Lost Lion

Disclaimer! I don't own wow, Blizz does and your soul too!

Volume 3: Chapter 17

*** Two Days Later – Moltenflow (Formerly Kharanos) ***

High Thane Moltenshaper of the Dark Iron felt a strange shift in the air. The fire elemental bound to him through their master began to wail loudly once more. It had acted this way before when the Bronzebeard survivors had sought to challenge him a few days ago. The clan chieftain had taken half of their forces, something that Moltenshaper considered overkill, to hunt them down.

Now, his fire spirits were in a frenzy again, but this time, they were joined by the wind, water, and thunder spirits of the dark elemental lords. The way they railed against their bindings made him think they were desperate to escape some unseen predator.

"Yae dare?!" he roared, tightening his grip on the elemental spirits. "Yae all belong tae my will!"

~ He comes! He's with the Dawn! ~ the fire spirits wailed.

"Who's coming at the dawn?" Moltenshaper demanded. He was about to press for more when the warning horn of the base sounded. They were under attack?!

"It cannae be!"

Suppressing the rebellious spirits, Moltenshaper strode toward the sound of chaos as the Laughing Skull and his own people rushed to the walls. Impossible—Mogor had taken half of the Laughing Skull warriors with him! There was no way the pitiful dwarves and gnomes could have defeated him!

Upon reaching the top of the wall, he was greeted by the raucous laughter of Kaz the Shrieker, the Laughing Skull's second-in-command. The female orc was pointing into the distance, her laughter rising to near-hysterics.

"What dae ye see?" he asked.

"Hah hah hah hah!" Kaz the Shrieker continued laughing, her finger unwavering as she pointed in a single direction.

Moltenshaper followed the path of her finger, which led to the same forest line that had always been there. But now that he was paying attention, he could hear a low, rhythmic thumping in the distance. His eyes shifted to Kaz the Shrieker or more specifically, to her elemental spirits to see if they were as unruly as his own. She had taken on elementals as volatile as they were obedient, and those spirits whirled around her in a crazed frenzy, much like his own.

The thumping grew louder before an unnatural arcane firestorm erupted, consuming the distant trees. The flames burned bright and furious for only a moment before reducing the entire forest to ash. When the fire finally died down, it revealed the last thing he had expected to see.

"Humans?!" Moltenshaper nearly choked on his own spit at the sight.

~The Flamebreaker! He sees us! He comes for us! Mercy!~ His spirits wailed in terror.

Kaz's spirits, however, spun with glee. ~He sees us! He comes for us! He shall burn what already burns!~

Moltenshaper ignored them, his focus locked on the tide of humans still pouring in—thousands strong. Then, as one, they began beating their shields in unison, advancing at a steady and deliberate pace toward where the dwarves had once stood. Worse yet, gryphons of the Wildhammer dwarves soared above them. His goblin zeppelins would be hard-pressed to get anywhere near.

~Hide us!~ his spirits continued to plead.

~Here we are!~ Kaz's spirits crowed.

Just when Moltenshaper thought it couldn't get any worse, a loud horn sounded at the gates of Ironforge, signaling a call for reinforcements from the Laughing Skulls. The Bronzebeards were pushing out.

'It's over…' Moltenshaper thought as he fell to his knees in despair. The crazed orc woman beside him only cackled hysterically at their impending demise.

"What are we goin' tae dae, High Thane?" a Dark Iron shaman asked.

Moltenshaper had no answers. He could only watch as the human army gathered just outside the range of their spear-throwers and archers. They had never expected an attack of this scale on the western front of Dun Morogh. With no long-range siege equipment to drive the humans back, they were trapped. Worse still, most of the Bronzebeard cannons were now turned against them, pinning them down.

There simply hadn't been a need for such defenses here, until now.

He could send out the Dark Iron golems, but they would only be swarmed and torn apart. While he was no smith or siegecrafter, even he could see the threat of those massive contraptions the humans had brought. Great crossbow-like war machines, each requiring eight dwarves just to push. Even a fool could tell they were designed to crack open fortified positions, and their own base was still unfinished. Given time, they would be peeled open like an unguarded treasure trove.

