Disclaimer: Still don't own WOW. Wish I did though.
Chapter 2: Meetings
The inner workings of Orgrimmar were just as spectacular as it's impressive outward appearance, and just as intimidating. Crafted from stone, sand, and basalt, the huge city spread out within a massive canyon, the majority of it in the open air, allowing a visitor to gaze out over the valleys and watch the Orcish race as they went about their lives, the day to day mundane tasks no different than any other races. To one not of Orgrimmar's population, or one with badly biased viewpoints, it was a surprise to see what had once been called one of the most ruthless and bloodthirsty races of Azeroth living lives which seemed so…simple.
Within the Valley of Strength, where the Orcish vendors plied their respective trades, many aspects of the day to day lives became better known to the eyes of their unknown visitor. Two male orcs argued with each other apparently over the high price of leather and fur, while a tradesman roared out the items he had available for purchase.
"If the two hagglers need more leather," thought the stranger, "I believe they find some excess from that fellow's lungs."
The small entourage had started at the gates, with Torgan and Kazuk escorting their visitor through the byways of Orgrimmar. Since entering the city, glances had been cast in his direction, and more than a few cries and shouts, of both anger and fear, had found their way to his ears. His two guards had not spoken a word since their exchange at the gate, and the stranger had not deemed it wise to spark up a conversation. The older orc had been silent since his talk of demons, and the younger even now looked more than willing to carve him into tiny pieces and happily cast him to the carrion eaters. However, though the white figure kept a brisk pace to match the massive strides of his escorts, he could not help but gaze around in wonder at the crude yet fascinating beauty of Orcish architecture.
They had built there city from wood and skin, but incorporated the stone of the canyon into the construction. Utilizing the stone cliffs, many of the buildings were supported along the far wall by massive trusses, held upright by the rocky outcroppings. For those buildings wholly within the valley, circular huts maximized the living space, surrounded with leather, bones, tile, and odd-looking Orcish totems whose meaning could only be speculated. In the center of it all, an enormous tower rose into the sky. Though he could not see what lay at the top, he thought he heard the flapping of wings, and a screeching sound which emanated from the high summit of the tower.
As he moved further into the city, the stranger noticed the sun being blocked out. Looking up, he saw that the stone overhang of the canyon created a natural sunshade. The sudden drop in temperature could be felt almost immediately, and he found himself strangely at ease with this area of the city. All around, the shadow of the sun peeking over the rock created a reddish-purple glow within this curving canyon. Even here, Orcs conducted business, moving in and out of structures seemingly built into the canyon walls.
"Keep up human!" growled Torgan, who did not even bother to look down at his charge. "If we leave you behind, you will not even make it out of the Drag." For effect, he quickened his already fast pace. Though the stranger gave no indication of annoyance or discomfort, he picked up his feet and hastened to match the orc's speed.
They came at last to another valley, where the canyon walls opened into a large space. However, this valley was instantly discernable from the one he had entered when he first came inside. At the far western edge of the area, a gigantic stronghold dwarfed every other structure in the valley. A long stone archway led to the apparent entrance to the structure, which was a yawning portal twice again the size of any orc. It was this path that the two orcs led him across, and though no visible change could be seen, the stranger felt within himself a growing sense of apprehension. A shadow moved across his path, cast from some massive, unknown object. Glancing up, he could not believe such a thing had escaped his notice.
It was a tree, but it's shape was unmistakable. Like some twisted work of art, the tree had a large, squat trunk, and only two limbs which reached out and ended in twisted branches to resemble claws. At the top, two branches curved out ward from the crown, stretching out like a pair of horns. A hideous face had been carved into the tree top, and laid across this massive monstrosity were enormous metal plates, stained black, matching the color of the tree. The stranger knew this what this beastly thing represented. His amber eyes flashed golden, and he halted in his tracks before the demon plates.
"All that remains of Mannoroth the Destructor, the Pit-lord of rage and hate."
