The sun was rising over Azeroth as the half-orc whelp slept peacefully in bed. When he approached the soft, plush surface, he didn't quite know what to expect, but was definitely preferable over a lake bed crash landing.
A sudden rapping against the door had stirred the half-orc from his slumber, "Hello?" a muffled voice came from the other side, "Is this the right room? I'm looking for the half-orc, is that you?"
Groggily, the hatchling approached the door and opened it to find the guard that he had helped yesterday from the wolves. He had his helmet off so his full face was visible; he had a very young face around mid twenties, his tightly cut chestnut brown hair did not distract from the fact that a few strands of hair were poking out from his face; a clear attempt at a beard that would not come for years.
The hatchling's vision shimmered again as the image of the guard he had appeared again. The wizened old face of the guard amongst his family was now before him this time over, it lasted longer than the brief moment it had yesterday.
Within the vision, a man dressed in similar Stormwind armor had opened the door to the warm cabin that the old man seemed to be in, surrounded by his grandchildren.
"Father!" The man entered the home, arms outstretched wide. "Thanks for keeping the kids company! Someone has to keep Stormwind safe during Winter Veil, but I believe I made it just in time for dinner!"
The old man chuckled to himself, "Ah Victor! How good to see you've made it! And on time too! At least you have made a better soldier than me in some aspects!"
The two men embraced as they all gathered around the fireplace. The hatchling watched on to the comfortable scene, but felt the entire reality shake for a moment.
"Hello?" The vision seemed to blur a bit more. "HELLO!"
Snapping back to reality, the hatchling saw as the guard was waving his hand over his eyes, "You awake there?"
"Ah! Yes, I- I am fine…" The hatchling shuffled awkwardly.
"Riiiiiiiight." he looked the half-orc up and down, "Look, you're the one the Captain told me to escort to Stormwind, so are you coming or not?"
The half-orc nodded in response, and the guard motioned for him to follow, "Alright! Let's get going then! By the way, I suppose if you're taking the Captain's offer, then I might as well introduce myself."
"My name is Marcus Longfellow, soldier of the alliance military, and primary victim to whatever circumstances lead me here." He gave a bit of a sigh and grimace. "What's your name?"
"Erm, I uuuh well…" The whelp stumbled over his words for a moment, but then took a deep breath and spoke.
"Duskscale." The words rang out with confidence, "My name is Victor Duskscale."
Longfellow nodded, "Alright! Nice to meet you Victor." he motioned outside, "No time like the present then?"
Walking outside the inn, Victor noticed the old horse drawn wagon up ahead. As they got in, he heard some of the guards snickering at Longfellow as he got in the wagon and mumbled something about "preferring corporal punishment to this." With a flick of the reins, the driver was off, and they were on their way to Stormwind.
The winded road took the wagon further and further as Duskscale watched the village of Goldshire shrink in the distance, hopes rising for what his future could be like. His view turned towards Marcus who was absent mindedly staring off into the woods.
"So what's Stormwind like?" Victor asked. Surely it HAD to be better than somewhere like Blackrock Mountain at the very least.
Longfellow barely took notice as he continued to stare out. "Hmm? Oh well it's… big I guess."
The wagon continued to wheel forward, until it had arrived at a massive, monolithic gate. Victor's mouth gaped open as the huge doors opened up to a massive bridge, flanked by stone statues of several figures.
Overhead hanging from the gate was something that caught his attention: A huge black dragon's head strung up by chains. The head seemed to have been decaying for quite some time as some bone was visible beneath, a twisted look on its face.
Longfellow noticed the half-orc's chilled expression, "Yeah, there are many threats out there… especially when it comes to Deathwing's children I suppose." He tried giving a light chuckle to lighten the mood.
Victor's head snapped back to Longfellow, "There's that name again," his train of thought latching onto the mention of Deathwing. "It was strange to hear even once, but this many times?"
Just as he opened his mouth to ask Longfellow, the view of the gates of Stormwind changed as they entered the market district. Waves of market stalls came into vision as crowds upon crowds shopping swarmed about the city.
A merchant had approached the wagon and was incessantly offering "only the finest of cheeses" to the driver, but was chased off by the horse as it tried to eat the product he offered.
Longfellow just rolled his eyes, "First rule of Stormwind," he held up his finger towards Duskscale, "Never turn your back to the merchants. They'll sneak up on you before you know it, and if you listen to them you might end up in hundreds of gold in debt."
The stone path continued eventually into a dirt road as the taller buildings of stone soon turned to stockier, wooden constructs as they rode through Old Town. Guards could be seen marching in lines all convening to one larger one as they filtered further through the streets.
Taking a sharp turn the wagon finally halted in front of a training ground, training dummies were all lined up in the mud sections as soldiers were either slashing into the dummies, or sparring with each other.
As the duo exited out from the wagon, much staring could be caught directed in particular towards Duskscale.
"I wouldn't mind it too much," Longfellow led the path forward as he spoke, "Besides, I think it's just the hair for the most part, nothing a barber can't fix."
Through the lines of training dummies and soldiers, Victor followed Longfellow up to a crowd just up ahead. Soldiers all bundled into a huddle cheering and jeering at something before them.
Pushing through the tight knit of the crowd, the two happened upon the scene of two warriors locked in a sparring match, but this one seemed different.
