Chapter 38 - Premonition of Ferocity

As Felrus left the tent where his brother would be resting, his heart tightened with guilt and regret.

To be sure, the rage he felt when he punched Dalrus had been very real. He had been wanting to deck his brother on the face for a long time now. But still, it really pained him to have to be so hard on his little brother. At times like these, the age difference between them was very clear. Especially when Dalrus was still an early teen at only 14 years of age. His immaturity, his rashness, his recklessness were all showing through the amazing skill he carried.

Felrus had been beside himself with worry during the defense against the demonic forces as Thrall sought to recover Grommash's soul. The whole time he kept looking over his shoulder, expecting to see his brother there, his usual cocky smile wide on his face as they faced their enemies together. Alas, Dalrus had been nowhere to be found, until they discovered him near the edge of the Horde camp, carrying the Soul Gem that Jaina had given Thrall earlier. He immediately knew what happened; his brother had done it again. Disregarding his orders, Dalrus had gone out on another incursion of his own. And this time, he nearly died.

He still remembered the physical agony he had felt when the doctors were examining his brother and revealed the bruises on his arms. They said it was a miracle that whatever had hit Dalrus didn't shatter his bones like glass. Fortunately, thanks to their emergency care and a couple healing salvos, he would make a full recovery in a few days.

The day following Grommash's retrieval and his subsequent death, Felrus had found himself in a very unexpected position; he was practically taking his brother's place as a diplomat between the humans and the orcs. With their victory against the corrupted Warsong and the demons, the orcish commander Thrall had personally walked up to Felrus, and said:

"Felrus Plaguefang, I have heard much of you. My warriors tell me that you fought with honor and bravery, facing your foes without fear, and rallying all together to face their threat. I see now that the title of Blood Knight was well deserved." Thrall had said in a formal gathering, as his orcish warriors grunted in approval and stared at him. Felrus simply stood there, speechless, and still hating that nickname he had unwittingly earned.

"And so, in recognition of your strength, I extend to you a formal invitation to walk among our ranks, warrior. I understand that you already have knowledge and experience facing the Legion and their undead minions. I believe you will be of great aid to us. You have earned our respect, and as such, we would be honored to fight at your side." The orcs behind thrall had cheered at that, waving their weapons in the air. Felrus could only kneel before the orcish Warchief.

"Sir… I am honored. I will not fail you." He had said, his head lowered. But then he felt Thrall's hand on his shoulder, and suddenly he was pulled up by the orc.

"I am no king, human. You do not kneel before me. I ask only that you stand. Stand by our side, and face our enemy without fear!" This time, Thrall himself lifted his hammer and cheered along with his men. Felrus joined them in the rally, and even the humans began clapping at that display.

Later on, Felrus had been pulled aside by Lady Jaina and Commander Wyrmbane for a briefing. "Lord Plaguefang." Jaina had said. "Thanks to you, we have begun earning the trust of the orcs. I believe this presents a singular opportunity to build good relations between our people. If we are to defeat the Burning Legion, we must all stand together."

"Indeed." Wyrmbane had said. "Personally, I am still very distrustful of our new… Allies. But it is better to have them as such rather than enemies… At least for the time being."

"Commander!" Jaina had chided him. "Excuse us. But please, understand. There are many distrustful people… On both sides of our factions. If you can provide us with a good example, I hope that more will follow. It is very important that we remain united at this critical moment. Soon, the final battle will be upon us, I fear."

"I understand." Felrus had answered. "I shall do my best, milady."

And his best, Felrus had done. Since that day - which had been yesterday - Felrus had been spending most of his time amongst the orcs, tauren and trolls, aiding them in whatever way he could, attempting to mingle and build better relations. The ones more eager to accept him among them were the orc warriors whom he had personally fought alongside during their defense against the demons. It seemed the orcs truly were quickest to earn one's trust through demonstrations of power and bravery.

And so that he began that little game of his, challenging the orcs to arm wrestling matches. At first he had done it as a joke, but one of the orcs actually took him up on it. The greenskins arms were almost as thick as Felrus' legs, and they were almost half a meter taller than he was… But Felrus had one thing they lacked.

Over the past few days… He could feel his worgen bite getting worse. His beard, his eyebrows and his growing mustache were all turning white now, and his hair was growing clearer as well. His entire right arm was almost completely covered in fur, and his body had definitely grown as well, his muscles bulging out of his clothes to the point where he was forced to request new equipment to better fit his growing size. He was almost as tall as the shortest of orcs now, and his nails had been growing as well, curving like claws over his fingers. And he could swear his teeth were still growing sharper.

