world of warcraft gold--Features
Prelude
It was a black night in Duskwood when a dark shrouded messenger from the trolls of Dun Morogh rode into the hidden city of Stoneforest. Within its black moss-covered walls lived a sinister race of Trolls. Stoneforest was an ancient city, originally built by the elves at the height of their power, but had for the past centuries laid abandoned. When most of the Orcs had fled to Kalimdor, the forest trolls realized they were vulnerable, and could swiftly be destroyed in a quick onslaught by forces of the alliance. While the humans and dwarves were busy fighting the daemon forces, the forest trolls had united as the Gublak tribe and taken Stoneforest for their own. For the past century they had lived there, building up their strength, both in number and in arms. The dark messenger rode swiftly through the rusted gates; his business was with the old shaman Rabog, the head of the Gublak tribe. He was one of the few of the Gublaks that the mountain trolls really respected. Although looking malicious but weak, weary and old, he was as smart as a mountain troll, and more competent at magic than any of their own kind, although not even his nearest advisors had any idea of the true extent of his power, nor his true identity. The messenger was bringing a reply from King Ubag Logark, the head of the Trolls of Dun Morogh. Two months earlier Rabog had sent out a messenger to the king, a rally, to wage war upon the humans, who he now considered weak. The reply was clear, the king hated both dwarves and humans for continually killing and plundering trolls in the mountains, ignoring that it was in fact nearly always the trolls who were the aggressors. The mighty forces of Ubag Logark were preparing to soon leave the mountains in the cover of darkness. They planned to enter Stoneforest two weeks later to prepare the final assault.
Durin looked about him as he stood in the middle of the path that led to his home. The day was coming to an end, and the old and worn trees of the mountains were casting long shadows over the city of Dunhammer. The sunset was red, not the shade of red which tell of blood spilling, but the peaceful red of a sunset that had set over the city for many long and good years. Only the oldest of the dwarves now remembered the great wars of the past, and the sunsets of those ages which were all but peaceful. Durin was one of those dwarves. He was but a child when the last war began. If you can call it a beginning, for the war had lasted through many ages of men and dwarves. He wasn't there for the last alliance of the free races, where the enemy was at last beaten back. He however experienced a much more sinister side to warfare, more cruel and cold than open battles. Although he didn't remember many individual incidents from his childhood, he remembered the hopelessness and despair, and one sight that he still bears with him, undimmed by the decay of time. The sight of his father ruthlessly being cut down by an orc. Unarmed and without warning, the Orcs had attacked their small village, killing and plundering as they went, but they hadn't killed Durin. A huge orc had picked him up, he still remembered the foul stench of the creature and his own fright; he couldn't quite remember if he had wept, but he thought he had. The Orc had brought him to his captain, but for some reason he was allowed to live. Since then he had never been really afraid, though his memories often haunted him at night. It had become especially bad during the last few months, his only son had just left the village and in his nightmares, he himself was no longer the captive, it was his son. That was worse, much worse.
Durin roused himself from his thoughts. It was getting colder, and the last rays of the sun had resigned its battle against the shadows, leaving the city in complete darkness with the exception of glimmering lanterns hung by the road. He huddled and set out at a high pace, it wasn't particularly long to his house, only a mile or so, but he didn't want to be home too late, as he was heading south to Stormwind the next day to complete a rather important deal concerning iron deliverances to the city. Not that dwarves really needed sleep, but Durin reckoned the time would be better spent in his bed than out in the cold snow. Durin was a true dwarf, in all meanings of the word, short but sturdy, strong and with a great sense of duty and honor. His beard was long and healthy, its colour being something between orange and red. He was very proud of it and according to himself it was the longest and strongest beard in all of Dunhammer, although quite a few dwarves would disagree on that.
