The Path of Combat

Moe drearily trudged along the paths of Stormwind. He followed along behind Aligria, following the clip-clop of her hooves against the stony streets; paying no attention to his surroundings, who cared about the scenery, anyhow? He was just so tired of all this dumb walking.

After what felt like hours tramping through the streets with the hot sun breathing down his neck, he heard the clip-clop suddenly stop. This didn't register quite quickly enough to get himself to stop and he ended up walking right into the shaman.

Aligria and Derkins both peered down at Moe where he had fallen on his back. "We've arrived." Aligria said, dryly. Derkins attempted to hide a chuckle, but wasn't quick enough.

Aligria reached down to help Moe up. Moe glared at the offered hand and with a growl, pulled himself to his feet. He stomped forward a number of paces and saw the Old Town training yard before him. Across the field, there were racks stacked with an assortment of weapons - swords, axes, maces, hammers, polearms - all sorts of stuff he couldn't wait to get his hands on. All over the field there were figures made of wood and straw with targets painted on them scattered around. There were people too; big, grizzled veterans hacking away at the training dummies, younger fighters sparring against each other, there was even a group of youngsters swinging at each other with wooden swords.

A crooked smile slowly spread over Moe's face… This was gonna be fun!

Derkins looked around the yard with wide eyes and a slack jaw. She took in the sights of all the weapons and the clang and clamor of the warriors wielding them.

"Pretty impressive, eh Derkins?" Moe jabbed at her. "Figurin' on a change of schoolin'?"

She turned to him with a disgusted look. "Oh no! Absolutely not! No way I'd ever get involved in something so barbaric!"

Moe shrugged. "Just as well; you prob'ly couldn't handle it, anyway!"

She simply walked past him, making a dismissive gesture. "Whatever makes you feel better, Conan."

Moe made an angry grumble as she walked away. Before anything else could happen, Aligria stepped in front of him, saying they needed to find a trainer and get him set up. She walked on with Derkins trotting along behind her. Moe started following, but something caught his eye; a few paces away was one of the weapon shelves. It was fully loaded with all sorts of dangerous looking things that were just begging to be used.

Rationalizing that Aligria could get this next part done without him, he went over to the shelf and picked up a mace. He held the weapon in his meaty fist, feeling the weight of the spiked head.

A cruel smile spread across his face; this would definitely do some damage.

Eager to see just how damaging this bad boy could be, Moe strode over to one of the training dummies. He hefted the mace high above his head and brought it down on the target with all the strength he had. The blow sent the dummy spinning. Moe's grin widened into a face-splitting smile; This was gonna be FUN!

He continued striking at the dummy, Whacking it as hard as he could. He tried to hit it harder with every blow he made. Whap! Whap! Whap! He chuckled with perverse glee seeing the amount of damage his strikes made on the helpless target.

"In real combat, you'll find that an inefficient means of fighting."

"Huh?" Moe wheeled around to see who had spoken. behind him stood a ridiculously tall woman with blue hair and purple skin. He forgot what they were called, some kinda elf or something. The… whatever she was had a walking stick in her hand and a sack slung over her shoulder.

"You won't take down many opponents if you continue fighting like that." the purple woman said, looking at him with a look of superiority.

That look immediately got under Moe's skin. He gave the nosey broad an irate glare before turning back to the training dummy with a dismissive "Whatever."

He raised his mace again and swung hard. But when he swung this time, he was somehow knocked off balance. He teetered hazardously trying to regain his stance. A sharp pain lashed through his hand, knocking his mace to the ground.

When he regained his composure, he looked to see the giant woman standing over him with that condescending look and her stick extended in a striking position.

"An enemy would've done much worse." she stated, simply. She leaned over and picked up the dropped mace. Turning back to him, she said. "Now look. Your swings are too slow and rigid. As you've just seen, swinging like that gives your opponents ample opportunity to strike. If you want to survive a fight, your blows must be SWIFT" she struck a blow at the training dummy that sent it spinning like a top. "and FLUID!" she hit the dummy again with enough force to topple it to the ground.

Moe stood gaping at what he had just seen. In spite of himself, he let out an impressed "Whoa."

The lady turned around. She looked at him with an expression that still looked superior, though not quite as condescending. "Keep that in mind." she said as she handed the weapon back to him.

Wordlessly, Moe accepted the mace, his jaw still slack.

"Moe Stern?" Moe turned to see a red haired woman wearing green armor coming purposefully toward him.

He looked at the imposing figure with an anxious feeling flaring up in his gut. "Uuuhh,... Yeah?" he said, dumbly.

