Link could see were a blood-red orcish banner, a large white wolf hide, a strange totem resembling those carried by the bull people, the tauren, as well as a weird, beaded net that looked to be of troll design. There was a single, humble cot in the back of the room, as well as a table set in front of the fire. A particularly impressive set of orcish armor was set against the wall, and a great warhammer was resting on the table.
But more interesting and far more impressive than any of these ornaments was the warchief himself. He stood in front of the fire, staring into it, silhouetted by its light. Even unable to see him clearly, Link knew felt this individual had a sense of majesty and power that most people lacked. Slowly the warchief turned around and looked the party over. To Link's surprise, the warchief did not seemed surprised to see him, who was so out of place here, as he was constantly reminded. Instead the warchief turned to the leader of the patrol.
"Kraz'gol my friend. What news do you bear?" He asked in a soft, yet firm, deep tone. Even when speaking softly, his voice seemed to reverberate through Link's mind. On the battlefield, it was clear that his presence alone would hearten his followers and dismay his enemies.
Quickly Kraz'gol told him of the patrol's multiple encounters with the undead. He explained unfalteringly everything that the patrol had seen until he came to the part where the patrol met Link. Kraz'gol told him that they saw from a distance the warrior in green slay three of the undead, only to see many more undead, by far the largest group they had encountered yet, attack. Kraz'gol told the warchief of how they came to the warrior's aid, and how valiantly he had fought. He then explained how Naros was wounded, to the death they believed, but how the stranger had used strange magic to heal him when none of them though it was possible. He finished by describing their uneventful return trip.
While Kraz'gol spoke, the warchief bent his head down, deep in thought. Occasionally he glanced up at Link with searching eyes, something that made Link feel somewhat uncomfortable, as if he were being physically probed. When Kraz'gol completed his report, the warchief stayed in his pensive state. Then he shook himself and looked up to stare at Link.
"Welcome to Durotar warrior! We are always welcome to receive your kind these days, regardless of your race. I am known here as Thrall. I don't believe you've told me or Kraz'gol here your name?"
"I go by the name of Link."
"Well then Link, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. There are guest houses not far from here, and you may rest there for a while. Feel free to wander the city at will, and I hope you'll aid us in battle when war comes."
The orc patrol stirred uncomfortably. None of them needed to mention that the warchief had made war a question of when rather than if. Link, who had only heard of full scale wars from the Deku Tree tried hard to imagine what it would be like, but in that he failed.
"Yes my friends. War is coming. The appearance of the scourge in such numbers on these shores is deeply distressing, and the small groups of ghouls you encountered could only be scouts for the main army. The Lich King is preparing for war, and we can only guess at when he will strike."
"What should we do warchief?"
"It has obviously become too dangerous to send out small patrols. We must withdraw behind the border and prepare for the worst. Hopefully the Lich King hasn't paid too close attention to our activities, and will be unaware of our new advantages. You and your troops are dismissed Kraz'gol."
Kraz'gol bowed and walked out the door. The other orcs followed suit, and Link was about to leave as well when Thrall spoke to him.
"Link, stay behind for a moment. I would like to talk to you."
Link paused, then turned to face the orcish warchief again.
"There are many things about you that puzzle me Link. You are clearly of elven descent, yet your eyes, face, and clothing argue against your being high or night elven. Your skills in battle are undeniable, and from what Kraz'gol tells me, they should be legendary. Yet I've never heard of you. Your gear, from your sword to your belt are foreign to anything I've encountered before, and most puzzling of all is that in spite of all this, you speak orcish perfectly. I judge your intentions to be true and honest, so I will not demand answers to these questions yet. I merely ask you to think on them."
Link nodded slowly and turned to leave. As he slipped through the doorway, Thrall gave him one last piece of advice.
"There is something you should know for your own safety Link. All the search parties that the patrols encountered never consisted of more than five ghouls. That a group many times larger should come upon you by chance is impossible to believe. The Lich King has taken interest in you Link, and that can mean nothing good."