"High Thane!" the Dark Iron shaman asked again, this time more insistently.

"I—I'll—" Moltenshaper stammered, his eyes darting around for someone, anyone, who might know what to do.

He wasn't a warrior. He was a shaman, sent here to die by his former emperor. It was only by sheer luck that the Great Shaman Ner'zhul had noticed his people's worth and taken an interest in his skill with shamanism.

In exchange, he and his people had been elevated to the station he had earned in Shadowforge City. For a moment, he considered brokering a deal between the emperor and the Horde, but then, he had always been ambitious, always craved power. While he was respected as a Dark Shaman by his people, he wanted more. After all, it was his shamans who communed with the Great Firelord Ragnaros in the Depths. It was they who brought forth the gifts of Ragnaros and acted as the main conduit to his power.

So he did what any Dark Iron worth his beer would do; he seized power for himself and was rewarded for it. Ironforge itself was now within his grasp, something that even the emperors of the past had failed to achieve.

It was his destiny, his right!

But now…

"I…!" Moltenshaper struggled to find anything to say.

"That clan crest."

The voice that saved him from answering was the acting chieftain of the Laughing Skull. She pointed toward the battlefield, her tone edged with something between realization and amusement. Because of her affinity for shamanistic magic, the arcane spells cast by his Dark Iron mages, spells meant to aid communication, did not work on her. Instead, just as he had learned the orcish tongue, the female orc had learned his own. In doing so, she had picked up their unique accent and dialect.

"They're Blackhand's Bane," she said.

She was pointing at a specific sigil, the one carried by the leader of the advancing army. A large golden lion's head on a blue backdrop emblazoned his shield. The symbol of Stormwind.

A kingdom that should have been far to the south, conquered and broken by the Horde.

"High Thane," a Dark Iron warrior spoke up, his voice edged with alarm. "There are other banners out there—I see Stromgarde and Lordaeron!"

"Is that Gilneas and Alterac?" yet another warrior asked, his breath hitching. Then, his voice dropped to something almost reverent or perhaps horrified. "Wait… are those elves?!"

Just when Moltenshaper thought he couldn't sink deeper into despair, the war horn from the gates of Ironforge blared again, another warning.

Then, to his surprise, the human at the forefront of the advancing army barked something behind him; two dozen gryphon riders suddenly broke off, flying straight toward the source of the horn. They had already sent a third of their flying forces with the ogre Chieftain, Mogor. With the Wildhammer here, it wasn't difficult to deduce the fate of those goblins.

Worse yet, because he had no way of warning them in time. That meant that the goblins still pinning down Ironforge's defenders had no idea what was coming for them.

"High Thane, what are we to do?" a Dark Iron warrior asked. Unlike the shamans, he seemed almost eager for battle.

"Your orders, High Thane?" the shaman pressed again.

"I—I—" Moltenshaper struggled for an answer, but before he could speak, the female orc beside him suddenly cut in.

"I'ma talk to 'em," Kaz the Shrieker said in an almost unconcerned manner.

Then, to his complete astonishment, she turned toward their enemy, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted,

"Oi! Blackhand's Bane! Any o' them Draenei with ya?!"

Unexpectedly, the lead human stopped in his tracks, giving the orc woman an odd look. Then, raising his hand, he motioned for the army behind him to stay put.

Moltenshaper's eyes flicked to the background, where the massive siege engines were being loaded with their giant bolts. When he turned his attention back to the human, he saw that the man had tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to answer.

There was a long, tense silence.

Then, the human raised his hand skyward and fired off a golden beam of light.

It wasn't arcane, Moltenshaper knew that much. But whatever it was, its very presence sent his elemental spirits into a frenzy, struggling against their bindings once more.

'Be silent!' the Dark Iron leader commanded, forcing his will upon them.

