A Grand Adventure,
oh hi, so this would serve as my first fan fic ever, a little practice run, for future idea's, decided to do a short cross over of Warcraft, and Full Metal Alchemist, just for fun, enjoy
Somewhere, in the Twilight Highland's...
The Twilight Highland's, home to the Wild Hammer Dwarf's, to where they took refuge after there exile from Ironforge many moons ago. It was home to the Dragon Maw, the Infamous Orc's who had been one of the most feared during the Second War. But, it was Home to another faction, one more sinister in nature, the dreaded Twilight Hammer cult, servant's of Deathwing, and Ragnarok, who sought to engulf the whole of the world in a veil of darkness.
High in the cloud's, the Night Elf druid, Garn 'Itzatrap' Wildclaw scouted the land in his flight form, surveying the ruins, and corruption left by the Black Dragon flight and the Twilight Hammer operative's. Garn soared downward slowly onto a large hill, once his talon's touched down upon earth, he shifted into his humanoid form.
Garn stood quiet tall, clad in fine leather armor, attuned to druid's who specialized in the difficult discipline of feral combat. Garn did what at this point came naturally to him, he shifted into his cat form, which was black in fur, Garn sat, taking a break from flight, his armor was a set awarded to those who braved the battle field's, as apposed to exploring, and fighting through mysterious dungeon's, and lair's of hostile faction's and powerful villain's. His job was to help the Alliance control the many front's of war, Gilneas, Arathi, Warsong Gulch, Twin Peak's, he'd been to every one imaginable. It was a difficult job, being a specialized professional soldier, the pay was absolute rubbish, (he had to depend on his leather working skills for money), but other rewards were plentiful, armor, weapon's, trinket's, all magically enhanced, to provide attributes to the wearer, it was worth it, dealing with Bureaucratic bullshit from General's, and Fields Marshal's.
He was out here on a partol and scouting mission, looking for important development's centering around the Twilight Hammer, his guild was usually called upon for mission's by the many faction's in the Alliance, and the Horde mostly due to there experience in the many different front's of Azeroth, Outland's, and even Northrend, and return alive to continue fighting, some where even still in service after the Second and Third War. Well the above AND the fact that they where one of the only pocket's of Alliance and Horde that actually get along and collaborate together, it was a good setup. It was fortunate that they weren't exiled from there home's, but they had declared themselves neutral, like the Argent Dawn ,Earthen Ring, and the Cenarian Circle, as a nice big 'fuck you' to King Varian, and Grommash Hellscream, they both practically had Smoke coming out of there ear's, fun time's, at least theyre both over the whole 'some of your longest serving hero's and professional soldier's are leaving' thing.
Garn then spotted a patrol of Twilight hammer's, spellcaster's, only two, Human 'Easy work, this should only take a second' Garn thought as he went into 'stealth', as Druid's and Rogues called it, really it was just a matter of blending really fucking well into the shadow's, or drawing magical energy from around them to cloak himself which never made sense, due to the fact Garn had 'stealthed' right in front of enemies in the past, and never get seen. He crept close, the two cultist's suspected nothing, closer... closer, finally he readied himself for what druid's in his line of discipline call 'Feral Charge', where he could leap unorthodox distances, right on top of a target, dazing them, and letting them preform techniques with maximum efficiency. He preformed the technique, leaping through the air, right on top of one the spellcaster's, pinning them faced down on the ground, not even a second later Garn began to Ravage the cultist, (or what his druid trainer referred to as, 'dismember as much damn flesh, bone, muscle, intestines , and tear the Son of a bitch into as many tiny pieces as you can before he says and realizes "HOLY CRAP MY INSIDES ARE GETTING RIPPED TO BIT'S"), the cultist let out a horrific scream, "AGGGH, HOLY FUCK , WHAT IN THE NETHER IS THIS THING- GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!", he said as Garn Mangled, and Raked his body, then a second later, he Ripped a huge hole in the cultist, and left him to bleed out, he got up to stare at his next victim, the second spellcaster who was now staring wide eyed, open mouthed, now realizing the person who was talking to about punching babies and the magical properties of towel's, not 6 seconds ago was now a bloody mess on the ground. "N-nice kitty..." he said backing up as Garn walked towards him, in instinct, the cultist , began charging a fireball. Garn, as quick as lightning preformed a Skull bash, a charge technique taught to feral's to counter spellcaster's, the Cultist winced as the huge cat smashed into him, he instantly lost focus in his casting. Using this moment, Garth mangled the cultist left leg, forcing him onto the ground, raking his flesh, then delivering a 'Ferocious Bite'(A technique that harnesses all the energy and bloodlust built up inside the druid, and let's it out in one attack, often fatal) to the jugular, the spellcaster ceased to move. Garn pulled himself off the dead and blood covered cultist, he was covered in blood, but by now he was very used to it, he just shook some of it off his fur and carried on, "well that was disappointingly easy, but gotta take what I can get", Garn jumped up on a nicely perched boulder, recalling his time scouting the region, his kill count of about 50 Twilight Hammer operatives, not bad, but he'd had better, he eradicated a small camp of them, spotted new encampment's, halted and ceased the development of 3 small outpost's in the eastern part of the region, and killed 3 notable officer's, raided there food supply for a bit, traumatized at least four new recruit's, and insulted there mother's ,all in all, pushing the cult back week's, maybe even a little over a month, a typical day for a neutral field operative. "Good day, guess I should head back to Stormwind and report all this wonderful carnage to Si:7 and Stormwind Command", Garn shifted back into a Night Elf, and pulled out his hearthstone, "back home to Old Town we go", he activated the strangely runed stone as he had done so many time's before, preparing to warp