Link did not stop but kept on walking, left to brood on this. The Lich King was obviously someone of great power who commanded the undead he had encountered in the barrens, that much he could decipher. He had much to learn of this world; he would have to ask someone about the Lich King later. Still not quite comprehending his danger, he strode through the crowded streets as the sun began to set.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scourge eyed his prey calculatingly with four eyes. When his two heads got bored with nothing to fight, they usually fought each other. They never fought physically of course, they were smarter than that. But the heads constantly struggled against each other's minds. This had given Scourge's master the impression that he was stupid, an impression far from the truth. But Scourge really didn't care; the only thing he really cared for was carnage. In battle, Scourge's heads forgot their enmity and worked together flawlessly to tear their foe into pieces, altogether with an astounding amount of intelligence for an abomination.
It had been a long time since he had fought something; after his master had gotten bored testing his abilities he was only thrown a live prisoner once in a while. He did enjoy the sound of their screams, but even those got boring after a while. This time though, the prey was new. It was curious looking to be sure, with its purple skin, wings, and horns that seemed almost comical to the abomination. Yet Scourge knew that this was no mere plaything; this was a dangerous enemy indeed. Scourge's right head noted that this time there was more room to fight, as they were inside a roomy pit instead of a cramped cage. His left head registered that his foe was engulfed in flames and wielded two blades; nothing that worried it in particular. Scourge immediately decided to try an overt approach, dashing at the prey, swinging the bladed hooks attached to his body with chains while raising his gigantic butcher's knives that he clutched in his three hands.
As soon as the festering menace charged towards him, Illidan reacted swiftly. He had felt the powers of the Lich King throbbing in his dry veins, and had ached to find an outlet for them. Now he had. Illidan focused the frozen energy directly at Scourge, and all at once the two- headed abomination was encased in an icy prison not unlike the one that had kept him prisoner during his transformation. Illidan did not grin however, he knew that the creature would not be so easily defeated.
He was right. The ice quivered for a second, then shattered into a thousand pieces as Scourge roared, flailing his hooks towards Illidan. Illidan blocked the blow from a hook that managed to reach him, but recoiled from the heavy impact. Scourge took advantage of his distraction by swinging one of his knives at him. Illidan's quick reflexes that resulted from a lifetime of training as a demon hunter allowed him to barely dodge the blow, but even so he realized that he would have to finish the abomination quickly. Calling upon his demonic powers, he fired a bolt of energy at Scourge. The bolt struck not at Scourge's mass of flesh, but his mind. For a moment, Scourge roared in rage as his two heads doubled his confusion. It was a split second, but it was all Illidan needed. Lunging at the abomination, Illidan twirled his blades in a dance of death very familiar to him. Scourge screeched as his three arms were severed, and Illidan then shot a cone of the Lich King's power at him. The energy quickly solidified into a spear of ice, and Scourge was thrust back to the wall with it protruding from his massive belly. Illidan calmly walked over to the confused and mutilated abomination, and raised his blade for the kill.
"Enough." The Lich King called to his champion from above.
Illidan paused, then lowered his blade to look up at his master. "What?"
"You've seen for yourself how powerful Scourge is in battle. He may still be useful. My forces are awaiting you in Kalimdor. I want you to command them."
"To what purpose?"
"To purge the orcs from this world once and for all. Organize my forces to exterminate them; I want not a single one left alive. And while you are at it, there is an enemy of mine; a warrior clothed in green who has taken refuge among the orcs. If you see him, kill him. And bring Scourge along with you; some of my necromancers will undoubtedly be able to restore him with ease."
Illidan smirked. "A rather simple task, don't you think. It will be as you command."
The Lich King's eyes flared with cold glee. "It had better."
Without further conversation, Illidan called upon powers that he had mastered in life, opening a dimensional gateway. The Lich King laughed with pleasure as Illidan grabbed the monstrous Scourge with one hand and hurled him into the gateway. Illidan himself followed through leisurely, as if taking a quiet stroll through the woods of Ashenvale.