When the morning light shone through the small windows of Durins house, Durin himself had not only wakened up, he had already eaten breakfast and prepared himself for his journey. It was quite a long distance he would have to walk before sundown, if he were to reach Stormwind within the scheduled three days, and Durin put great honour in always reaching his destination on time. Not once in his fifty years as a tradesman had he missed an arrangement, not even when he had to fight four robbers while carrying fifty pounds of gold, which he had brought as a sample to his customers, did he end up late. A story which he loved to tell, and which all his friends had heard countless times. The snowfall of yesterday laid on the ground, reflecting the sun which shone from a cloudless sky. It was truly a nice morning, and a great weather for walking.
Durin brought nothing but some provisions for the trip, a small keg of real dwarvish ale, which often had yielded him a higher price amongst humans, his rifle and some shots. After double checking his equipment, he started to descend down towards the southern city gates.
In Stormwind two days later, people were gathering around the marketplace. One of the great captains of Stormwind, Loran, had been captured by a band of mountain trolls, and the herald of the king proclaimed that the king himself had offered a reward of five thousand gold pieces to anyone who could locate the captain and kill the trolls. There was some murmuring among the crowd; people wondered why the military itself couldn't locate the missing captain. According to the herald, it was because of the need to maintain a strong defense of Stormwind; they simply couldn't spare anyone, especially considering the recent reports of trouble stirring in the mountains. That however, was only a half-truth. The long years of peace in the region, had lessened the need for a strong military might, so when the old swordsmen and archers grew too old and weary to be of any use as soldiers, no one had taken their place, people would rather go into peaceful professions as craftsmen and farmers. As a result, the economy was prosperous, but the armed might of Stormwind was diminishing. At most there were ten thousand soldiers in the army of Stormwind, now, there was not even two thousand.
Amongst the audience, a young dwarf stood listening. He was small, even in the reckoning of dwarves, and had yet to see his sixteenth summer. His eyes looked grey at first glance, but if one looked closer, one could almost see a strong fire burning within, leaving a strong feeling there was more to this dwarf than one might think. He was clad in green, his only weapon a small, but well crafted sword sheathed in his belt. His name was Barlan Firesmith, and had lived his entire life in the dwarven city of Dunhammer. From birth his parents realized that he would not stay there, there was something special about him. His heart was not just filled with ordinary curiosity, but also a strong desire for exploration and adventuring. Many dwarves said he resembled a gnome more than he resembled a dwarf, and there was truth in that. Two months earlier he had finally given his father the message he had rued for so long, he was leaving Dunhammer, and although he had no idea what he was looking for or what he was hoping to find, he knew he would have to start looking in Stormwind. So far he had kept himself alive by doing various errands for the craftsmen, something he didn't really mind, it was work and it payed reasonably well, but it was definitely not what he wanted. When the herald had finished his message, Barlan instantly knew what he had to do; he quickly approached the herald and asked if there were any further details he could give him to help his search. The herald looked distrusting at him, “You are much too young to be fighting this kind of trolls”. Barlan tried looking up at the herald, but was somewhat blinded by the bright sun, he lowered his head a couple of inches and replied; “Beg thy pardon sir, but I'm stronger than I look, at any rate, trolls are easier beaten by a cunning mind than a mighty sword”. The herald didn't seem completely convinced, but still gave the young dwarf a brief overview of the situation. The captain had been patrolling with a few of his men on the road that connected Stormwind and Ironforge when they, according to one of his men who made it back alive, were ambushed by a band of trolls. They had killed most of the men, but taken the Captain captive. Barlan was given directions to where Loran had been captured, before being brushed off. The herald told him he had to brief anyone else who accepted the quest, but it quickly became clear to him that it was totally unnecessary. Apart from Barlan, no one would risk such a mission, even with the promised reward. The herald looked disappointed, mumbled something, before he mounted his horse and rode off. Alone in the center of the marketplace, Barlan looked around him, adjusted his backpack and said to himself; “Well, I suppose this is an adventure if there will ever be one”.