The woman came up to him, an irritated expression on her face. "There you are! Your guardian has been looking for you, you had her worried!"

Moe realized she must've meant Aligria. Admittedly, he did feel bad about making her worry, but it shouldn't have been such a big deal, right? "Aw, I was just - "

"What are you doing with that?" The woman asked, looking at the mace in his hands. He quickly dropped the mace beside him and looked up at her with a sheepish grin.

She wasn't moved.

Her expression hardened as she leaned in closer to him, her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. "New cadets are not permitted to use real weapons!" she told him in a steely voice. "Put that back where you found it!"

Moe made no delay in complying. He pulled the mace off the ground and scurried back to shelf he had taken it from.

While he was doing that, the woman turned her attention to the elf. "And what is your business here?" she asked.

The elf pulled the sack off her shoulder and held it open to the woman. "I've brought Mister Germaine's order of health potions." she said. Moe could see that the bag was filled with bottles that had red liquid in them.

"Ah, yes." said the woman, eyeing the bottles. "If you come with me, I'll take care of your payment. Mister Stern, I advise you to head over to the main garrison, post haste!"

Moe quickly sprinted toward the building she had pointed to.

When Moe reached the garrison, he was promptly treated to a harsh reprimand from Aligria. Once she had said her piece, Moe gave a hollow apology, promising not to do it again. The shaman's expression said she clearly didn't buy it; still, she didn't say anything more on the subject. That was one thing he liked about Aligria, she didn't dwell on things.

Moe went along with Aligria as she ushered him out into the yard where several other kids - a lot of them human, but plenty of examples of all the races of the Alliance - and all around his age were milling about. She and Derkins then said their goodbyes as they left to take Derkins to her magic lesson.

The large group of youngsters wandered around the yard; some chatted with each other, some boasted about the great feats of strength they had - or would - accomplish, others taunted their peers playfully (and not so playfully) while others spent their time showing off their muscles. Moe mingled with the other youngsters, making a few boasts of his own (He had been the strongest kid at his school back on Earth, after all.)

Suddenly a loud voice called out "ATTEEEN-TION!"

Immediately, all the assembled cadets organized themselves into neat little rows and faced the direction the voice had sounded from. Before the assembled cadets stood the red haired lady from before - it had been her voice that called for attention. Beside her was a broad shouldered man with a thick, strawberry-blond beard.

The huge man stepped forward, looking the cadets up and down with a sharp eye. He spread out his arms and with a coarse voice called out. "Welcome, future heroes of the Alliance! I am Ander Germaine!" He made a gesture toward the woman. "My assistant, Ilsa Corbin and I will be your instructors in the ways of the warrior."

He prowled back and forth at the head of the cadets, occasionally throwing pointed glares into their midst. He continued speaking. "Be warned, the warrior's path is not tread lightly. If any of you think you're just here to learn some fancy moves you can show off with, you can forget about it! You're here to learn how to face life or death situations! You're NOT here to have fun! there will be rigorous training, preparing you for all types conditions! THERE WILL BE BLOOD! THERE WILL BE PAIN!

"Through this course, you will be galvanized; forged into weapons of valor!"

Jeez, was this windbag just gonna keep jabbering on?! Moe had come to learn how to fight, not to hear some long winded speech. Where was the actual training? He wanted to put some serious hurt on people; to wield actual weapons, to fight the good fight - or just fight, period! If he were interested in having his ear talked off, he'd have just stayed at the inn and listened in on gossiping patrons.

As Moe was grumbling, a familiar sound reached his ears; it was unmistakable - the metallic hiss of a sword sliding out of it's sheath.

He turned back to the instructors to see Corbin had drawn her sword and was holding it aloft for all the gathered cadets to see. "The sword" she said "is perhaps the most common of all weapons. It is simple, yet elegant and versatile in it's uses. As such, it will be the starting point of our lessons."

As she was speaking, a number of attendants were walking around the cadets handing out wooden swords. Moe accepted his with a grunt. He held it up to take a look at it. It didn't have the weight to it like the mace had and obviously there was no edge to it. He felt a twinge of disappointment, but at least they were finally gonna see some action.

There was a second hiss as Ander unsheathed his own sword. "Now cadets, pay attention." he said.

Immediately, Ilsa rushed in, swinging her sword at him. In a flash, he brought his own sword up to block the blow, then made a strike at her. They went on like that, swinging, blocking and parrying each other as the clang of their swords rang through the air. Once they'd finished, they went through it again, slowly this time, explaining the technique as they went.

Once their little display was finished, Germaine called out. "Now, pair up!"

