The Last Story – Chapter 1.
"Ogrimar is under attack!"
Kurn, captain of the city watch, gasped and practically choked on his grog. Dropping his mug and coughing for air, he turned to look at the breathless youth who had just burst into the inn.
"What? Who are they? How many?"
"I don't know sir!" The orc boy was barely more than ten summers. He pointed back the way he came, towards the south gate. "I was by the wall when I heard them shouting to close the gate. I knew you'd be here so I…"
Kurn didn't bother listening to the rest. Grabbing his axe, he nearly bowled the boy over as he ran out of the inn. He faintly heard Morag the bartender screaming after him to pay his tab.
"Old fool probably isn't expecting me to make it back." Kurn thought.
It was a short run from the inn to the south gate. Ogrimar was built in a naturally defensible canyon, and the southern entrance was the only area where an enemy could hope to successfully attack the city. The orcs had known this, and had erected a wall, one hundred hands high and thirty paces thick. Catapults and archers lined the top. During the construction there had been some trouble with the local centaurs and quillboar tribes. However, once the wall was finished, no one had been foolish enough to attack the city. Until now.
Reaching the gate, Kurn saw that it was closed and bared. Sprinting to the eastern corner of the wall, the captain scaled the steep steps and made it to the top in less than a minute. Once there, he found archers with their weapons drawn, but they stood around casually making jokes.
"Who's attacking? Where are they? What are our losses?" Kurn asked. The group of archers chuckled and one of them pointed down onto the plains beyond the wall.
A lone horse and rider stood on the road to the south. Dressed in glimmering plate mail, the figure sat stoically upon his saddle. He was perhaps fifty paces away, well within bowshot. Across his lap rested the shaft of two-handed hammer. That, and his shining armor, marked him as a paladin, one of the champions of the alliance.
"One?" Kurn swore. "A single human rides up to the gates of Ogrimar and someone sounds the alarm? Who ordered the gates closed?"
"I did!" Kheylez, his second in command, appeared. "I'm glad you're here. I was hoping you wouldn't miss the show." He turned to the grunts along the wall. "Archers at the ready!"
"What the heck are you doing Kheylez? It's just one human."
"Who cares? He's alliance, which means he's the enemy! Or haven't you heard about the fighting going on in the Warsong Gulch?"
Kurn grimaced. "Warchief Thrall says we're to steer clear of the Night Elf lands. Then Hellscream's brood runs up there and literally starts cutting out a little empire for themselves. How did they think the elves would react? Serves the Warsong right if you ask me."
"My brother died fighting the humans who tried to invade Durotar five years ago. They're animals, and they all deserve to die." The younger officer turned to the archers. "Take aim boys!" A dozen bowmen raised their weapons.
"Belay that!" Kurn roared. He moved up to Kheylez and shoved him hard. "Listen to me whelp. Thrall dealt with Admiral Proudmoore's forces, and he'll deal with you in the same manner if you're not careful. This is about more than revenge, this is about…"
"Ahoy the wall!" the cry arose from the plain below. It was the paladin, speaking the language of the orcs.
"How does he know our language?" Kurn's eyes narrowed.
"A spy!" Kheylez turned again to the archers. "Prepare to fire!"
"I warned you!" Kurn grabbed Khaylez's arm.
"Are all orcs cowards?" The paladin cried up to them. "I should have gone to the trolls. At least they do not hide behind their walls in fear."
Kheylez let out a guttural cry. Shoving Kurn to the ground, he screamed at the archers. "Fire! Kill him! Now!"
Too late, Kurn heard the twang of bowstrings. Rising to his feet, he watched as two dozen arrows descended towards the knight. For his part, the human simply raised his hand and cast a spell. A shell of light appeared around him, and the arrows fell harmlessly to the earth at the human's feet.
"I see that you are cowards then. The human raised his hammer. "Come, face me if you dare!"
Kheylez screamed in rage. Running past Kurn, he sprinted to the end of the wall. Jumping onto the battlement, he dropped down the outer face, where the wooden and stone fortification met the natural cliff. Scrabbling back and forth between the two surfaces he deadened his fall and somehow managed to reach the ground without killing himself. Pulling his two hand axes from his belt, he screamed a challenge.
The paladin dismounted casually.
"What's all this ruckus?" A new voice sounded next to Kurn. The captain glanced quickly to see an elderly orc flanked by two bodyguards in heavy plate armor. Kurn recognized him as one of the Warchief's advisors. The captain turned back to the fight below.
"Nothing to worry about, sir. Just a fool with a death wish."
"The human or the orc?" The older orc smirked.
The paladin stood his ground as Kheylez charged across the distance. Screaming with bloodlust, the orc swung both axes down in an overhead attack. The paladin stepped aside at the last second, then swiveled around and stuck the shaft of his hammer between the orc's ankles. The brute fell forward and landed in a heap just before the paladin's horse. The mount stepped back a couple paces and shook its' head as if it smelled something.
"Not many humans would stand unflinching before the fury of an orc's charge." Thrall's advisor stated. "How skilled is our champion?"
