Chapter 12: Lines In The Sand
Arthas: With this accursed blade…I SHALL RULE AZEROTH!
Jaina: Come warriors! Time to hero up!
DAH DAH DUH DAH DAH!
WHEN WINTER IS AT HAND
SCOURGE ALL ACROSS THE LAND
WHO'S GONNA HERO UP?
ON THE VERY EDGE OF FATE
WILL THEY ACTUALLY PULL THEIR WEIGHT?
WHO'S GONNA HERO UP?
WHO'LL SAVE THE DAY?
Wrynn: THE ALLIANCE!
Thrall: NO! THE HORDE!
WHO'LL ACTUALLY DO…SOME WORK?
SUPER (WOW) HERO SQUAD! (Hero up!)
SUPER (WOW) HERO SQUAD! (Hero up!)
GARROSH AND THRALL ARE FIERCE!
THE LICH KING ENDS UP IN TEARS!
WHEN JAINA JOINS THE FIGHT!
BRANN FLIES IN FROM THE SKY!
SAURFANG WILL CLEAVE YOUR HIDES!
FORDRING HAS THE POWER OF LIGGHHTTT!
WHO'LL SAVE THE DAY?
Rhonin: THE ALLIANCE!
Sylvanas: NO! THE HORDE!
THEY'LL NEVER GET…ALONG!
SUPER (WOW) HERO SQUAD! (Hero up!)
SUPER (WOW) HERO SQUAD! (Hero up!)
SUPER (WOW) HERO SQUAD! (Hero up!)
SUPER (WOW) HERO SQUAD!
Vol'Jin: Hey mon…that was a TERRIBLE parody.
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With a jerk of surprise, Zackel woke up from his dream. Even as specific images began to fall away, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to make sense of what remained.
"…I really think I need to stop eating food I'm conjuring out of nothing."
Zackel had no idea why Rielle was training in her underwear. The previous times he'd seen her run through her weapons practice, she'd been wearing her under-armor leathers, and sometimes pieces of the armor itself. Either she felt more comfortable doing it this way, and had waited to become more comfortable with Zackel before she did it, or it was a different phase of the training. Zackel didn't ask: he had a feeling the answer would bring him pain no matter what it was.
If she noticed his occasional glances at her as she trained, she didn't say anything. For his part, Zackel only glanced at her when some abrupt movement of hers caught his eye: his mind was mostly focused on another alchemic formula he was trying to work out. With the room sealed to prevent heat loss and the washroom cleaned, there did not seem to be any more immediate tasks (unless Rielle wanted another bath, which hopefully would NOT involve Zackel standing around blindfolded again), and hence Zackel had moved onto other matters. Like figuring out where they were going to get wood for their fire if they ran out (the former Orc chief's room had a decent amount, but no sense waiting until they were down to a few twigs before addressing that problem), and beyond that, other ways to pass the time.
Eventually though, Zackel hit a mental dead end, and found himself just watching Rielle, and her inhuman grace and power as she trained. If Zackel had known about such people, he would have likened her weapon drills as a combination of a Viking and a samurai: a Viking's power, ferociousness, and relentless drive, coupled with a samurai's fluidity, discipline, and constant, eternal refinement of their combat skills. The fact that she was an immensely attractive woman with a figure to die for (one Rielle worked herself half to death for on that, and was hence well-earned) certainly didn't hurt, but that fact mostly hung around the back of Zackel's mind…
"So, you getting your rocks off well enough, or should I dump a bucket of water over myself to drive it home?" Rielle said abruptly, facing away from Zackel when she spoke.
"Huh? Oh." Zackel replied. "You don't have a very high opinion of me half the time, do you?"
"You? Maybe more than half. Men? Nuh-uh." Rielle said, swinging around with her axe, continuing to train ferociously as she spoke. "Most of the time, you stick it in, yank it out, and then there's…"
"Rielle, Rielle, please! Too much information."
"Fine, no details. But for most of you I could have made do with a sword hilt."
"…wouldn't that be really cold and unpleasant?"
"I wouldn't know." Rielle said, a few locks of hair having come loose over her face again as she looked at Zackel. "My point stands. Most of you men aren't much of one. Now, you want to continue undressing me with your eyes?"
"Do you get extra exercise from jumping to conclusions? Yes, I was watching you. Not for that reason though, mostly. It's your technique. It's both fascinating and admirable. As for the small part that WAS for that reason…well, why wouldn't I? You're a work of art there too."
"Flattery will get you nowhere." Rielle said, sweeping her hand through her hair.
"Still, it's mostly your combat technique. Mostly…but how about this?" Zackel said, changing the subject. "I think I can help you with the training."
"Oh really."
"Yes." Zackel said, manifesting a snowball. "I'll throw these at you, and you have to dodge or block them."