At this point, Felrus had a very good idea of exactly what was happening to him. He had been in denial for a long time, but he could no longer just brush it off. 'Light help me…' He thought. 'I can only hope I am the first, and last victim of this… Curse.' He didn't know what would happen to him should his transformation… Complete.

Nonetheless, his changes so far had brought him certain advantages, like his increased physical strength that allowed him to beat the orcs. That had been part of how he earned their acceptance, along with his previous experience in fighting the undead and the Legion.

Later that day, Felrus had been summoned to impart some of his knowledge with the orcish, troll and tauren warriors. The human was still amazed at the variety of creatures gathered before him, especially the tauren. They were even taller than the orcs, literally as strong as bulls. Among them, he saw their chieftain, Cairne Bloodhoof. The old tauren was covered in bandages, and Felrus could see some of the burn scars he had received when fending off no less than four infernals by himself the other day.

They were all gathered around a large fire, and Felrus was standing nervous before them. 'Come on, think, what would Dalrus do?' Probably crack a stupid joke about troll ladies, or something. Felrus decided to skip that and go straight to the part where he tried to impersonate his brother's charisma. "So!" He said, clapping his hands together. "Your Warchief has asked me to share my knowledge of how to fight the undead! Now, ah…" He could feel himself sweat as his eyes ran along the myriad of faces staring at him. "H-how many of you have ever faced one before?"

One orc stepped forward, and Felrus saw the crowd part before him like a tide. This orc sported a bare chest, and a long braid of dark hair fell over his back, along with a large battle axe. "I have witnessed the death knights raised by Ner'zhul and Gul'dan during the second war, but nothing on the scale we are told we are about to face. But I am aware that the dead are far harder to kill than the living."

There were murmurs along the crowd. Felrus was glad someone clearly so looked up by others had decided to speak up. Clearly, this man was a veteran. Felrus could tell by his postured, his expression, and most of all, his eyes. "Thank you, sir. That is exactly right. Any warrior would hesitate if you brought your weapon down against their arms, their legs, and their chest. No matter how fierce a warrior is, he bleeds. None is immune to pain. And…" He hesitated, remembering everything he had learned from the orcs. "I am aware no true warrior fears death! But of course, only a fool wouldn't avoid a mortal blow!"

The orc before him nodded, and several of the warriors followed suit, grunting in approval.

"However!" Felrus raised his hands. "As our good friend here said, sir, ah… Pardon, what were you called?"

The orc crossed his arms. "I am Broxigar Saurfang, human."

Felrus nodded. "As sir Saurfang here has wisely stated, the undead are far harder to kill than the living, and the main reason is… A warrior fights for his life as much as he fights for his cause. But the undead, they lack the survival instinct that drives other warriors. The undead care not for their own protection, and nothing short of a mortal blow will stop them. If you chop off its arms, the creature will kick you to death. If you tear off its legs, they will crawl on the floor like maggots and use their teeth instead. The only way to finish them off is to smash their heads, or their chests. Break their bones in a way they can't raise their limbs anymore."

He saw some of the orcs scoff at that. "That's obvious!" One said. "Are you saying that we need to kill our enemies to stop them!? That's what we've been doing all along!"

Felrus felt a chill on his spine as it seemed the crowd began to turn against them. That moment, however, Broxigar suddenly pulled out his axe and took a swing at the orcish warrior. The man let out a surprised scream and fell on his back on the floor, barely avoiding the blow that would have sliced his arm clean off.

Everyone in the crowd went silent. Broxigar then grabbed the fallen orc by the straps of his armor and pulled him up. Then, he spoke. "You just avoided my attack, warrior. You just feared for your life. And because of that, you now live to fight another day. But I saw the monstrosities risen by those damned warlocks endure hits worse than the one I just gave you, and continue to attack you like they were nothing. So you would do well to heed this human's words. Maybe they'll keep you alive further than tonight." And with that, the orc was released, and Broxigar turned to face Felrus once more, a stoic expression on his face.

Felrus had come to respect many people over their deeds and actions since joining the Human expedition and reaching Kalimdor, but what he was starting to feel towards that old, veteran orc warrior was already approaching something akin to reverence. 'I hope to one day be half the warrior this man is.' He thought to himself. He then cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes, thank you, sir Saurfang. Yes, as I was saying… You think you're prepared to face an enemy who feels no pain, but trust me, the first time you see an arm fly off, only for the owner of that arm to pick their own limb off the ground and try to beat you to death with it… It's a very disconcerting visage. However, this trait is at the same time, their strength, and their weakness. You see, because the undead have no fear of pain or death, it also means they are very lacking in defense, and therefore…"

For the next hour, Felrus related his knowledge and experience in fighting the undead with the horde. He had never needed to do so before, as the majority of the members of the Human Expedition were survivors of Lordaeron, and thus, already had their own experiences regarding the scourge.