Moe looked around as all the other cadets separated, forming pairs. He walked around, looking for someone to partner with, but it seemed that just about everyone was taken. After a few more steps, someone prodded his back, saying "Looks like you and I are going to be partners."

Moe turned to face the voice. And when he did, his jaw went slack. "YOU?!" he demanded, snarling at the figure that stood before him - it was that twerp who had beaten him on the ship the other week.

The boy arrogantly narrowed his eyes at him. "Sorry, do I know you?"

Moe's grip on his wooden sword tightened. "The ship." he growled. "You were on the ship."

The boy's put on a prominent sneer. "I've been on a lot of ships." his voice oozed. "I couldn't possibly remember every person I've met on them."

Moe's face turned red. Taking a long breath, he leaned into the boy's face and snarled through his teeth. "We fought… on the ship!"

They boy, while looking repulsed at Moe's closeness, didn't flinch. But after taking a good look at Moe's face, his mouth curved into a malicious smirk. "Oh yes, the oaf with the orange. So, how've you been?"

"Greeeaaat." Moe forced his mouth into a wide, toothy smile. "Even better, now that I got a chance at some payback!"

"Somehow, I find that unlikely." said the boy with infuriating indifference. All around them, the other cadets were assuming positions - some in striking poses, others in defensive poses. Moe and his opponent mimicked the positions of the others as they continued their banter.

"Don't be so sure." Moe hissed. "You mess the bull, you get the horns!"

"I don't recall messing with any bull, just some angry jerk with a big mouth."

"Just you wait, you'll regret the day you ever met me!"

"Oh, I already do."

Moe huffed. "You say I have a big mouth, but I hear a lotta wind comin' outta you!"

"True, but at least I have the skills to back it up. You, on the other hand, are so inept it's ridiculous."

That really got Moe's blood boiling. his face turned a furious shade of red and his veins bulged out. "I'll show YOU ridiculous!" he roared. He swung his sword over his head in a striking position - only to end up striking himself in the face.

The other boy burst out in a riotous laugh "You sure DID!" he crowed as Moe gingerly put a hand to his nose.

The boy continued his taunting. "With moves like that, I'm surprised they let you in here!"

Moe wiped blood off his face. He glared a seething glare at his opponent.

"You should just give up now."

You could feel the heat radiating off of Moe's face.

"Go home - where you won't hurt yourself."

A feral growl seeped out of Moe's mouth, red tinted his vision as he glared at the boy.

"With clods like you fighting, the Horde would never take us seriously!"

Moe's hands clenched into fists.

"You're an embarrassment. Good for nothing! WORTHLESS!"

With a furious roar, Moe sprung like a pit bull; slamming into the boy and sending them both to the ground. He then began driving his fists into the pompous jerk's face as hard and fast as he could. Moe heard nothing, he felt nothing, everything around him was a blur; there was nothing but the desire to make every part of this cretan hurt as much as possible.

But then, with a whoosh and a thud, Moe found himself pinned to the ground. The skinny jerk was now on top of him and delivering blows to his face.

Then once again, there was a sudden movement and Moe first felt the boy pulled off of him, then himself pulled up to his feet. "What's going on, here?!" Ander Germaine's voice bellowed from above them.

The two boys gave each other withering glares. Then, pointing at each other, they started yelling out accusatory bellows; each trying to talk over the other and shouting at the tops of their lungs.

"QUIET!" Germaine barked, unwilling to put up with the two boys squabbling. Turning to his red haired companion, he said. "Ilsa, continue with the instruction." Turning back to the boys, he said. "You two, into the garrison! March!"

The two boys were quick to obey. They marched into the building at a quick, steady pace, scowling at each other all the while. When they reached their destination, they stood at attention as Germaine's imposing figure glowered down at them.

"Now," Germaine started. "what happened?"

"It's HIS fault!" the other boy shouted, pointing at Moe. "He attacked me for no reason!"

Germaine turned his shrewd look on Moe. "What is your name?" he asked.

"... Moe Stern." came the grumbling reply.

"What d'you have to say for yourself, Moe Stern?"

"He started it!" Moe seethed. "He kept…" whatever else he said crept out in a murmur.

"What was that?!" asked Germaine.

"He was insulting me!" Moe huffed.

Germaine then turned his attention to the other boy. "And what is your name?"

"Hector Malone, Sir!" the other boy answered.

"Is this true, Hector Malone?" Germaine asked. "Were you insulting him?"

Malone paused for a second, apparently not expecting the heat to be turned on him. "Well,... I may have… said some things…" he mumbled.

Germaine narrowed his eyes at Malone, who shrunk from his gaze. "Now understand this; I don't want to hear reports of you insulting, harassing, goading, badgering, or otherwise picking fights with the other recruits in the future! Do you understand?!"