Unlike him, Kaz's spirits whirled in delight, and the red-haired orc herself looked quite pleased by the nonverbal response.

"Good!" Kaz called back. "What say ya an' I have a right an' proper Mak'gora?"

A brief, stunned silence hung in the air before a loud cheer erupted from the other greenskins on the wall.

Meanwhile, Moltenshaper and his Dark Iron dwarves exchanged uncertain glances, as if trying to make sense of what was happening. He had no idea what this 'Mak'gora' was, but the human apparently did. The man seemed to weigh the female orc's words carefully, even cupping his chin in thought before looking directly at her.

"And why," the human asked, "should I do that?"

It was the first time Moltenshaper had heard him speak, and even to his ears, the human sounded young.

"Fer fun, o' course!" came the immediate reply. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Kaz quickly added, "Oh, an' honor, o' course! That's, heh heh, that's important, ye know?"

The human shook his head. Kaz's body language shifted, she was panicking at the thought of his refusal.

"Wait just a moment!" she blurted. "If ye win, me an' me clan will leave this place to ye. And if I win... we'll still leave the place! How 'bout that?"

Moltenshaper's eyes widened.

Oh, he could kiss the orc!

The place was lost, true, but this meant they could leave and fight another day. He gave Kaz a look of pure admiration before turning back to the human, eager for his answer.

"Sounds like either way, you get to leave here alive," the human pointed out.

"Aye, that be true," Kaz admitted, "but if ye don't fight us, we'll take as many o' ye down with us as we can."

She cast a pointed look at the human forces behind him.

All around Moltenshaper, Dark Iron warriors grew grim at the thought of fighting to the death. The humans, though fewer in number, had siege engines that could do untold damage before they even engaged in close combat.

"How 'bout I sweeten the wager?" the Laughing Skull Chieftain suggested eagerly.

"How?" the human asked cautiously.

"How 'bout I kill the Dark Iron fer ya?" she replied. "Oh, an' the little green ones too?"

It took a second for Moltenshaper to fully process what the female orc had just said. "You must be jok—"

"Argh—!" The dwarf warrior next to him sprouted a serrated dagger blade. Though it was of orcish design, it was forged by his dark iron brethren.

"Betray—rrugk!" The dwarf shaman that had been prompting him had his mouth covered and and his throat opened by a female orc wielding yet another dark iron forge weapon.

All around him, his Dark Iron warriors were being stabbed in the back by their supposed allies, the Laughing Skull.

"Kaz, yae traitorous bitch!" Moltenshaper roared in anger. He tried to call on the spirits, but a heavy blow struck his chest, sending him sprawling onto his back. His ribs caved in under the force, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Through blurred vision, he saw the female orc shaman standing over him, smiling wryly.

"It's been fun," she giggled.

With that, she swung her stone hammer down at his face.

In Moltenshaper's final moments, weakened as he was, the greatest humiliation was not his death, but that the spirits he had once commanded were fleeing instead of avenging him.

*** Dun Morogh – Laughing Skull base (Formerly Kharanos) ****

'Why were the Laughing Skulls so fucking weird?!' I thought in frustration. I wasn't the only one feeling that way. I could sense the incredulity of the soldiers behind me. 'And why the hell does she have a dwarf accent?!'

"Are they mad?" Saidan asked in confusion. "Those are their allies…"

"…I did say the Laughing Skulls are known for treachery and deceit," I reminded him of my assessment of the clan a few weeks ago.

"And what is a 'Macgorah'?" Saidan asked, eyeing the orcs on the wall.

"A sacred honor duel in orc culture," I explained. "It's how they often settle disputes."

As the infighting on the wall continued, the leaders of my army began to gather around me. Technically, I could give the order to attack now, but that would probably unify them. As every military leader preached, never interfere when your enemy was making a mistake.

"Alleria?" I turned to the elven ranger who had approached my side.