Finally, he concluded his presentation with: "And to wrap things up, allow me to give you one final bit of advice. I'm sure many of you are familiar with the carnage of the battlefield. What I doubt you're familiar with is the stench of a thousand rotting corpses gathered in one place. Trust me… It's almost more horrific than the creatures themselves." Felrus shuddered. "If you're not careful, the stench alone can make you flinch and heistate, especially around the abominations. Now… Any questions?"

Broxigar Saurfang stepped forward. "How many foes do we face?"

Felrus hesitated at that. "Honestly, it's impossible to tell. For every foe they slay, their numbers grow. It feels like an endless tide. You kill one, ten more will literally raise from the ground to take their place. The best strategy to deal with their numbers is to face them in a narrow passage where they have no choice but to narrow their groups."

This had Broxicar stroking his chin, pensively. "I see… A wise strategy. Indeed, vast numbers mean nothing if you can't surround your foes…"

"And what about these abominations you spoke of?" The tauren chieftain spoke up. "You say their flesh is too thick for a direct mortal blow."

"Well…" Felrus looked the gigantic tauren up and down. "Normally, yes. But I'd say you tauren are almost as tall as those creatures, so you may be able to cleanly hit their heads. The abominations are clearly designed to endure many blows while making use of their strength, but that also means they are slow, and their numbers are far fewer than the bulk of the army. They are also not smart, even compared to the rest of the undead."

He nodded. "I see… They rely on their bulk, but lack speed and cunning… Seems like something any seasoned warrior should be able to deal with." He nodded, and several of the other tauren followed suit. "Thank you, young one. Your knowledge shall be of great aid to us in the battle to come." Cairne then stood up, making use of his massive weapon to support himself. "Earth mother's blessings upon you, warrior." He gave a respectful nod towards the human. "And best wishes upon your brother, as well. Please, apologize on my behalf for not being able to see him." And with that, he began to return to his camp.

Broxigar stepped forward, and placed a hand upon Felrus' shoulder. "I too thank you, human. Twice before, have I waged war against your kin. That still you stand is a testament to your strength, and your will."

Felrus' eyes went wide at that. "Wait, you fought in both the previous wars?"

Broxigar smirked at him. "Indeed… I witnessed the destruction of my homeland of Draenor, I crossed the dark portal along with my brothers, and I helped lay waste to your world in the name of Gul'dan and his Shadow Council… And it brought great joy to my heart to wield my axe in the name of Orgrim Doomhamer soon after. And now…" He looked towards the distance, where Thrall's great hall was. "I fight in the name of Warchief Thrall. He has been a good successor. He has brought us great honor. Many disagreed with his decision to ally with the humans we once fought, but…" Broxigar's gaze shifted back to Felrus. "I care not what species one belongs to, any warrior can live and die with honor. And as I beheld you fighting against the Legion, human… I can say without a doubt, you are a true warrior as well. Maybe your blades stay sharp, and your foes perish." The old orc saluted Felrus, then turned around to leave. The rest of the orcs followed suit as well, many launching surprising glances at Felrus on their way out.

And finally, only the trolls were left. Felrus noticed their numbers were few. A female walked up to him, a large grin upon her uncharacteristically beautiful face. 'Huh… I bet Dal would have liked this one.' He thought as the scantily clad red-haired trolless approached.

"Dat be a fine speech ya made, mon. And I could see your strength in battle, too. Tell me, ya have a mate yet?"

It took Felrus a few seconds to realize what she had just asked him. His eyes went wide, and he took a step back as his nose and cheeks began burning as blood flushed to his face. "E-excuse me?"

"Watu!" One of the older trolls hissed as he walked up to her and grabbed the woman by the arm. "Enough of your nonsense! If ya got nothing of value to say, then be quiet!" He gave Felrus an apologetic look. "Forgive her, mon. She be young and rash, and be saying da most foolish of tings. Thanks for the tips on fighting de undead. Spirits guide ya, mon." And with that, the trolls began to disperse as well, with the young Watu complaining the whole time.

Felrus was so shocked by what just happened that he didn't notice that a human soldier had been trying to catch his attention for about two minutes. "Sir! Lord Plaguefang, sir! Lady Jaina and the orc warchief are summoning you!"