Torgan and Kazuk stopped as well, glancing back at the stranger. Torgan said nothing, only continued to stare at the man with an expression of curiosity and disbelief. Kazuk came forward and simply stared at the white figure, his eyes not altogether hiding his discomfort. More and more questions were left unanswered, and they began to wonder now how a human could know so much about the demons, let alone the one responsible for the Orc's nightmarish spiral into bloodthirsty madness.
"Come, human," stated Kazuk, "The Warchief is ahead."
That being said, the stranger glanced up once more at the demonic visage of Mannoroth, then turned and followed the two orcs into the portal.
Within the Great Hall of Grommash Hold, high seat of the Orcish Horde, a lone orc sat upon a wooden throne. Though young of years, he seemed to carry a great weight upon him, making his already battle-scarred visage seem even more careworn. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, this orc radiated charisma and determination, and from him there came an aura of great strength. The power of this orc's life force was a tangible thing, almost as if he projected his living spirit to do battle at his side.
This was Thrall, Warchief of the Horde.
A hero of the Orcish people, Thrall had seen much in his twenty-eight years. Born as a slave and gladiator, raised with human wisdom and training, his quick mind and cunning personality had served him well throughout his life. It was Thrall who broke the Alliance hold on the Orcish Horde, freeing them from both their imprisonment and awakening them to the ancient shamanistic lineage long ago buried by demonic corruption. At his side hung the powerful weapon named after its most famous owner, the mighty Orgrim Doomhammer. It was the aged warrior who inspired Thrall to release his people from the Alliance prison camps, and work to reclaim the honor his people had lost. When Doomhammer fell, Thrall felt a great sense of loss over his passing. However, with the support of his freed people, Thrall had taken up Doomhammer's weapon, and donned the black armor, unanimously becoming the new Warchief.
Since, then, through all of the trials his race had overcome, Thrall still worked tirelessly to secure his people's place in this new world. In his heart, Thrall knew that one day, his people could live in peace, free from worrying about invasion from other lands, and more importantly, any lingering taint the Burning Legion had left upon his race. Even now, though it was four years later, the memory of Grom Hellscream weighed heavily upon his heart. Though he remembered the powerful chieftain with pride at what his sacrifice had done for the Orcs, there was still a deep hurt at the loss of his friend. It was with this thought in mind that he labored to drive the last remnants of demonic corruption from his land, and hunt them until he scoured their presence forever from the world.
When the door to the great hall swung open, Thrall immediately straightened, leaping to his feet as his mind registered the sight before his eyes. A human, swathed in white, was walking quite nonchalantly into the chamber. He was flanked on either side by a large orc, both of whom Thrall recognized. Torgan was looking as somber and cross as ever, a permanent scowl etched upon his face. Though not many years younger than Thrall himself, Torgan was an experienced, if somewhat rash orc, who had proven himself many times before in skirmishes against the Quillboars and Centaurs. In several ways, Torgan reminded him of Hellscream, though that warrior was still to this day, in Thrall's opinion, without equal.
Kazuk on the other hand, was older, a veteran of many battles, indicated by the crisscrossing maze of scars etched upon his haggard face. Kazuk had been among the orcs who came to Azeroth following the Second War, and had fought under the banner of the Bleeding Hollow clan. He had been a younger orc then, several years older than Thrall was now. Though nearing his sixtieth winter, Kazuk was a powerful, seasoned warrior, possessing superior battlefield tactics and the loyalty of many of the younger orc generations. He was tenacious, calculating, and very patient in dealing with both allies and enemies.
As they brought the human to stand before him, Thrall could only guess at his purpose. He did not appear to be in shackles, so he could not be a prisoner. If he was an assassin, Thrall doubted he would even be standing here, after coming through both Torgan and Kazuk. His white clothes and the flag atop his staff said his message rather clearly. Thrall could not sense any evil from the man, but there was power there, one that his shamanistic farsight could not identify. As he came to stand before Thrall, the man in white lifted his head to gaze directly into the Warchief's eyes. The amber orbs met Thrall's and held them unwaveringly. Thrall returned the look, his own eyes never shifting from the strangers. They remained this way for several seconds, as Torgan and Kazuk looked on with curiosity and mixed interest. This silent test of wills continued until finally, it was the stranger who broke the silence.