"Your weak arm will toss balls of powder at me. I am sure this will help prodigiously." Rielle said with heavy sarcasm.
"Dismissing my efforts out of hand, yes, that's original. Actually, the snowball is because I figured, MAYBE, we should start small. Considering that there was a high chance you'd consider that a waste of time…" Zackel said, as the snowball hardened into a ball of ice. "There. Dense as any stone. As for my arm…"
The iceball lashed off Zackel's palm like someone had hit with a baseball bat, flying past Rielle and smashing against the wall, leaving a spider web of cracks on the stone.
"Not the relevant part." Zackel said. Rielle, despite this demonstration, gave a taunting chuckle and assumed a stance.
"Try me, little man. And don't cry when I knock one of those…"
Rielle jerked her weapon up, smashing the ice ball Zackel had summoned and projected while she was talking aside. Standing up himself, Zackel held up both hands, forming more weapons of frost. Rielle chuckled again and gestured for Zackel to bring it.
Zackel did, hurling ice at Rielle for nearly thirty minutes, the Draenei dodging, deflecting, or blocking nearly all the projectiles, with the only hits she took being glancing ones. Zackel had pressed on despite this fact (and the fact he wasn't aiming to hit her or hurt her, just help her training), having worked his way up to five projectiles being tossed in different patterns and timings at a time and been about to move up to six when Rielle held up a hand to stop.
"And once again…you manage to step…just above useless. Which is something, I guess." Rielle smirked, breathing clearly albeit deeply, more strands of wet hair down over her eyes and her body soaked with sweat and melted ice. "But I've had enough of your little tricks for today Zack. Get over here. Time for more combat training."
"Really? I was hoping I could just slam my head repeatedly on the floor instead. Same result, and quicker." Zackel said, even as he began stripping off his robe. Despite what he said, he was resigned to what was going to happen.
"Oh come on wizard. You just spent half an hour wearing me out, didn't you? This is a prime opportunity for you to have your way with me." Rielle said, putting her own weapon aside and stretching a bit.
"Same rules?"
"Yes. For your sake." Rielle said. "Maybe if you do good, I'll start teaching you practical, real combat. But that's if you do good. So no biting, no hair pulling, no cheap shots, and remember, don't touch these." Rielle said, indicating the tendrils behind her ears.
"What do those DO, anyway?" Zackel said, rotating his wrists.
"These? They help with hearing. Well, did. Sometimes. I…don't really remember all the details." Rielle said, brushing one of the lengths of flesh. "They used to be wholly filled with a soft liquid that aided in picking up vibrations and relaying them to the ears…but that was aeons ago. Eventually they came to be more tissue than liquid…sometimes. For some Draenei they help hearing a lot, some a little, and some they're just sort of there. Even if they don't have a proper use, though, they're sensitive. So I don't want you grabbing them unless you have a damn good reason."
"…an odd feature." Zackel commented.
"Oh you should talk. I've studied human bone structures as part of my warrior training. Do you know you have a residual tail in your rear end? If you're going to call my body into question, why don't you tell me what's THAT for?"
"Uh……um……." Zackel said. If he had known about the rumor passing around Northrend due to recent archeological discoveries about the Old Gods and the 'curse of flesh', he might have presented it as another example of the ancient beings' cruelty, giving humans a pointless bone that was just there to be broken. Lacking such knowledge, he was forced to literally grasp at straws (or in Zackel's case, the air, and with exaggerated comic motion to try and distract Rielle from gloating that she'd stumped him) for a bit before he shrugged his shoulders.
"Damn straight. At least these can-moving on." Rielle said, assuming a combat stance.
"What? They can what?"
"I said WE'RE MOVING ON. Now get over here so you can taste fur."
"I've had enough of that to last me a…" Zackel managed to get out before Rielle again demonstrated her ability to generate bursts of ridiculous speed to blur over to Zackel and toss him on the 'combat mat'. She immediately seized his arm and fell to the ground beside him, torquing it.
"Your arm is now useless." Rielle said, before giving his wrist a slight tweak. "Now your wrist's broken. If I'm feeling particularly angry or cruel, I can keep this up until I completely dislodge your arm from your body."
"Ow." Zackel whimpered.
"Here's how you get out of it wizard…"
If asked, Zackel wouldn't have said that he 'enjoyed' Rielle's combat lessons. Some people might have expected him to say it was great, rolling around with a half-naked woman (well, alien, but woman enough). Zackel would have pointed out that the whole process was pretty much all take, no give: Rielle was utterly merciless in her teaching and refused to hand Zackel an inch. Being a mage, and doing all his body work via intense meditation and energy flow (which, while it kept him slim and in shape, did nothing to develop strength in his muscles or flexibility in his joints), he was hard pressed to put up anything resembling a proper resistance. Maybe that was the whole point of her lessons slash practice, but Zackel had also noticed that, while she had not repeated her 'beg me' maneuver, it was clear that she still, sometimes anyway, enjoyed the compromising positions she repeatedly got him in a touch too much, tweaking his nose, sticking her tongue out at him as he tried to get his arms free, and getting him so turned around and dizzy he sometimes lost which way was up.