Thank you for your reviews! It's always encouraging to see that people are reading your work. Queen of Harpies, thank you for your multiple reviews and I assure you that the Lich King's fear will be explained in time. Ghoul King, I am fully aware that Ysera is a dragon. However when in the Emerald Dream, she appears as a human with her eyes closed (as explained in The Day of the Dragon novel) ;). To all the reviewers on the Zelda page, thank you for your encouragement! I hope you'll all be patient with me if I write a crappy chapter or two. I'm usually really pressed for time when I write .
As always, the more reviews the more updates. Please feel free to suggest themes. Who knows? I just might use them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Link followed the orc patrol through the crowded streets of Ogrimmar. Vendors and shops crowded both sides of the narrow lane they were walking down, their owners, orcs, tauren, trolls, goblins, and even some humans, sold everything from double-headed axes to invulnerability potions. Link, used to the simple Hyrulian selection of blue, red, or green potion was shocked by the variety of goods. The noise was loud but not quite deafening, as the haggling customers and salesmen never seemed to raise their voice so high as to cause any great disturbance. This also ran contrary to his experience in the market at Hyrule castle; as disorderly, chaotic a place as any he knew. There was also something else different here. Underneath the simple appearance of the market, Link felt a strong emotion, common to all the peoples in the market, was at work.
*It's pride.* He thought.
He was right. From the mysterious tattooed trolls who meditated on mats with weird masks and dolls, to the haughty and eccentric goblin merchants, the people here all had their own sense of racial and personal pride. After they had progressed a little further, Link forgot all about the vendors and concentrated on covering his mouth with the cloth of his tunic; a gigantic specimen of the same type that he had seen hauling goods to Ogrimmar was marching right in front of them, raising a thick dust cloud that stung Link's eyes.
"The Kodos these days are almost more trouble than they're worth." An orc Link identified as Zrak'Tol growled. Zrak'Tol was the other orc who had been injured in the battle the day before, but orcs are a hardy race and he was back on his feet again, more or less as good as new.
"We're almost there." The ranking orc, Kraz'gol called. He was walking ahead of them, and his eyes were relatively clear.
The Kodo walked off down a different alley, leaving Link and the orcs to continue down the main street. As the dust cleared, Link spotted what could only have been the quarters of the orc warchief. But it conveyed a sense of power in architecture that Link was not familiar with; it was neither large nor lavishly decorated like Hyrule Castle, nor was it horrible and impressive like Ganon's Castle. True, it was larger than most of the other homes in Ogrimmar, but it was the distance from the other abodes that gave it its quiet majesty. In a city as crowded as Ogrimmar, the greatest luxury was not gold, admantium, fine foods or wine. It was space. The narrow area around the warchief's home was worth more empty than had it been filled with silver, and it showed more respect than the two heavily armored orc sentries at the entrance ever could.
"You have business with the warchief?" One of the sentries demanded.
"We are the fifth shift of the southern patrol; the warchief has ordered that all news of the undead were to be brought to him directly." Kraz'gol answered.
"Yes, there have been many like you coming in these days. It can foretell nothing good I fear. But who is this you bring with you? Is he to see the warchief as well?" The sentry growled, looking Link up and down, suspicion clear in his eyes.
"Yes. He saved my life, and I vouch for him with my honor!" Naros now pushed his way to the front and stared at the sentry with fire in his eyes. Link was surprised; Naros had never shown such devotion to Link, nor had Link ever expected it for a simple fairy. After all, Link recalled a time when he was going through two or three fairies a week.
"It is true. This stranger fought with us bravely and with honor in the barrens. If it weren't for him, some of us would have most certainly been slain." Kraz'gol said quietly.
Still the sentry stared back at Naros, as if sure that Link was an assassin sent to gain the trust of the patrol, and then kill the warchief. But seeing the determination and sincerity in Naros' eyes grudgingly nodded his head.
"Very well then. But keep your eyes on him."