"Greetings to you, Warchief of the Horde," stated the stranger, his deep voice carrying the same tone of polite authority he had given his two escorts. "I have come bearing news most urgent."
"Before you begin," Thrall interjected, "I have questions of my own." His eyes never left the strange human who seemed so oddly polite in the presence of Orcs. Though his tone and mannerisms spoke otherwise, Thrall had seen something within his eyes. Something powerful, something…indescribable. There was strength there, and it was strong indeed.
"First of all," continued Thrall, "I would like to know why a human has entered our lands."
"Your guards said as much at the gates. I informed them that all would become clear after we had spoken."
"Humans have taken much from us."
"And the same can be said of the orcs," the stranger said quietly. Instantly, Torgan became enraged. Once again, brandishing his axe, he whirled on the stranger, his eyes blazing with wrath.
"Silence, you scum! Show respect in front of the Warchief!"
"Torgan!" shouted Thrall, "He came here in peace, and I will not have an enraged orc murdering anyone inside the Great Hall!"
Torgan, cowed by the Warchief's words, continuing to glare at the stranger, lowered his axe, and stood in stormy silence, anger radiating from his massive form. Satisfied that there would be no further trouble from the young warrior, Thrall turned his attention back to the human.
"I would know who I speak to before we continue." Thrall was slightly annoyed at the man's pithy comment as well. "There is precious little trust among us right now. We don't need to turn this into a situation be both would dislike. Who are you stranger, and why have you come?"
The man in white hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to reveal his identity. At last, he sighed, and lifted his shrouded head once more. As he did, one gloved hand reached up and pulled away the white scarf at his face, the cloth coming away like a mummy's wrappings, uncovering the man's countenance. His hair, held in place by the cowl, fell down his back, where it came to rest just past his shoulders. It was the color of moondust, straight and thick, and glistened in the torchlight. He had an oval-shaped face, almost feminine, dominated by his unusual amber-colored eyes. His mouth was set in an unsmiling line, though he wore a tired expression, almost like one of surrender. As his mask fell away, he started to speak.
"My named is Sethrezin, and I am a wanderer from the East."
"He spoke of demons, Warchief," offered Kazuk, drawing a swift glance from Thrall. "He said that there was a plan involving the Horde."
"Demons?" exclaimed Thrall, his voice mimicking the same surprise Torgan had at the gate. However, unlike the younger orc's, Thrall's surprise was not laced with disbelief, but instead with pure rage.
"Those in the Ragefire Chasm are bad enough, not to mention the Burning Blade within Durotar." While a problem, these enemies were being managed, with a visible end in sight. Thrall intended to cleanse his race of all demonic influence, and any mention of its taint was quickly traced to its roots swiftly dealt with.
"I understand these problems, great Warchief," stated Sethrezin, seemingly nonplussed at being interrupted.
"Then why do you come to us? Do you have information which may lead to destroying them?
"He spoke of Kil'jaeden, Warchief." offered Kazuk. "It was the mention of that name which made us bring him to you."
At the sound of Kil'jaeden's name, Thrall's eyes sharpened and narrowed, regarding Sethrezin with closer scrutiny. Kil'jaeden the Deceiver was one of the leaders of the Burning Legion, second only to Archimonde, who was defeated at Mt. Hyjal. Both he and Archimonde the Defiler had been lieutenants to the Titan-turned Demon-Lord Sargeras, Ruler of the Burning Legion. Nearly, all of the high-ranking demons of the burning legion had fallen, leaving only Kil'jaeden and the remaining Nethrezim dreadlords. It had been Kil'jaeden who had originally sown the seed of demonic corruption in the race of Orcs. Though he had never been seen upon Azeroth, he was a demon-lord, said to be cunning and savage, as well as calculating and manipulative.