"What?" Felrus blinked twice, then turned to face the soldier. "Oh… Right… I… I'll be there right away." He said, walking away in a trance.

Never before in his life had a woman tried to court him, let alone one as brazen as that troll. He knew that as the heir to the family, it was his duty to father an heir of his own and continue their lineage… Only he always thought his marriage would end up being a political one within Gilneas itself. He had never even considered the idea of ending up with anyone so… Exotic. Especially not one of his own species.

'I bet Dal would have loved this…' He thought with an internal sigh. He then slapped his face a couple of times and shook his head to clear his mind. Now was not the time to think about such follies.

Felrus entered the great hall, and within he saw the chain of command of both the Orcish Horde and the Human Alliance, along with some faces he didn't recognize, but assumed were more commanders, generals or just people of prestige.

Jaina turned as he entered. "Ah, Lord Plaguefang, welcome. Please, join us. We have much to discuss." The warrior approached, and saw they were all gathered around a crude map of their surrounding area. Thrall was pointing at the forests directly to their north as he spoke:

"Following Mannoroth's destruction, his demonic troops fled into the woods. I believe it would be wise to establish a base deeper into Ashenvale forest in order to hunt them down. Every creature we slay now is one less we must deal with when the final battle comes."

"I agree." Jaina said. "Duke Lionheart, a paladin from the Silver hand has offered himself to lead a group of warriors into the forest and build our base. He suggested bringing a mixture of human and orc warriors. I am in favor of this idea."

"I concur." Thrall said, with a nod. They both turned to face a man whom Felrus assumed was this Duke Lionheart. The paladin wasn't much different from any other the young warrior had seen before; his armor had the colors of the Silverhand - light blue - and his face sported long gray hair with a matching beard and mustache. The paladin took a respectful bow before the leaders. "It shall be an honor, my lady Jaina, Warchief Thrall. We have much to gain and nothing to lose by working together to exterminate those vile hellspawns."

Thrall nodded at that. "Very well, I will assign a platoon of my warriors to serve under you, Duke Lionheart."

"If I may, sir." Felrus said, stepping forward. "I volunteer myself to join this group. Every one of those damned beasts we slay now is one less we need to worry about later."

"Indeed, we were planning as much." Jaina said with a nod of approval as well. "Tonight has proven that it would be best for Lord Plaguefang to be among these troops, given how well you seem to be mingling with the Horde forces. As soon as our advanced base is concluded, you are to take a squad of your own and aid in the extermination of the demons."

Felrus was already preparing to salute them when he realized what she had just said. "Pardon, milady… A squad of my own?" He said, surprised.

Wyrmbane nodded. "Aye. We have discussed this matter before, and have all agreed that, in recognition of your efforts, your bravery, and your feats in battle… You have earned a promotion. Congratulations." Wyrbane placed a hand upon Felrus' shoulder, and he could tell the paladin was smiling under his helm. "Captain Plaguefang."

Felrus felt as if his heart was swelling upon his chest. He saluted the commander, filled with pride. "Sir! I shall not let you down!" He said.

"Leading comes with great burdens and responsibilities, Blood Knight." Thrall spoke. "But you have already shown the necessary traits of one. Initiative, quick thinking, and most importantly, to lead by example. A fine leader is one who is first to charge into battle and rally others to his cause. I believe you will show us how capable you are in that aspect."

Felrus didn't know what to say for a moment. "Thank you, sir. I only uphold the ideals which were taught to me by my betters."

Duke Lionheart chuckled. "Aye, a good soldier knows when to listen, and when to take action. You'll do fine, son. Now, go get your rest. We leave as soon as the sun rises tomorrow."

His heart still fluttering from his promotion, Felrus saluted all present one last time before turning around and making his way out.

He would be a captain… Come the morrow, Felrus would be leading other soldiers into battle. He'd be responsible for their lives on the battlefield. He'd be leading the charges and giving them orders.

It pained him a bit to know his brother would not be among the men under him… But maybe it was for the best. It was too early… Dalrus needed to grow more. To mature. Felrus would never forget that day when they fought together in the caves leading to their fateful meeting with the prophet and the Horde… When finally, Fang and Plague came together as one.

But at the same time, Felrus was afraid. Afraid that Dalrus' immaturity would be his downfall. Afraid that his brother's hubris would spell his undoing. He still needed to grow, still needed more experience… Still needed just a bit more coddling, and discipline.

But Felrus knew in his heart that the day where they finally fought together like that might never come…

And for the first time in a long while, he felt the worgen bite on his shoulder itch and throb, as if reminding him of what fate awaited the warrior.