One of the warriors seemed to be just another soldier attempting to hack away with his sword, but his opponent was deftly blocking all strikes, not even allowing a single scratch on him. As soon the soldier raised his sword again for another strike, the skillful man dodged off to the side and caught his opponent's sword by the hilt with his own, twisted the blades and caused the soldier's to fly through the air and thud into the ground. Pointing his sword at the now disarmed opponent the man had achieved victory.
The winner was dressed in similar gold armor to the Captain in Goldshire, taking off his helmet to reveal his face. He was an older man, strands of gray hair intermixed with his blonde short cut, and a small beard on his face. He raised his hands in triumph. Longfellow approached the man, closely dragging Victor behind him.
"Captain O'Neal sir!" Marcus gave a salute, "I have orders from Captain Amelia to deliver a potential recruit to the Stormwind guard to you."
O'Neal stepped forward and looked at Victor up and down, "With all respect to Captain Amelia and I know she cares…" he stared at the half-orc dead in the eyes, "I'm not so sure that this individual might be Stormwind guard material."
The man turned around and walked over to a rack of weapons, grabbing a sword from it.
"That being said…" he took the sword and threw it at the feet of Victor.
"I was never one to not test a soldier's mettle, so let's test yours." He gave a wide grin and drew his sword.
Gingerly picking up the weapon, Victor tried to mimic the stance that Captain O'Neal held as the sword slumped a bit in his grip.
O'Neal took a deep breath in, and immediately charged forward. He swung his sword relentlessly as Victor tried holding the sword to block the strikes.
Clang! The half-orc's hands stung as his sword flew several feet away as they rocketed from his hands. O'Neal stepped back and smiled.
"Right hand below the pommel first, and then left hand!" he yelled, "Make sure your grip is comfortable and not too tight!"
Grabbing his sword from the mud once again, Victor nodded and raised his weapon again, ready for round 2.
This time around it went less embarrassing, the whelp's weapon didn't immediately fly away as he withstood the Captain's fierce blows.
"Nice!" O'Neal shouted through his strikes, "But always remember that footing is just important!"
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, O'Neal's foot swept underneath Victor's stance as he was brought crashing into the mud.
The Captain turned around towards the crowd and started to walk away, "Unfortunately if this is all you can muster, I'm afraid you've got a long way to go."
Laying in the mud defeated, Victor laid there as he stared at the hand he held his sword in. His memory flashing back to the image of it stabbed as he was helplessly pinned there, the glowering eyes of an orc above him, tusks curved into a murderous grin. As he stewed there, the mud beneath him began to heat and bubble.
O'Neal had barely any time to react and raise his sword as he heard a loud scream before Duskscale clashed his sword with his.
CRASH! The clash of the swords rang out as a visible gust could be noticed from the strike. O'Neal grimaced for a moment as he even saw the steel of the swords crack.
"Now THIS is more like it!" O'Neal shouted out as he shifted his movement. "But I am afraid I don't have too much more time to spend here.
With a swift kick to the gut, Victor was knocked back again and was left staring ahead in disbelief at the man before him.
The Captain sheathed his sword and spoke again, "Your moves are sloppy and you have a long way to go. However, I don't think you're completely hopeless now."
O'Neal began walking away and said, "Initiation for you will begin tomorrow, I suggest you get to the barracks and rest up, you've got a LONG day ahead of you."
Longfellow slapped Victor on the back as the half-orc was staring at the Captain. "Well would you look at that!"
He pointed down one of the dirt roads, "Barracks are that way, I hope this works out for you." Longfellow chuckled to himself. "Looks like my work here is done, if you ever need me I'll be in Goldshire."
With that Longfellow chuckled and walked off, leaving the hatchling to his own devices.
The whelp was left to slowly wander past the other soldiers, some staring or even some laughing, and slowly heading towards the barracks. It was a small stocky building of stone with no windows. A deep orange sunset sat behind the building that Victor took a long look at.
Entering the building, Victor found lines of bunk beds all put together in a line, and finding one that wasn't personalized with trinkets of the soldier, got into the top bunk, and stared at the ceiling.
"What was that power that had appeared for that brief moment in the fight?" his blood boiled in the moment as he remembered the rage he felt for that brief moment, the anger that permeated throughout his entire body.
His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening revealing of all people, Longfellow again; his expression was one of embarrassment and annoyance.
Victor sat up in his bed and waved his hands towards the guard, "What are you doing here? I thought you said you were going back to Goldshire?"
Longfellow groaned and sat in the bed right beneath Victor's bunk, "Turns out, getting you over to Stormwind was only HALF of the punishment Captain Amelia gave me…"
Longfellow shifted in his bed as it creaked uncomfortably before he mumbled out, "Now I'm stuck here, and am supposed to 'learn responsibility'." He sighed, "I suppose it's better than losing my job altogether.
Victor felt he had to at least give some words of encouragement, "Well I am glad you are here at least, better to have someone you know than no one at all!"
Longfellow gave a bit of a laugh, "I suppose you're right there! It must be either the tusks or hair, but I think you might find somebody else to hold a conversation."
The two both talked and laughed for what seemed to be about an hour before the other soldiers returned to the barracks as well to tuck in for the night. Giving a final smile, Victor Duskscale closed his eyes, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Thank you so much for reading Chromatic Scales, I do hope you are enjoying it. To be honest, I did not expect this chapter to come out so soon, but a big burst of creative energy brought me here! I plan to make larger chapters more like this in the future, so maybe leave a review, relax, and stay tuned! -Chimichurngas