As if still unsatisfied, Naros continued to glare at the sentry as they proceeded into the warchief's den. Inside, Link looked around with interest. The den had only a single circular, but luxuriously large room. Its wooden walls were polished so that they richly reflected the bright light of the fire built in the middle of the den, and the only adornments that Link could see were a blood-red orcish banner, a large white wolf hide, a strange totem resembling those carried by the bull people, the tauren, as well as a weird, beaded net that looked to be of troll design. There was a single, humble cot in the back of the room, as well as a table set in front of the fire. A particularly impressive set of orcish armor was set against the wall, and a great warhammer was resting on the table.
But more interesting and far more impressive than any of these ornaments was the warchief himself. He stood in front of the fire, staring into it, silhouetted by its light. Even unable to see him clearly, Link knew felt this individual had a sense of majesty and power that most people lacked. Slowly the warchief turned around and looked the party over. To Link's surprise, the warchief did not seemed surprised to see him, who was so out of place here, as he was constantly reminded. Instead the warchief turned to the leader of the patrol.
"Kraz'gol my friend. What news do you bear?" He asked in a soft, yet firm, deep tone. Even when speaking softly, his voice seemed to reverberate through Link's mind. On the battlefield, it was clear that his presence alone would hearten his followers and dismay his enemies.
Quickly Kraz'gol told him of the patrol's multiple encounters with the undead. He explained unfalteringly everything that the patrol had seen until he came to the part where the patrol met Link. Kraz'gol told him that they saw from a distance the warrior in green slay three of the undead, only to see many more undead, by far the largest group they had encountered yet, attack. Kraz'gol told the warchief of how they came to the warrior's aid, and how valiantly he had fought. He then explained how Naros was wounded, to the death they believed, but how the stranger had used strange magic to heal him when none of them though it was possible. He finished by describing their uneventful return trip.
While Kraz'gol spoke, the warchief bent his head down, deep in thought. Occasionally he glanced up at Link with searching eyes, something that made Link feel somewhat uncomfortable, as if he were being physically probed. When Kraz'gol completed his report, the warchief stayed in his pensive state. Then he shook himself and looked up to stare at Link.
"Welcome to Durotar warrior! We are always welcome to receive your kind these days, regardless of your race. I am known here as Thrall. I don't believe you've told me or Kraz'gol here your name?"
"I go by the name of Link."
"Well then Link, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. There are guest houses not far from here, and you may rest there for a while. Feel free to wander the city at will, and I hope you'll aid us in battle when war comes."
The orc patrol stirred uncomfortably. None of them needed to mention that the warchief had made war a question of when rather than if. Link, who had only heard of full scale wars from the Deku Tree tried hard to imagine what it would be like, but in that he failed.
"Yes my friends. War is coming. The appearance of the scourge in such numbers on these shores is deeply distressing, and the small groups of ghouls you encountered could only be scouts for the main army. The Lich King is preparing for war, and we can only guess at when he will strike."
"What should we do warchief?"
"It has obviously become too dangerous to send out small patrols. We must withdraw behind the border and prepare for the worst. Hopefully the Lich King hasn't paid too close attention to our activities, and will be unaware of our new advantages. You and your troops are dismissed Kraz'gol."
Kraz'gol bowed and walked out the door. The other orcs followed suit, and Link was about to leave as well when Thrall spoke to him.
"Link, stay behind for a moment. I would like to talk to you."
Link paused, then turned to face the orcish warchief again.
"There are many things about you that puzzle me Link. You are clearly of elven descent, yet your eyes, face, and clothing argue against your being high or night elven. Your skills in battle are undeniable, and from what Kraz'gol tells me, they should be legendary. Yet I've never heard of you. Your gear, from your sword to your belt are foreign to anything I've encountered before, and most puzzling of all is that in spite of all this, you speak orcish perfectly. I judge your intentions to be true and honest, so I will not demand answers to these questions yet. I merely ask you to think on them."
Link nodded slowly and turned to leave. As he slipped through the doorway, Thrall gave him one last piece of advice.
"There is something you should know for your own safety Link. All the search parties that the patrols encountered never consisted of more than five ghouls. That a group many times larger should come upon you by chance is impossible to believe. The Lich King has taken interest in you Link, and that can mean nothing good."