"They're definitely killing all the Dark Iron dwarves on the wall," the Ranger Captain confirmed before cocking her head slightly. Her ears flickered momentarily, as if she were listening to something. "And the ones inside as well—I can hear fighting behind the walls."

"These greenskins aren't right in the head, are they?" Brann asked as he joined our group. Though I noticed the subtle joy in his eyes as Dark Iron corpses were thrown over the wall.

"They are said to be the most insane clan, my lord," Aloman chimed in. She had dismounted from her horse and had apparently caught Brann's remark. "Though I hope you're not seriously considering the honor duel. We all know how it turned out last time."

"You mean that I won?" I grinned at her. Judging by her frown, she saw it coming.

"No, I mean they didn't honor it," Aloman reminded me.

Before anyone could comment, a war horn, distinctly orcish in nature, blew from the mountains once more.

"My brother must be breaking out!" Brann said excitedly before glancing at the orcs still fighting on the wall. "And they can't send reinforcements anymore!"

A bubbling sense of elation threatened to overflow in me, but I tamped it down quickly. Yes, that was great news; exactly what we had hoped for, but before we could celebrate, we still had to get past, or rather, through the Laughing Skull forces. Unexpectedly, their new chieftain, a female orc I had no knowledge of, had made a pretty sweet offer.

I had expected a brutal fight, one that we would win, but at the cost of heavy losses. What I got instead was the most unlikely deal of a lifetime.

"I... I think I'm going to take her offer."

My statement did not go over well. The group immediately erupted in protest.

"Hierarch, Knight-Champion Aloman just said we can't trust their word!" Saidan argued.

"Marshal Lothar, you are needlessly putting yourself at risk," Alleria warned. Though her tone was emotionless, I recognized a chastisement when I heard one.

"Aye, lad, I got a good look at their walls," Brann added. "They'll buckle under our ballista's within the hour, two at most, no need for a duel, I say." He then spat to the side. "Typical shoddy Dark Iron rush jobs."

"Marshal, I feel the need to point out that such a thing would be frowned upon by High Command," Aloman said, citing military regulations. What she really meant was that my father would not be pleased. Even Allyson and Laura were giving me deep looks which I refused to read too much into.

I heard their words and understood their concern, but I knew something that they didn't.

Unlike the orcs I fought at Redridge where I wrested K'ara back from, the Laughing Skull were just crazy enough to honor the deal. In the original timeline, they had Turalyon, Alleria, Khadgar, Kurdran, and Danath dead to rights. They had offered the Alliance forces in Draenor a way to steal back the Book of Medivh from a Ner'zhul-led Horde. However, the stipulation was that they could only send a small force into Laughing Skull territory, where they had to trust the Laughing Skull not to betray them. When all was said and done, the Laughing Skull honored their word and allowed the expeditionary heroes to return to their lines with the coveted Book of Medivh.

The Laughing Skull in front of me shouldn't be too different from the ones in the original timeline. I cupped my chin beneath my helmet, making a show of consideration for their words. However, I had already made my decision as the chaos in the keep faded. It was good to crush an orc clan, especially a major one, but perhaps they could also be a thorn in the Horde's side. Either way, they couldn't go back to the Horde—orc clans don't run. And judging by how they were isolated here, without any other clan backing them, none of the other clans wanted them near. That was the thing about wildcards and jokers: you never know if they'll help or hurt you.

"It's done. I'll hear no more arguments about it." I could tell they were displeased with my decision, but orders were orders. Time to roll the dice and see what I got. "Everyone, move back one hundred paces."

"Aye, Hierarch," Saidan reluctantly confirmed. I felt the others move off with him. Facing the wall, I took out my sword, stabbed it into the ground, and looked at the female orc on the wall who had been waiting for my answer.

"Mak'gora!" I shouted in affirmation.

The female orc let out a loud whoop before she turned to the orcs beside her and repeated what I had said.

"Mak'gora!" she shouted before letting out a shrill, shrieking laugh of joy.