"Four years ago," Sethrezin continued, " The Burning Legion was shattered with the death of Archimonde at Mt. Hyjal. Shortly afterward, I felt a powerful force from the North. I traveled to Northrend where I saw a great pillar of blue light split the sky. The power emanating from the light was beyond comprehension."
"You believe that Kil'jaeden has returned to conquer Azeroth again?"
"I felt a powerful force in the north, but it was not demonic in essence."
"Then why do you speak of Kil'jaeden?"
"Kil'jaeden was responsible for creating the Lich King, the will behind the undead Scourge"
At this, Thrall was visible shocked. Torgan looked up with interest in his eyes, and Kazuk stood in silence, though his features had become even more haggard and grim. He had fought against the undead, and found them to be a vicious, relentless adversary. Their ranks swelled by every death, and it was difficult to kill what was already dead. They had nearly overwhelmed him at Mt. Hyjal, and he was in no hurry to combat them again.
"How do you know all this," asked Thrall, once again casting a wary glance at the stranger. His knowledge was almost uncanny, first his knowledge of Durotar and the Horde, then of Kil'jaeden and his past influence on the Orcs. He was becoming increasingly untrusting of this strange interloper who had shown himself to be a man of many mysteries.
"I have studied much in my lifetime," Sethrezin answered nonchalantly, "which is longer than you may think."
It wasn't an answer Thrall was satisfied with, but eager to hear more, he let Sethrezin continue.
"The Lich King has become too powerful for Kil'jaeden to control, and now he seeks to destroy his creation before it overwhelms him. The force I sensed in the north is proof. Somehow, the Lich King has increased in power, and now, he has enough strength to threaten the Demon-Lord."
"So you fear that this Lich King will destroy the demon?" Torgan asked, his tone almost incredulous. "If that's the case, he would be doing us a favor. Why should the Horde interfere?"
Sethrezin regarded the young orc with a baleful stare from his golden eyes.
"I believe you would find the Lich King to be more of a threat and menace than the Demon-lord, young warrior. The Lich King would consume his power, and you can imagine what force that would create upon the world can't you?"
Thrall listened intently to the stranger's words. It was true that the battle between the Lich King and the remnants of the Burning Legion was not of great concern to the Horde, but he had sworn to destroy any and all demonic taint. By destroying the last of the Demon-lords, he would be furthering his goal of redeeming his race wouldn't he? He also knew that if left unchecked, the power of the undead Scourge would consume the world. He knew that it would not discriminate between the members of the Human Alliance and the members of the Horde.
"What is your place in all this?" the Warchief asked Sethrezin. "Why is it that you come to us with this news?"
"I have discovered evidence that Kil'jaeden intends to use the Orcs to fight the Lich King."
"What?" roared Torgan. "the Horde would never side with demons again! This Demon-Lord would never convince the Orcs to fight for him.! We would sooner aid this Lich King!"
"Torgan, calm down!" cried Thrall, shaking his head in frustration over the fighter's repeated outbursts. Turning back to Sethrezin, he continued. Glancing back at the white figure, a shrewd look came into his eyes.
"You are not some emissary are you?" he asked, regarding Sethrezin with renewed distrust.
"You have no need to fear me Warchief, I do not come bearing word from Kil'jaeden nor the Lich King."
"Then who sent you, Sethrezin?"
"No one sent me, Warchief. I am here on my own accord. And please, call me Seth."
"You went through all the trouble to get here simply out of the goodness of your soul? Somehow I doubt that very much."
Seth smiled and answered calmly.
"I know why you do not trust me, but I assure you, I mean you no harm."
"How can I be sure of that?"
"Because, Kil'jaeden knows he will not convince the Orcs to join him willingly. They will never aid him, as long as you still live, Warchief Thrall."
"So you are here to do…what?"
"Enlist your aid."
"What?"
"Kil'jaeden has powerful allies to help him fight against the Lich King, but he has loose control over them. If his assassins kill you, Warchief, any number of his agents could then enslave the Horde, or perhaps make them think it was the Lich King's doing. Kil'jaeden believes he can punish both the Lich King and the Orcs together by making them kill each other off. Then, he can conquer Azeroth without impediment."