Link did not stop but kept on walking, left to brood on this. The Lich King was obviously someone of great power who commanded the undead he had encountered in the barrens, that much he could decipher. He had much to learn of this world; he would have to ask someone about the Lich King later. Still not quite comprehending his danger, he strode through the crowded streets as the sun began to set.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scourge eyed his prey calculatingly with four eyes. When his two heads got bored with nothing to fight, they usually fought each other. They never fought physically of course, they were smarter than that. But the heads constantly struggled against each other's minds. This had given Scourge's master the impression that he was stupid, an impression far from the truth. But Scourge really didn't care; the only thing he really cared for was carnage. In battle, Scourge's heads forgot their enmity and worked together flawlessly to tear their foe into pieces, altogether with an astounding amount of intelligence for an abomination.
It had been a long time since he had fought something; after his master had gotten bored testing his abilities he was only thrown a live prisoner once in a while. He did enjoy the sound of their screams, but even those got boring after a while. This time though, the prey was new. It was curious looking to be sure, with its purple skin, wings, and horns that seemed almost comical to the abomination. Yet Scourge knew that this was no mere plaything; this was a dangerous enemy indeed. Scourge's right head noted that this time there was more room to fight, as they were inside a roomy pit instead of a cramped cage. His left head registered that his foe was engulfed in flames and wielded two blades; nothing that worried it in particular. Scourge immediately decided to try an overt approach, dashing at the prey, swinging the bladed hooks attached to his body with chains while raising his gigantic butcher's knives that he clutched in his three hands.
As soon as the festering menace charged towards him, Illidan reacted swiftly. He had felt the powers of the Lich King throbbing in his dry veins, and had ached to find an outlet for them. Now he had. Illidan focused the frozen energy directly at Scourge, and all at once the two- headed abomination was encased in an icy prison not unlike the one that had kept him prisoner during his transformation. Illidan did not grin however, he knew that the creature would not be so easily defeated.
He was right. The ice quivered for a second, then shattered into a thousand pieces as Scourge roared, flailing his hooks towards Illidan. Illidan blocked the blow from a hook that managed to reach him, but recoiled from the heavy impact. Scourge took advantage of his distraction by swinging one of his knives at him. Illidan's quick reflexes that resulted from a lifetime of training as a demon hunter allowed him to barely dodge the blow, but even so he realized that he would have to finish the abomination quickly. Calling upon his demonic powers, he fired a bolt of energy at Scourge. The bolt struck not at Scourge's mass of flesh, but his mind. For a moment, Scourge roared in rage as his two heads doubled his confusion. It was a split second, but it was all Illidan needed. Lunging at the abomination, Illidan twirled his blades in a dance of death very familiar to him. Scourge screeched as his three arms were severed, and Illidan then shot a cone of the Lich King's power at him. The energy quickly solidified into a spear of ice, and Scourge was thrust back to the wall with it protruding from his massive belly. Illidan calmly walked over to the confused and mutilated abomination, and raised his blade for the kill.
"Enough." The Lich King called to his champion from above.
Illidan paused, then lowered his blade to look up at his master. "What?"
"You've seen for yourself how powerful Scourge is in battle. He may still be useful. My forces are awaiting you in Kalimdor. I want you to command them."
"To what purpose?"
"To purge the orcs from this world once and for all. Organize my forces to exterminate them; I want not a single one left alive. And while you are at it, there is an enemy of mine; a warrior clothed in green who has taken refuge among the orcs. If you see him, kill him. And bring Scourge along with you; some of my necromancers will undoubtedly be able to restore him with ease."
Illidan smirked. "A rather simple task, don't you think. It will be as you command."
The Lich King's eyes flared with cold glee. "It had better."
Without further conversation, Illidan called upon powers that he had mastered in life, opening a dimensional gateway. The Lich King laughed with pleasure as Illidan grabbed the monstrous Scourge with one hand and hurled him into the gateway. Illidan himself followed through leisurely, as if taking a quiet stroll through the woods of Ashenvale.