But, she WAS teaching him, instead of pretending to do so in a way that let her beat him to a pulp. That, Zackel could tell. It was hellish, but he was starting to pick things up. Maybe he'd have to sacrifice his ego to pick up more, but Zackel could live with that.
It probably helped that, despite the cocky airs he put on, he didn't have much of an ego since…
Heat…
Blood…
Laughing, such joyous, cruel laughing…
Zackel slipped out of Rielle's grip, and much to her (and his) surprise he actually managed to get around her and hold onto her arm to pull it into a restraining grip. When Rielle tried to elbow him, he shifted his weight to get out of its range, keeping Rielle's arm locked behind her.
"……..Well, wizard. Maybe you actually ARE learning something." Rielle said, turning her head around to face Zackel. Disquietly, she looked happy. Her glowing eyes sometimes made her hard to read: Zackel couldn't tell exactly WHY she looked happy, hence the disquiet.
"Now I can actually start trying."
In two seconds, so quick Zackel had no idea what she'd done, she was out of his grip.
The next three minutes were probably the worst pseudo-beating Zackel had ever taken in his life.
"Got anything else, wizard boy? Any more tricks?" Rielle said when she was done, nudging Zackel with her finger as he lay on his side. Zackel's response was a lamenting gurgle. "Come on. I'm waiting. I like interesting fights. More satisfying to…"
Zackel surged up and tried to tackle Rielle to the ground. The draenei may have been a little surprised, but it wasn't enough to help Zackel, as she seized him up before he could get anything resembling an advantage, flashed him a smile that would have done wolves proud, and hurled him over her.
And found she'd mis-calculated where the furs were, causing Zackel to do a rough face plant into the hard stone floor.
"AH! ZACKEL!" Rielle said, crawling over to the mage's limp form. "Zackel? Oh shit, oh shit…"
"Uggghh-awrgh." Zackel moaned, pushing himself up as blood fountained from his nose. "Ugh, too much…ahhhh…"
"Oh man…" Rielle said, looking around for something to put on Zackel's face. She growled in frustrating as she found precisely nothing that worked, and returned to Zackel as he knelt on the ground, holding his nose. "Hold still…let me…"
"I think…"
"Come on…let me…" Rielle said, shifting Zackel's hand away as she carefully and gently took his face in her hand. "Okay, tilt your head back…just a bit…"
"Ow." Zackel said, as Rielle felt around Zackel's features with a feather-light touch.
"I don't think you broke anything. Just mashed your nose…" Rielle said, closing said nose between two fingers to allow the blood to clot. "I'm sorry Zackel. I didn't mean to do that."
"Ugh…"
"It'll be all right…just let me check…some more…" Rielle said, feeling around Zackel's face a bit with her other hand. "No, definitely no broken bones. How's your teeth?"
"Huh?"
"Did you lose or break any teeth?"
"Mmmm-mmm."
"Okay good…we're lucky then…okay…" Rielle said. "I'm sorry Zackel. I…I'm sorry, just…"
"Mmmmm. I…understand…" Zackel managed to mumble. "Just…glad…you are."
"Hey." Rielle said, sounding mildly (albeit genuinely) offended. "I'm bad to the bone and all, but I'm not a monster."
"…right…never thought…you were." Zackel said.
The images that flittered across his eyes, not full-on recollections but brief glances at the old horror, made him feel as bad that he was lying to himself, and by extension Rielle, as his nose did.
Of course, once it was clear Zackel's close call had just gotten him a bloody nose, Rielle's sympathetic attitude had dried up and she'd begun needling him again with her usual witticisms. Zackel could almost swear she was as happy at the fact that she could keep tossing semi-insults his way as the fact he wasn't severely hurt.
Zackel had gotten his revenge though, when he'd pulled out the Thrust board for their now nightly after-dinner game and announced that her handicap had been cut to 10 points. After the nose incident, Rielle had no solid ground to lodge a protest, and proceeded to play with a reduced chance to win and Zackel pulling no punches of his own. Which resulted in several crushing victories for him in a row.
"And of people, the one to step in was Lady KATRANA PRESTOR." Zackel said, in the middle of a story as he laid a stone down. Rielle almost immediately put a stone down herself…right where Zackel had thought she would. He slammed another stone down in turn, and Rielle stared at the board and realized she'd been out-maneuvered again. With a fake cry of rage, she mimed picking up the game board and beating Zackel over the head with it. Zackel just sat there, one hand against his cheek, seemingly unfazed at the faux-retaliation.
"You SUCK." Rielle snapped.