"Mak'gora! Mak'gora! Mak'gora!" a random orc started the chant, and it soon spread like wildfire as the entire wall followed suit. "Mak'gora! Mak'gora! Mak'gora!"

The female orc leader disappeared from the wall, and the groaning sound from the front gate let me know that it was being opened. The chant of 'Mak'gora' echoed as she strode out, accompanied by hundreds upon hundreds of her clansmen. That didn't go over well. The soldiers behind me tensed and drew their weapons.

"It's a trap after all!" Brann shouted. I could hear the ballista being readjusted, their firing solutions aimed directly at the horde. "Ready!"

"Drawn and nocked!" Alleria's voice could be heard.

Damn it, I should have known. The Laughing Skulls were known for deceit, but they had another thing coming if they thought we were unprepared. Fifty ballista firing into that mass would mow down hundreds of them alone. I was about to give the order to fire when I spotted something that I initially thought was goblins.

"Soldiers of the Alliance," Saidan barked. "March—"

"Waiiiiit!" I shouted. "Hold fire! Hold!"

"Hierarch?" Saidan asked.

"At ease!" Alleria suddenly shouted. She must have seen it too. "Do not release your arrows!"

"Lass?" Brann asked in confusion. "We've got the perfect time to—"

"I... I think those are orc children," I pointed at what I had initially thought were goblins. But no, they were too small and thin to be goblins. Many of them were wearing war masks, chasing after adults, while others were being carried on the shoulders of larger orcs. None of them looked older than six.

"Bloody 'ell..." Brann's eyes widened in horror as he quickly waved for our ballista to hold fire.

Even Saidan slowly lowered his hand while the soldiers seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

I couldn't blame them. The more you fight an enemy, the more you come to know them. The orcs had not conducted themselves with honor in any sense of the word and spared little mercy for our civilian population, but... we were not them. If orc children had been caught as collateral during our siege, that was unfortunate, but to mow them down at point-blank range? Not even the most bloodthirsty among us were capable of such an atrocity, or at least, I hoped not.

More importantly, I wasn't ready to cross that line, nor did I think I ever would.

Though the sight of orc children was surprising. Weren't they all magically aged up by the fel? Wait, giving it a bit more thought, I remembered they had needed numbers to overwhelm the Draenei. They must have aged up any children over ten at that time. That was years ago, so naturally, there would be new children to replace the ones that had been lost…

'Huh. That's one little mystery solved,' I thought, before shaking my head and refocusing my attention on the enemy in front of me.

The orcs poured out from the base, staying behind their leader as they cheered her on. Those who had weapons raised them, chanting 'Mak'gora' over and over again. The walls were soon lined with both children and adults, though the latter outnumbered the former. Without needing direction, the orcs who had followed their leader outside stood back, allowing her to walk alone the rest of the way toward our battle line.

"At the first sign of treachery, attack—but not before then," I told my leaders. "Be one hundred percent certain because we'll all have to live with the consequences. Understood?"

They all nodded solemnly.

"Good. Now, give me our standard," I ordered. Aloman barked an order, and soon a footman carrying the First Legion standard came running out to hand the twelve-foot banner to me.

Taking an idea from the Roman Legions, I had suggested creating a unique banner in a similar style. At the very top was a gold-cast mold shaped like a shield, with the stylized 'L' of Lordaeron at its center. After all, Lordaeron was the patron of the Alliance, so it had to be the first. Behind the crest were two molded sword hilts, one representing Gilneas, the other representing Alterac. On either side of the crest were the first banners of Stromgarde and the violet eye of Dalaran. Attached to the crest was a banner bearing the blue lion's head on a white background. Finally, at the end of the banner was a tube that would allow the banner to be rolled up so that it could be protected from the weather, along with phoenix heads from Silvermoon adorning each end to act as weights to keep the banner unfurled.

Holding the standard firmly, I walked to the middle of the distance between our two forces, feeling their eyes on me. Then, in full view of both sides, I struck the ground twice with the First Legion standard, making two sharp 'tink tink' sounds, before slamming it down on the third strike with all my strength. The force of the blow embedded the Alliance standard in the ground as I turned my gaze toward the female orc I would be facing.