"Kheylez is my second." Kurn answered. "His skills in the dueling ring are quite good, and he has proven himself against the centaurs. However, I believe this is the first time he has ever fought a human."
Kheylez regained his feet and attacked again. This time the knight stood his ground. As the orc closed in, the human reversed his grip on the hammer and struck the orc's right arm with the weapon's shaft. One of the axes fell from a nerveless hand. The human then parried a flurry of strikes from the warrior's off hand weapon.
The old orc next to Kurn made a 'harrumph' noise. "This is over. The human has taken the measure of your boy's ability. He's just toying with him now."
Kurn could see that the advisor was right. The paladin danced outside of Kheylez's attacks for a minute, then swept in quickly and jabbed the orc in the face with his hammer. Kheylez fell to his knees, stunned. He was helpless.
"We have to save him!" Kurn yelled. "Archers! Prepare…"
"Wait!" Thrall's advisor laid a hand on Kurn's arm. "Look."
The paladin balled his mailed fist and landed a shot to the back of the warrior's head. The orc pitched forward onto his face, unconscious but alive. The armored figure then walked around and collected the fallen orc's weapons. Turning back to the wall, he tossed the blades into the dust next to their owner.
"Who's next?"
"Open the gate." The advisor stated. "I'll handle this." He began descending the stairs.
"Wait, old one." Kurn stumbled over his own feet attempting to follow the old orc. "How did you know the human wouldn't kill him?"
"My name is Eitrigg, captain. And I've had dealings with these paladins in the past. They have a perverse sense of honor. They'll put an entire village to the torch, but not kill an unarmed opponent." The elderly orc descended the stairs with a swiftness that belied his age. Reaching the bottom, he and his guards moved swiftly to the open gate. A crowd of curious onlookers had gathered and Kurn had to push his way through them in order to catch up.
The crowd had spilled forward out of the gates. Orcs were a proud race, and there were few among them who would let a challenge go unanswered. By the time Kurn got to the front of the mob, two more unconscious orcs lay in the road. The third, a short female, was using a quarterstaff to batter the knight at range.
"Back up, the lot of you!" Eitrigg shouted at the spectators. His two bodyguards drew their own weapons and faced the human. The onlookers backed away. Eitrigg signaled for his men not to attack. Instead he waited for the outcome of the current battle.
The quarterstaff did little damage against the knight's plate armor, but it succeeded in keeping him at a distance. Kurn could see that the human was starting to tire. Finally his footsteps faltered, and he stumbled backwards. The orcish woman let out a gleeful cry and closed in. Too late she realized that the knight had tricked her. He exploded upwards from the ground and grabbed the staff. Pulling hard, he drew the woman closer and rammed his hammer into her stomach. She seemed to fold in half around his blow, as the air was driven from her. With a grunt, he lifted her wholly off the ground and tossed her onto Kheylez's unconscious form. She moaned but did not get up.
The paladin turned to face Eitrigg and his two defenders.
"You had best stand back elder." The human panted for breath beneath his helm. "I would hate for you to get hurt while I tussled with your grandchildren."
"I am not so old that I cannot fight my own battles." Eitrigg answered. "But you should rest a moment. You seem winded."
"I am a warrior of the Light. It will take more than a handful of savages to tire me."
"Savages?" Eitrigg crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "This from a order of knights that would string one of their own up by the neck for the crime of not killing an orc."
The paladin took a step back. His eyes narrowed beneath his helm. "You're speaking of Fordring?"
Kurn saw Eitrigg smile ever so slightly. "Did you know him?"
"I did." The paladin reached up and removed his helm. Bone white hair spilled out around a face that seemed worn as old leather. Kurn had never seen a human whose' face was that weathered. But the man's blue eyes were bright and clear, and he obviously still had the strength to hold his own on the battlefield.
"It was you then." The human asked. "You were the orc that corrupted Tiron?"
Eitrigg chuckled. "The human sense of denial amazes me to this day. Corrupted him you say? I saved his life and he swore to do me no harm from that day forward. Your precious knighthood cast him out for that. But Fording was a man who understood honor. Even stripped of your precious holy magic, he chose to risk death to save me from the gallows."
"Indeed." The human stood silently for a moment. Finally he lowered his hammer and spoke. "My name is Mallius Crownguard. My fellow knights call me Mallet."
"I care little for what the soldiers of the alliance call each other. Why have you come here? We have been fortunate that no one has died yet today. Our nations have a great deal of bad blood between them."
The knight seemed about to say something, but then looked past the old orc to the rather sizable crowd behind him. Instead he whistled sharply and his horse trod forward. The knight reached up and removed a large object from behind the saddle.
"I am here to return something that does not belong to me." He unwrapped the blue cloth from around the object, revealing a monstrous sword. Kurn's eyes opened wide in astonishment, and several people in the crowd gasped. It was less a weapon than a enormous wedge of metal. The blade was nearly five feet long, and it must have weighed three and a half stones, or sixty human pounds.
"That is the weapon of an orcish blademaster!" Eitrigg raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "How is it that you have it?"
"I will tell you, if you do something for me." The paladin unfurled the blue blanket that was wrapped around the sword. Just then, an swift breeze caught it, and pulled hard. The cloth opened to reveal a white wolf's head on a blue background.