"No no, Rielle, you keep reversing the term. The correct term is I RULE. I DOMINATE. I OVERSHADOW. I-Gack!" Zackel yelped as Rielle flicked him on the forehead.
"Talk too much." Rielle said, as she began clearing up her stones. "Do it in a way that's interesting. Continue the story."
"Right. Now, we all know who Lady Prestor really was. I don't know WHY Onyxia got involved. Maybe she was trying to shore up a plan of hers, or maybe she was just bored. While everyone thought it was pretty strange that she'd be replacing the prosecutor in the middle of a trial, she had so much power at the time no one could do anything about it. She knew that too…however, I think she focused a bit too much on the power she had and the supposed intimidation that usually came with it. So the day begins and she restarts the cross-examination…"
"So, doctor, before you began to perform the dissection for causes of death, did you check to see if the victim's heart still beat?" Prestor/Onyxia said.
"No."
"Did you see if breath still flowed through his lungs, or blood thrummed in his veins?"
"No."
"And why did you NOT do this, doctor? How do you not know the victim was alive when you began your work?"
"Because his brain was sitting in a jar on the desk."
"I'm not sure if at this point Onyxia was just too into her chosen tactic of 'hammer away to try and produce doubt' or if she simply was winging it as she went along, because the next thing she said, possibly before her mind could catch up…"
"But the patient could have still been alive!"
The courtroom fell silent, as Prestor/Onyxia realized just what she had proposed. Unfortunately, said realization was not fast enough to cut off the doctor's answer.
"I suppose he could have still been alive and part of the nobility somewhere."
"…ha! Oh light, ha ha ha…!" Rielle snorted. "That doctor's lucky she didn't return to her true form and eat him right then and there!"
"Well, the story IS somewhat apocryphal…"
"A-what now?"
"Oh, sorry. Its truth is somewhat questionable. Might be partly made up, or two stories mashed into one. You know."
"Yeesh. You mages. I'm not exactly a kobold when it comes to speaking Common, but leave it to you wizards to keep making up new words."
"It's what we're good at."
"Besides being squishy."
"Yes, yes." Zackel said. "Whether the story is true or not, who can say. If it is, the doctor is probably lucky King Wrynn came back when he did. He might…anyway." Zackel said, placing a stone down.
"He might what?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"Now I'm curious. Finish the sentence, Zack. Or I'll finish you." Rielle said, gesturing menacingly.
"…what?"
"Huh?"
"Finish me? Finish me how? That sentence makes no sense."
"Uh…oh fel. Well it's not like every witticism-see I can use big words too!-that comes out of your mouth is a winner either. Finish what you were going to say."
"…are you SURE?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"…If I recall correctly, you might not like it."
"Try me."
"…okay. Fine." Zackel said. "That doctor might be the only lucky one in regards to King Wrynn coming back. The rest of us…who can really say."
"…heh." Rielle said, rubbing a finger beneath her nose. "Speaking mockery against your king? That's treason, is it not?"
"If Wrynn has made it treason to express what one believes, then he fully deserves my judgment. And that is simply this: he is an idiot. A complete and utter idiot."
Rielle's face became a bit clearer, a general expression of dislike settling on her features. Zackel had anticipated that, and began speaking again before she could.
"But maybe I have no right to judge. I wasn't at the Wrathgate." Zackel said. "And from what I have managed to gather, you were."
"…Yes. On the rear lines. There were so many eager, strong warriors there that we had to draw lots for who got the primary positions. I suffered poor luck, that didn't turn out to be so poor." Rielle said, swallowing. "…I still hear them screaming, as that thrice-damned plague devoured them. The stench was…something I doubt I'll ever experience again. And I don't want to. I don't…" Rielle said, before her complexion went pallid and she held up a hand to her mouth.
"Rielle…"
"I'm all right. I WAS fortunate. I lived. Lived to see the Horde prove themselves to be new talk, and same old action. The battles at Wintergrasp, after that, proved it. The Horde cannot be trusted, and it would be far better for this world if they were quelled. "
"…maybe."
"MAYBE?" Rielle said, looking up, her eyes angry and intense. "Have you actually seen the Horde when they're being themselves, wizard? You think the fact they fight the Scourge as well means anything? IT DOESN'T!"