The female orc, in turn, took a crudely fashioned Laughing Skull standard and repeated my motion, stabbing it into the ground with a forceful thrust. There were less than fifty yards between the two of us, and another hundred between me and the orc crowd. If the Laughing Skull chieftain tried anything underhanded, I had more than enough cushion to return to my lines comfortably. Another layer of insurance was that all the orcs were well within range of my forces' ranged attacks. We would massacre the majority of their forces outside the walls before they could even reach us halfway.

The female orc began to close the distance, and I did the same. We stopped at ten yards apart, finally allowing me a good look at her. She was about my height, which was no surprise since orc women were generally taller than most human women. In her hands was a short black axe, one side sharpened, of dwarven make—most likely from the Dark Irons. She wore some kind of mail mesh stitched together with wolf fur, exposing her arms and giving a generous view of her cleavage. Unlike other shamans, she chose to wear breeches, probably for easier movement.

As I checked her out, I could feel her eyes doing the same. I finished my appraisal first and lifted my head to meet her gaze. I noticed a few finer details. She wore a skull mask, crafted from some Draenor creature, carved to make it appear as though it was laughing. Her hair was the color of blood, tied into a long ponytail. She wasn't bald like most of the female orcs I had encountered. Then she moved her free hand and lifted the mask away, revealing a face that wasn't anything special. Though, that could just be because I didn't find orc women particularly attractive in general.

"I'm Kaz, the Shrieker, former chieftain o' the Laughing Skull, former second of Mogor, tae ogre ye killed, and now leader o' the Laughing Skulls, again." The orc, Kaz, chuckled at her long-winded intro. Hearing dwarven speech with an orc accent up close still felt strange.

Well, seeing as she removed her helm, I supposed I should do the same. I took off my helmet and tossed it backward over my shoulders, knowing someone would catch it.

"Callan Lothar, Marshal of the Stormwind Legions, and Hierarch of the Templars of the Radiant Star," I introduced myself. Kaz smiled in a pleased manner at the title.

We took a few more moments to size each other up before I recalled an unclear rule about the Mak'gora.

"Since we can both use magic, it should not count as cheating or being dishonorable," I pointed out to her. Based on my old memories, the orcs hated when magic was used as they considered it cheating. However, the female orc let out a sharp, barking laugh.

"If ye don't want me tae use my spirits, then feel free tae stop me. Anyone who says otherwise is a spineless coward." Kaz grinned savagely at me.

"Good." I nodded, slowly lifting my runeblade.

In response, the orc chieftain quickly backpedaled while raising her arms into the air, muttering rapid incantations. I too backed away cautiously, anticipating a strike. Who knew what other tricks the orc had up her sleeve? That was when I felt a low pressure in the air, pressing down on the area. It took me a moment to recognize it; it was the same type of energy that Ner'zhul had used at Stromgarde. The female orc was calling on nature magic, magic that was being absorbed into her body at a rapid pace, like a black hole. I idly noted, with mild amusement, that I could now feel the different "flavors" of magical energy.

'Ah yes, Callan Lothar, sommelier of magic,' I thought with a grin, just before the energy condensed into the shaman's body, forming a small spark. The spark then exploded with violent nature energy—energies that I could tell were being molded by the woman.

"Storm, Earth, Fire!" the female orc roared. "Heed my call!"

And just like that, a maul made of blackened, charred rock formed in her hand. Wait, no—it wasn't just rock. It had cracks running through it, and within those cracks, ominous red energy flowed like molten lava. At the same time the maul formed, a bolt of dense lightning struck the female orc. Most would expect the person on the receiving end of a lightning bolt to be severely injured, if not outright killed, especially one laced with such magical power. Instead, the lightning warped and twisted around her body, forming a protective shield. Finally, a visible charge of elemental air spun around her arms, coiling up to the handles of her weapons.