Malone gulped before giving a feeble "Yes, Sir."

Germaine then turned his attention back to Moe. "As for you, when in combat, your enemies will do much worse than insult you! Don't ever lose control like that again! Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Moe grumbled.

"For the Light's sake, we have enough enemies as it is without fighting amongst ourselves!" Germaine looked down on the two boys with a disapproving glare. "Perhaps some physical exertion will cool your tempers a bit…. One hundred push ups ought to do the trick."

"WHAT?!" both boys exclaimed.

"One hundred?!" Moe cried.

"But Sir, that's not fair!" Malone protested. Pointing at Moe, he added "He probably can't even count that high!"

"What?!" Moe snarled, indignantly. "I can, too!... Watch this!" he then dropped to the floor and started doing push ups at a rapid pace. "One! Two! Three! Four!"

Malone gaped at first, but not wanting to be outdone, he too dropped and did his push ups as well.

For a long while, the sounds of grunts and groans could be heard prominently through the garrison as the two boys went through their discipline while Germaine watched their progress with a stoney face and a hawk like glare.

After what felt like hours, Moe finally came to the end of his punishment. "Ninety, ug, eight. (pant, pant)... Ninety, EEEERRRG, nine. (huff, wheeze)... hoo… uh… Oooone, one… hundred!" with that, he collapsed on the floor, panting heavily. His arms felt like they were on fire - but not just any fire, some sort of mutant, super hot monster fire that ate other fires for lunch. He felt he could drink an entire well - if he could move, that is.

Somewhere off to the side, he heard Malone still counting. "Ninety two… (huff) Ninety… three…"

Despite his exhaustion, Moe felt a smile creep onto his face - he had finally beaten the little rat.

Once Malone had finished, the two boys made a valiant effort to stand. It took some effort, but they were eventually able to pull themselves to their feet.

Germaine fixed them with his steely gaze once again. "Now, if this happens again I suppose we'll have to try something a little… harder… won't we?"

"... Yes, Sir." the boys made a weary reply.

"But I'm sure that won't happen."

"Huh?" Moe looked to see Aligria was leaning against the wall, watching them almost as keenly as Germaine had. How long had they been doing push ups, if Aligria had already come for him? he wondered.

She strode over to them with a forcefully neutral expression. "I'm sure Moe has learned his lesson,... haven't you?"

Moe found he could only nod dumbly.

"Very well, then." she said. Turning to Germaine, she added. "If you are all finished here, I believe it's time we went home."

Germaine gave a curt nod and Aligria beckoned Moe along. They traveled to the other end of the city to pick Derkins up from her magic lesson. And when Derkins saw Moe, she made a small gasp and asked what happened to his face.

Moe hadn't really thought about it, but he figured his face must look pretty messed up after what had happened that day.

To his surprise, Aligria chided Derkins for her question and urged them both back to home.

All the way back to Goldshire, Moe's mood was storming. His thoughts kept sweeping back to Malone and what the little creep had done to him. WHen they finally reached home, Moe went out back and set up a makeshift dummy. Then, wielding a straight stick, he struck at the dummy with a the gusto he could muster. Imagining that the wooden post was Malone, envisioning the mocking smirk in the wood grains, he hacked and swung at it as hard as he could - fueling his anger into every blow he struck. "How d'ya like them apples, Jerk-wad?!" he howled as his stick thumped against the post. "Here, have another! And another! Who's the embarrassment, Now? Huh? Lookit ya, can't even fight back! Take that! And that! Now for the killing blow!" He raised his stick above his head, and with a blood lusting roar,

"Moe!"

Moe stopped short on hearing his name. Turning around, he saw Derkins looking at him. "WHAT? What, what, whadda ya want?!" he demanded, his stick still held in the striking position behind his back.

"Dinner's ready." she simply said before turning and heading back into the building.

"... Oh." Moe shrugged, dropping his stick and following after her. Before heading into the building, he gave one last scornful look at the dummy. One day, Malone. he thought One day...

A/N: So this effectively marks the end of act one. And now that that's done, it seems like a good spot to put this on hiatus while I turn my attention completely to Elemental Flux.

On another note, I made some pictures showing our displaced travelers in their new roles in Azeroth. You can view them at your leisure via the addresses below.

Calvin (and Hobbes): art/Calvin-and-Hobbes-in-Azeroth-272714395

Susie: art/Calvin-and-Hobbes-in-Azeroth-Susie-292631672

Moe: art/Calvin-adn-Hobbes-in-Azeroth-Moe-328637286