"We…"
"The orcs can claim finding their true heritage all they want! It hasn't changed how bloodthirsty, and how vicious, those orcs always seem to be at their core! And their allies…trolls are maybe even worse! I don't care if they're a renegade offshoot of WHATEVER, they're still trolls! You ever see what happens when a troll wants to prove a point? I could tell you stories that would make your skin crawl so much it would rip right off your body! And even if we could denote what the Forsaken did at the Wrathgate, they're the living dead! You can't be brought to such a state, and remain the same, and their inability to really accept that and stop blaming the living for being alive doesn't make them tragic, it makes them stupid, dangerous THINGS! The only ones who really mystify me are the Tauren, but I've never seen a Tauren give me any quarter in any encounter I've had with them! And the Blood Elves, oh the Blood Elves, forgetting the Highborne, forgetting Shattrath, forgetting Kael'thas and any and all SETBACKS he might have had, fel, forgetting their addiction to magic WHICH WAS THEIR OWN DAMN FAULT, and the ATROCITY they committed to STEAL the light of paladins for their own benefit, that thing that gets me, REALLY gets me, about the Blood Elves is their unfathomable CONCEIT. It's bad enough that they're so in love with themselves that I'm amazed they have relationships and don't just kiss mirrors, but they seem completely incapable of caring about anything, ANYTHING AT ALL, besides themselves. I once backed up a spy on a Horde camp, and part of what we saw were the wounded being tended. Orcs, trolls, fel, even FORSAKEN were looking after the injured. Not a blood elf in sight. Oh, save one little pocket nearby, watching the efforts of the doctors. I wasn't close enough to be sure, but from their body language, I'd lay even money that they were placing bets on who would live and die. Me on my worst, cruelest day can't even come close to the cold, disgusting arrogance that seems to hold sway over everything so many blood elves are. That's the Horde, Zackel. That's what Wrynn, the so-called IDIOT, wants to wipe out. I don't care how wise, how powerful, how damn blessed Thrall is, and from what I've heard he's one hell of an exception to the rules. But he's out-numbered a hundred to one by creatures that couldn't hold a candle to him. Eventually, they will win out. And Wrynn will be proven right."
Rielle fell silent, and with an angry snap laid a Thrust stone down. Zackel looked at the move, and then began twirling one of the stones in his fingers.
"You're not all wrong though." Rielle said. "I…really can't stand the Horde…"
"Understandable." Zackel said quietly.
"But…only one side will win a Fourth War. I may not be as wide in my tarring as Wrynn is, but I don't disagree with his mindset…save for the fact that he seems incapable of grasping that fact. The fact that he seemingly can't…it keeps me from throwing my support completely behind him. I wouldn't call him an idiot, but…" Rielle said, helplessly gesturing at the air.
"He's not without strong reasons." Zackel said. "I can only imagine his life. Centuries of peace in the Eastern Kingdoms overall, no indication of what was to come…and then the Dark Portal opens, and the corrupted Orcs come storming through, burning and destroying, murdering his father in front of him, driving humans across the continent with the strong possibility the Orcs would sweep them right into the sea…I was born during the time when the counter-attack began, and the Alliance won the day in the end, but I've heard many stories from survivors that they truly, completely thought it was the end of the world. After enduring all that, I'm sure Wrynn thought they'd stepped back from the brink, and that nothing could ever grow that bad again. Then to be proven wrong as he was, with the fractures between countries, and Onyxia's manipulations causing the death of Wrynn's wife, and then the Third War with the Scourge, who turned Arthas, who Wrynn considered a great friend, into what he became…I can see why Varian would hold a great deal of anger and hatred in his heart. And then his disappearance due to the Defias, losing his memory during their attempt to abduct him or his escape from them, I've heard conflicting accounts, getting enslaved by orcs as a gladiator, and then after a long journey of re-discovering who he was and all that had befallen him, having to fight his way back to his throne and save his kingdom all over again before Onyxia took over. And that's leaving out all the variations of the story I've heard, like someone made an evil twin of him, or Onyxia raped him in human form and conceived some sort of human/dragon THING who called him father when Varian killed him, or…well, there's been a lot of accounts about what exactly happened during his return and Onyxia's unmasking and death, who can say what really occurred. Such events would greatly change a normal man, let alone what King Wrynn had already endured before all that. And then the Wrathgate, and what befell Fordragon there due to the Forsaken's betrayal…it would take a saint not to react to it all, and Wrynn is no saint. After all that, I can see perfectly well why he'd seize onto the idea that the Horde must be wiped off the face of Azeroth."
Zackel paused, before he looked at his Thrust stone and dropped it in his makeshift container, plucking another out.
"But…" Zackel said. "Have you ever seen a grid-plate, Rielle? It's a gnome invention, a self-heating lattice of metal powered by some gnome trickery I have yet to understand, and considering I study the field…well, self-heating when they work, which isn't often…but I heard a gnome say something once. He lamented that a cat accidentally sat on a hot grid-plate of his, and I asked him if that was not a good thing: would the cat no longer sit on a hot grid-plate now? Yes, the gnome said, but the cat would also never sit on a cold one either. And it struck me how true the lament was, and what it means. You need to only take the knowledge out of a situation that applies to it, and stop there. The fact that many don't is a human failing. But our innate flaws only take us so far. Wrynn should remember it was Onyxia who was behind all that later suffering, not the Horde. He should remember the Horde members who aided him getting home, because I'm sure there are a few. And while his initial assessment after the Wrathgate that all the Horde had turned against him may have been acceptable, the fact that it was a renegade faction of the Forsaken who committed that atrocity, who were promptly exterminated partly by the HORDE THEMSELVES, and that this knowledge has become so far-known that I know it, and yet the fact that Wrynn persists in his saber-rattling towards them…well, maybe calling him a complete idiot is too harsh. But he's not heading in a direction that seems likely to make me change my opinion. And this time, he doesn't have a Horde invasion, or dragon manipulation, or sects of genocidal alchemists to lay blame for the failings in his assessment. He just has his own self. And the king I knew, as obliquely as I may have, is better, and needs to be, than that."