"You still have not answered my question," interrupted Thrall, his voice rising to a shout. "What do you want with the Horde?"
"To destroy both the Lich King and Kil'Jaeden!" Seth answered vehemently, shouting back at the Warchief, causing Torgan to go on the defensive again and Kazuk to grip his spear a bit tighter. Thrall and Seth continued to shout.
"Are you mad? The Horde could barely survive against the Legion at full strength, let alone the Scourge. Would you have me send the rest of my race to their doom?"
"Please understand," Seth pleaded, his composure and polite demeanor beginning to break down. "The Lich King will be weakened by Kil'jaeden's attack. Both will be vulnerable for a time. It will be a long fight, but if it works, the demons will be gone forever, and the Lich King's taint will be scoured as well. We can free the world from both tyrants at once!"
"Why come to the Horde?" asked Thrall, now instead of being curious, was completely baffled. Was this human really insane? "Why not go to the Alliance in Theramore. The humans would accept you there."
A bitter, almost amused look came into Seth's eyes.
"You know as well as I do that the Alliance is all but shattered. Even if they were not splitting apart, there are not enough members of the Alliance left to stand against the Lich King and Kil'jaeden."
"Then what do you suggest?" Thrall asked, his mind tickling with an idea which made his green face even greener. Part of him knew what was said before it left Seth's lips.
"Ally with the Alliance once again, against a common foe."
For several seconds, no one spoke. Even Torgan seemed frozen in stone, unbelieving of what he had just heard.
"Even if I was to consider this plan," Thrall stated slowly, judging each word, "the humans would never accept us as allies. Furthermore, too many members of the Horde hold too many grudges with the humans and the elves."
"What if there was someone to convince them? Someone who was an outsider, with ties to both sides who had nothing to gain.?"
"You plan to be a mediator between my people and yours?"
"I do not see any other option. I have my own reasons for seeking the fall of Kil'jaeden and the Lich King."
Thrall continued to gaze at the white-caped figure. He was internally weighing what was right over what was possible. Destroying Kil'jaeden meant destroying the Legion. Destroying the Lich King meant a safer world for his people. But helping the Alliance was something he had tried once before, with disastrous consequences. Many orcs had not yet forgotten, him being one of them. Still, as Seth has stated, he could see no other option either. The Horde was strong, but could not hope to defeat the power of both Kil'jaeden and the Lich King alone.
As he mulled over the events in his head, Seth simply stood awaiting the answer. He had regained his composure, his golden eyes calmly awaiting the Warchief's decision. After several long minutes, Thrall looked back at Seth, and gave his answer.
"The Horde will aid you for now, Sethrezin. However, you will not gain our favor so easily. The moment I sense that you have betrayed us, I swear, you will not live long enough to regret your foolishness."
"I understand, Warchief, and I thank you." Seth bowed his head ever so slightly, then came forward, his arm outstretched.
Thrall, looked at it hesitantly for several seconds, then glanced up into Seth's amber eyes. There was genuine gratitude there, and a feeling of great relief in their golden depths. He looked back at the arm, and extending his own, gripped Seth's forearm, as Seth did the same to him. The faintest traces of a smile found it's way to Thralls face. Seth spoke first.
"Then we have a bargain."
Thrall wondered if that was true.
Whew! Finished! With the Chapter I mean, not the story. Speaking of which, I didn't really think the plot could get this complex when I started writing. Who really is the bad guy? Who is the main antagonist? Why am I asking you guys? And who is the mysterious Seth, who seems to know so, so much?
On a side note, on Seth's name. No it was not a self-insert. I just like the name when it came to my head. Not to be confused the Nethrezim, which are the dreadlords. Anyway, I hope you are enjoying the story, and I hope this chapter didn't get to boring for you. For all you action fans out there, don't get discouraged. I'll have some good fight sequences coming soon. Be patient and it will get good and gory. Well, not too gory. Have to keep it clean. Thanks for the reviews BTW! They inspire me to continue. I hope you'll keep reading, and thanks again for your support.J