Kurn grunted. "The banner of the Frostwolf clan?"
"That is what I've been told." The paladin remarked. "I sought them in the mountains above Altrec. Three of their warriors and I had a… conversation of sorts. They told me that their chieftain was in Ogrimarr, so I came here. Now I ask you, where is the leader of the Forstwolf clan?
Captain Kurn laughed. "Ha! True orcs have a hard enough time seeing Thrall. I doubt he has time for a human."
"I did not come here to see your Warchief. I seek only the leader of the Frostwolves."
"The Warchief is also the chieftain of the Frostwolf clan." Eitrigg said. "Thrall took up the black armor after Ogrim died. And unfortunately for you, he is away from the city at the moment."
The human secured the wind swept banner to the sword and stood back and crossed his arms. "Then I will wait for him. This is a matter of honor. It is Grom Groknel." Kurn got the impression that he intended not to move from that spot until he got what he wanted.
'Grom Groknel?' Kurn blinked in confusion. The words sounded orcish, but he had never heard them before. He looked at Eitrigg. The old orc's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"You know a great deal about our ways, paladin."
"I have fought on the soil of Draenor. And I worked in the internment camps my people ordered to house yours after the war." There was a murmur within the crowd at this.
A moan drew Kurn's attention. Kheylez groaned and began to rise from the ground. He shook his head and began looking for his weapons.
"You cannot stay here." Kurn said.
"I am not leaving until my work is done."
Eitrigg looked from the giant sword, to the banner, to the human.
"It was you who slew the blademaster?" Eitrigg asked.
The knight paused, eyeing the crowd, and then throwing a glance at Kheylez before responding.
"Yes."
A murmur spread thru the crowd of orcs. Kurn could feel the crowd's anger beginning to rise. Eitrigg was looking at the sword however, his eyes overcome with a distant expression. The old orc scratched his beard and turned to look at the crowd. Many of the orcs were young. Most had been born inside internment camps run by humans, or in the wilds of the Eastern Kingdoms, before Thrall led them to found their new nation. Their hatred of the alliance ran deep. Almost none of them could remember their life on Draenor, before the first war between men and orcs. The old ways meant little to them, but this paladin was a real enemy. Alive, and ready to be the scapegoat for their miseries. Kheylez growled at Mallet, and Eitrigg knew that he had to move soon to avoid violence.
Eitrigg turned back to the paladin and raised his voice for all to hear. "We orcs have always been a race of great warriors, fighting with honor, and living every day as though it would be our last. We have a tradition, dating back even before the Horde, that when a warrior is lost on the field, his clansmen would bring his weapons back to his kin and tell the story of his final battle. This is called Grom Groknel: 'The Last Story.' However if the warrior died alone, the tale of his fall would be lost forever. But sometimes, vary rarely, if the battle was so honorable and the warrior so valiant, the foe who vanquished him would be compelled to tell the tale. In this case, it was a matter of honor that the enemy be allowed within the walls of the clan's stronghold. To speak before the chieftain, to present the arms, and to tell the story of the fallen."
The crowd was silent. Even Kheylez seemed speechless. Eitrigg addressed Mallet directly.
"Mallius Crownguard, of the alliance. You say you are here to return the blademaster's sword?"
"I am"
The breeze gusted suddenly. The wolf's head banner snapped angrily. Dust from the barren lands whipped around them. Eitrigg had to raise his voice further to be heard.
"Do you swear to harm no orc while within the walls of Ogrimar?"
"By my honor, I swear."
"Lies!" Kheylez roared.
"Be silent!" Eitrigg threw the young orc a hard look. "This is matter of honor."
"The humans have no honor!" Kheylez spat at Mallet, but the wind swept his excrement away.
"I swear." Mallet turned to Kheylez. "By the soul of the warrior I felled. I'll harm no one while within your city."
"Your words are venom." Kheylez pointed his axe at Mallet. "I'll cut your tongue out to stop your human lies."
The wind flared and ripped the banner from the sword. The blue flag zipped left and right like a thing alive. It swooped down on Kheylez and engulfed him, bearing him to ground.
"You are in the presence of your ancestors!" Eitrigg shouted angrily. "Insult them at your peril!" Turning to the paladin the old orc walked forward and stood close enough so that the crowd could not hear.
"You should leave. Tell me the story. I can take the sword to Thrall."
"I am not afraid." Mallet said.
"Then you are a fool. Your oath binds not only you, but those you swear by. You killed the orc that sword belonged to. Thrall would be within his rights to order you beheaded."
The knight looked at the sword and thought long and hard.
"No. This is what must be done."
"So be it." Eitrigg gestured to his bodyguards, who took up positions on either side of Mallet.
"For your protection." The old orc said.
"Of course." Mallet whistled again and his horse approached him. He placed his hammer in a sling behind the saddle, the whispered in the creature's ears. The horse shook its' head defiantly, but Mallet whispered again. When he finished the horse backed away and turned and galloped south, towards the mountains. Mallet then reached out and pulled the sword from the ground. Then he and his escort turned and walked north into the city.