"…right then. You done, or do you want to keep using up air in this room until we pass out?" Rielle said, oddly mirroring Zackel's earlier pose of leaning her face on one hand, though her tone was not dismissive of Zackel's argument. Rather, she was calling him on how overblown it had become.
"Sorry. But after you busted out your own panegyric, the mage in me felt that it had to be, at the least, matched."
"My what now?"
"…speech."
Rielle dealt out another forehead flick. Zackel took it with his usual resigned expression.
"Look, you're right. Maybe I haven't really interacted much with the Horde…" Zackel said.
"You haven't."
"But as you yourself has said. Thrall's quite a leader. And every bad thing that happened to Wrynn, Thrall can match, or maybe even surpass. Wrynn got to be a slave for what, a year at most? Thrall was born as a slave, his NAME means slave, and the man who raised him, Blackmoore? He was as cruel and as terrible as any of the Horde members you encountered, and he didn't have the excuse of demonic corruption, magic addiction, or being raised from the dead. Oh yes, there may have been issues about his father being a traitor, and how that affected others' opinions of him, and how he got a raw deal because of it and how that effected HIM in turn, but compared to the issues I just brought up, it's like comparing a flower to a tree. They might both be plants, but they're not the same. Yet, is Thrall the one chomping at the bit to start a new war? No. Maybe Thrall, as you said, is just blessed with a saint-like deposition, but as you also said, he has to deal with the fact that so many of the creatures he gathered together as the Horde do NOT. Yet when Daelin Proudmoore-wow, Thrall has trouble with people with Moore in their name- came sailing in to Kalimdor and tried to kill his new society, did he declare that all humans would never change and that they needed to be wiped out? When the Dark Portal opened up again, did he declare that it was human warlocks that brought the Legion back and that he would ensure the failings of his species would not be repeated through the failings of others? When Wrynn confronted him, did he jump on the chance to start a fight and be fully justified in defending himself and by extent his people, or did he react purely defensively? And did he not do all that despite all the creatures around him who probably wanted him to? You're right, maybe Thrall is fighting against a tide that will eventually drown him, but the fact that someone like him is in charge of the Horde…"
"Passing ouuutttt…"Rielle fake-groaned, clutching her throat.
"Okay, I'll sum up Rielle. The greatest tragedy here is, in the biggest issues, neither side is wrong. I don't expect us to all join hands and dance in the fields, but you yourself saw it in that Horde camp, tending their wounded. Evil, and weakness, is not a trait inherent to race, not even for something like the Forsaken. But the tragedies of the past and the failures inherent in our nature is only going to hold up as an excuse over our constant scuffles and the flames of war so much. We have to come together over our similar traits, not go drawing more lines in the sand just because we can! Our TRUE enemy, the Scourge, has no such variables. Those within the middle that were going to break away already have. All that remains are the rank and file undead who may as well be machines made of meat, and their elite accursed rulers whose bodies and souls are so corrupted with evil that you could probably breed a whole new generation of poisons out of their blood. THEY'RE the enemy. Them, and the Legion behind them, who made them, who corrupted the orcs in the first place, trigger events of that notwithstanding, not to mention anything ELSE that's lurking in the dark wanting to kill us all…damn it Rielle, why do I call Wrynn an idiot? Because he's utterly obsessed with history without LEARNING ANYTHING FROM IT!"
"…History." Rielle said, assuming a very solemn tone. "A record of things left behind by past generations, started in…let's say 475. Thus we should try to view historical times as the behind of the present, for this gives incite into the anals of the past. From the secondary sources we are given hindsight into the future. Hindsight, after all, is caused by lack of foresight."
"…you know, if you hadn't made that terrible pun with anal, I honestly wouldn't be sure if you were attempting your own musing or making fun of me."
"This is what happens from you wizards reading so many books. You get dust on the brain, and sneeze it on us." Rielle said. "You're a smart guy Zackel. But you're not smart enough to realize that I'm not saying you're wrong in your assessment. And that you're not going to change my mind about the Horde. I'm not going to swing my axe into every orc or whatever face that crosses my sight…but I have yet to be given a reason that that's not how it's going to end. I know of past tragedies too. My people were the first victim of the orcs, after all."