Old knowledge, long fading with the years, came rushing back to me as I realized that the shaman before me might just be an Enhancement Shaman. I had thought those came later in the future, since even the shamans who I fought at Stromgarde were mostly of the caster variety. 'Elemental Spec,' as they were classified by the game. The difference between the two was clear: Elemental shamans were ranged casters, much like mages, while Enhancement shamans thrived in close combat. They were not support classes by any stretch, unlike Paladins or Priests. No, Enhancement shamans reveled in the heat of battle.

The female orc stared at me, panting with excitement. Lightning crackled up and down her body, forming a lightning shield made of nature energies. The weapon she wielded was a rock maul that I believed was called 'Rockbiter,' though I could be mistaken. As for the swirling wind elements around her, there was a strong probability it was the dangerous 'Windfury' buff. In the game, this buff allowed a player character to suddenly deliver massive amounts of damage, but I had no idea how that would translate in reality.

What I had thought would be a magical slugfest was starting to look much more like a melee contest than anything else. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, reflecting on all the battles I had fought so far—from gnolls and trolls to orcs and ogres, and finally, warlocks and shamans. Each battle, each struggle, each life-threatening encounter, from reclaiming K'ara to fending off the body-snatching Sargeras, had forced me to find ways to win. Failure meant a fate worse than death when dealing with entities capable of holding your soul indefinitely. I'd even journeyed to distant lands, fighting in massive battles like the Defense of Stromgarde and, in a moment of sheer recklessness, dueling Grom Hellscream himself.

Those moments flashed before me like a slideshow, and when it ended, I had an epiphany I had long denied myself.

I was no longer the same person who had arrived in Azeroth, and that person, too, was not the same as the one I had been a year ago. Every battle had seen me grow. My skill with the Light came more naturally now than it ever had before. I remembered struggling with sword and shield, but now I could swing my great runeblade as though it weighed nothing. What's more, in recent days, I had learned to see the gaps in my opponents' defenses and predict their moves. While I doubted I was a warrior on par with my father or the future Varian Wrynn, I didn't need to be. I just needed to be good enough.

Exhaling deeply, I looked at the female orc and returned her excited expression with a small smile.

"Aegis." I uttered, feeling the powerful, dense Light energy several times stronger than Power Word: Shield surrounded me. Though the cost was several times greater, in a one-on-one fight, I didn't have to be as mindful of my faith, holy power, or mana usage.

Holding up the runeblade to face level, I infused the Light into the sword and watched as the runic script illuminated. The female orc's grin widened, and after a brief moment of eye contact, she charged at me with a high-pitched, grating screech. Now I understood why she called herself "the Shrieker," but the annoyance of the sound didn't deter me. I met her rush with one of my own.

"For the Alliance!" I roared.

"For me!" the orc shouted in return. "And only ME! Hahahaha!"

'Fucking Laughing Skulls... So goddamn weird!'

TBC…

AN: Sorry been a away for a while, but did not expect to have this stolen by a dude name Darkness013. I put in a report but seems like nothing happening, maybe because this is a fanfic.

First of all thank you to Icura for helping me edit this! You da man!

Secondly, thank you to my patrons for sticking with me through this semi drought. I'm thankful for your continued support while I was offshore. So again, expect us to be back on schedule, thank you again!

As for this chapter, heh, I tried to give each orc clan like each kingdom a different flavor, hope the crazy Laughing Skull came off well. The Laughing Skull attitude could be found in WC2 Beyond the Dark Portal Human Mission Ten. The way they talked and the way you play out their maps let me what they were like during WC2. Kaz herself is from Warlords of Draenor and and was their Chieftain at the time. For those that played horde side, she had a massive lady boner for Thrall's mama and followed her to be your helper because of Thrall mama. Hope ya enjoy!

Once again, please considering supporting us on patron at "icuraandvahn" , Thank you!

Finally, as always, CC and discussions are always welcomed!