Silence filled the room.
"What's that?" Rielle spoke up.
"…huh?" Zackel said.
"You look like you were going to say something."
"What? Oh…no. No, I'm done." Zackel said, as he summoned every bit of guile he possessed and lied directly to Rielle's face. He had almost said something, and stopped himself, a subtle motion Rielle had detected. However, she either wasn't paying attention to his follow-up motion, or she believed what he said without question. And hence Zackel got away with it.
"Well, finally." Rielle said, laying another Thrust stone down. Within him, a small voice spoke up in Zackel, raising the cruelly barbed point of what it said about him that he was building a friendship on secrets. Zackel ordered the voice to shut up and shoved it down into a corner of his mind. He'd never claimed to be a saint either. "Remind me never to ask you mages what you think again. Stick to writing bad poetry, Zack."
"For your information, I happened to be pretty good at poetry. On the spot poetry at that, too."
"Oh really, what part of mage training is that?"
"Thaumaturgic Locution Correlation."
"…you just made that up."
"Nope. It's about linking what you want magic to do with words and gestures. Including stream of consciousness creativity."
"Oh really. Prove it, mage."
"Pick your rhyme."
"Rhyme?"
"Rhyme it is." Zackel said, as he drank from his canteen.
"Wait, what?"
"You just asked for a poem where the rhyme is, well, the word rhyme, as far as I can tell. How many lines do you want?" Zackel said.
"I don't care, forty-seven!" Rielle said. "Yeah, Mr. Clever, let's see…"
"A panto-writer, Harry Hyam,
Who was extremely fond of rhyme,
Said one day to his comrades: "I'm
Just sick of writing pantomime
For which I get paid half a dime…"
("What's a dime?"
"It's a term used in places for a silver piece, I don't know why. So half a dime is five coppers."
"Are you going to have to explain half the…?")
"I'm going to write a poem sublime,
By which you'll see my fame will climb
Above all others, for this time
I'm only going to use ONE rhyme!"
His friends said he was past his prime
And even working overtime,
They said, he'd never keep ONE rhyme
Right through a poem. But Harry Hyam
Had started off and by noontime
He'd written fifteen lines of rhymes
Each one the same, and by bed-time
He'd written more and more betime.
But listen! Isn't it a crime?
It happened that a small enzyme…"
("What?"
"A complex organic substance that causes chemical transformations of material in plants and animals."
"How am I supposed to…?")
"That looked just like a speck of lime
Had landed on his head some time,
And as he heard the midnight chime
This enzyme started making slime
That smelt of matters maritime,
And oozed out through his fingers' grime
And landed on his paper. I'm
Quite sure I don't have to mime
What happened next, but, by bedtime,
The slime and grime had caused a zyme…"
("Now you're just making words up to cover your ass."
"Zyme: The substance causing a zymotic infectious disease, zymotic being a general epithet for infectious disease for those familiar with its more complicated details, originally because it was regarded as being caused by a process analogous to fermentation."
"…HUH?"
"Moving on!")
"Which wholly covered Harry Hyam,
And, as he lived in Hildesheim
Which has a hot and sultry clime
(Especially in the summertime),
This zyme converted into…chyme!"
("The semi-fluid pulpy acid matter into which food is converted in the stomach by the action of the gastric secretion!"
"…that's what I was going to guess.")
"And soon digested Harry Hyam
From slimy feet…to slimy cyme!"
("Okay wait a second…"
"Cyme: A head! From Old Dwarfish cyme or cime meaning "top, summit."
"Did you used to sleep at night or did you just cram books into your head endlessly instead and suffice entirely on your overtaxed brain not realizing it needed to rest?")
"His hands, his hair, his pen, his rhyme.
And all it left was the half a dime
They'd paid him for the pantomime
They put on once, in Burgwindheim.
His friends came round at breakfast time,
And sighed to find this paradigm
Of poets gone. The half a dime
They took and tied it up in sime…"
("Sime: A rope or cord. A northern dialect word last recorded being used in Lordaeron 110 years before the First War." Zackel rushed out.
"What, twine wasn't good enough?" Rielle said.
"…D'OH!"
"And I believe that's three short, mage." Rielle said, smirking.
"Who said I was done?")
"And buried it in Gundelsheim.
And on the grave they planted………thyme,
- For that's all there was left to rhyme."
Rielle stared at her erstwhile companion. Zackel held her gaze, even as he put a Thrust stone down.
"Your move?"
Rielle's eyes fell on the board…and realized that she'd been out-maneuvered. Again.
"…I hate you." Rielle said, and flicked Zackel in the forehead again.
Why don't you give her a real reason to hate you, mage?
Why don't you tell her what you swallowed and lied to her about? That it was her people who fell to Sargaras long before the Orcs did, and that no draenei has any right to condemn any member of the Horde with a legacy like that? And why you know that fact so well?
Fel, since she has such a strong opinion of the Horde, why don't you tell her the full truth of why you didn't have any Runes of Portals?
Or better yet, why don't you tell her that two nights ago, you had a recollection of your pathetic true self so strong you knelt by her sleeping side for ten minutes and wondered a few times if you should just stab her?
What does it say, of all you've seen and assessed about her, that you keep drawing links between her and the other one? That you keep wanting something, anything, to avenge your total failure, no matter how insanely tenuous?
You're pathetic. Jasciona saw it. Rielle will too. Worthless, hypocritical vermin…
Zackel's eyes popped open as the dark words faded away. He wasn't sure if the soul-wrenching condemnation had been a nightmare, his doubts given full reign in the strange realm between dreams and reality…or something else altogether.
He hadn't forgotten the strange noises he'd heard the previous days, after all.
The memories were fresh enough that he got up and checked both door before he went back to sleep.
"Gar'mak." Thrall said, as he watched the chaos before him. "First old demons from our past, then that lord of the dead in Northrend, and now…giant enemy crabs!"
"WWWWWAAA'RCK!" Orc guards yelled as they flew past Thrall, knocked through the air by the giant enemy crab…which was pretty much what was said on the tin. It was a crab, it was giant (the size of a house to be specific) and it was certainly treating all the Horde outside Orgrimmar as an enemy.
"Do something Thrall! A REAL Warchief would!" Garrosh yelled from behind the large rock he was crouched behind.
"Yes, doesn't that mean you need to come out and solve the problem boy?"
"I have a stomach cramp!"
"Dis is a big problem mon. I hope you have a big solution." Vol'jin said, looking at the destruction the giant enemy crab was causing.
"I do. Cairne?"
The Tauren chief slammed down his foot, the impact rippling out and erupting beneath the giant enemy crab.
"What's the plan then mon?" Vol'jin asked, as the giant enemy crab was flipped onto its back.
"I shall defeat this foe with the power…OF ROCK."
With a mighty leap, Thrall jumped up onto the crab's vulnerable underside, manifesting several totems…
And then he split the Doomhammer in two and began playing them like drums.
DUN-DUN-DUN-DUNDUNDUN-DUNDUN…!
"………I seen a lot of screwed up things in my time, but dis take the screwed up cookie." Vol'jin said with dull surprise, as Thrall's rhymic pounding on the writhing crab echoed through the valley. One of the crab's claws tried to snatch Thrall, only for Thrall to bat it away and continue pounding on his idol-drums.
"Ha! You call that rocking out, Thrall?" Garrosh yelled, appearing and pinning the claw to the ground with a giant axe…which was also a giant electric guitar. "THIS IS HOW A WARCHIEF ROCKS OUT!"
Garrosh began firing off his own instrumental in tune with Thrall's. Sylvanas appeared, stared for a second, then shrugged her shoulders and began firing at the crab with her crossbow.
"Well now, you wanna make me think I'm going crazy any more?" Vol'jin asked Cairne. Cairne proceeded to pull out a trumpet and begin blowing on it, adding to the music and assaulting the crab with sonic shockwaves. "Thank you. Me gonna go with the flow now."
Vol'jin split his blade in two, drew a circle of energy in the air, and began slamming the blades against the circle in time with the music, sending pulses of destructive energy smashing into the increasingly-beleaguered crab.
And then for some reason Varian Wrynn and Jaina showed up. Why? What, you were expecting sense to return?
"NO HORDE WILL ROCK HARDER THAN I CAN! COME JAINA!" Varian yelled, producing his own electric guitar and charging in.
"I hate my life…" Jaina said, as she also produced a bass guitar and followed Varian, on foot and in tune as he also began playing.
And so all the people and creatures fortunate to be in the area saw a once in a lifetime sight as seven heroes of the world proceeded to make some noise all over a giant enemy crab, a symphony of power that ended when Thrall roared and slammed the Doomhammer down on the crab with one last thunderous beat.
The giant enemy crab exploded into millions of tiny pieces. Considering how hard Thrall had hit, it was amazing it didn't fly apart into its component atoms, as he jumped down and his allies posed around him.
"FOR THE HORDE!" Thrall bellowed.
"Jaina, get back here!" Varian yelled at the sorceress, as she was posing with the Horde.
"No. Maybe people will actually think I'm cool now."
IN NORTHREND.
"I planned to drive my foes out of their minds with fear…" The Lich King grumbled. "I did not expect THIS kind of lunacy."
"Hey Dracula." Werewolf said.
"FOR THE LAST TIME I'M NOT DRACULA!"
-------
"Guhhhhhhh!" Zackel yelped, jerking awake again. "…okay, I DEFINITELY need to stop eating food I'm conjuring out of nothing."