--
It wasn't until the day was coming to an end, and the twilight made the trees look dark and sinister did Durin finally decide to make his camp near the road. He had walked the entire day, not taking a moments rest. He had slept near dark and ominous forests countless times before without being the slightest concerned about what might lurk inside. This night however, there was something in the air that made him worried. It was like a thick fog, and although Durin was sweating from the heat that had annoyed him throughout the entire day, he was shivering at the touch of the wind which felt like ice to his skin. He wanted to continue his journey, but the air made his feet heavy, and he realized he couldn't go much further that day, thus he decided to set up his camp.
The fog was getting thicker and thicker, Durin could hardly see a foot ahead. He huddled under his blanket and fell asleep almost instantly. However, he didn't sleep for long. A desperate scream for help tore him out of his dreams. As he woke, he noticed that the fog seemed somewhat lighter now, but it still hindered him from seeing clearly from where and who the scream came from. However, he knew that it undoubtedly came from somewhere in his immediate vicinity, so he grabbed his gun and tried to make out what had made the sound. Sweat was dribbling down his forehead and his breath was heavy, he didn't feel much like a proud and heroic dwarf he always thought himself to be. His mind told him that if there was really someone trying to kill him, he would have been attacked by now, considering how near the screams were. Yet he didn't feel comforted at all, if anything it made him even more frightened. Durin didn't fear open battles, he feared what he couldn't understand; the unknown.
A moment passed, yet it seemed like hours, the dampness of the air around him slowly disappeared, the fog was lifting. “This fog has to be of arcane origins”, declared Durin loudly to himself as he once again looked around and could see clearly everything about him, “as no natural fog lifts this fast.” The evil which had hindered his spirits earlier was leaving the area, a sensible dwarf would perhaps have grabbed his gear and run in the opposite direction, but Durin kept hearing the horrible scream for help in his head, over and over again. No doubt it was human, and Durin wasn't about to leave a poor human to suffer whatever evil had taken him. He equipped his light but expertly crafted dwarven ringmail, took a good sip of his ale, and headed down into the forest with his rifle loaded and ready.
Had he known what he was up against, perhaps he would have reconsidered, although considering the stubbornness of dwarves, it's quite unlikely. The King of Stormwind had sent one of his most honoured and respected Captains, Loran Captain of the City, to investigate a report given by one of Stormwinds outposts of a large unknown army traveling at high speed towards the mountains. The King suspected an assault on Ironforge, though he had no idea who their enemy might be. The human who had been captured and had screamed for help was none other than Loran. He had been ambushed when setting lair not far from were Durin had set his camp, most of his men had quickly been killed because of the swift onslaught. Loran had tried to fight his captors, but they seemed to be protected by some sort of spell which rendered them immune to his blade.
Durin ran for several hours, before his pace started to slow down. The enemy kept its speed and seemed further and further off, being one of Dunhammers finest sprinters, Durin wasn't used to being outrun and didn't like it one bit.
At last, when the morning sun had reached its full height, and his enemies had long been gone from his vision did he reach the trolls destination. Up before him towered a huge stone tower, it left Durin standing there paralyzed. Stone golems of all kinds were positioned on every stone ledge and corner, the wall being some sort of mix of stone and metal which he couldn't seem to identify. Outside the stone bastion were hundreds of trolls of various kinds. He asked himself once more why on earth he had left his valuable goods, failed for the first time in his life to make a delivery, run for hours and hours, only to stand here, looking at a fortress which hardly could be taken with a thousand men, never mind one lone dwarf, no matter how long and strong that dwarfs beard might be.
Finally he realized what he was looking at was a prison; the barred windows and constant transport of shackled men into the tower revealed just that. None were being transported out however, only inside.
Something evil had built this he concluded to himself.
He decided he had to warn Stormwind of the structure, the prospect of making the delivery, although somewhat late, didn't seem like a bad idea either. He turned away and started walking back. Too deep in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the footsteps of the troll sneaking up behind him, he didn't notice anything before a large wooden club was smashed into his head.
Everything went black.
--
Four days later, Barlan was walking in the forest north of Stormwind. Two days had passed since his departure from Stormwind, but so far he had been unable to locate the missing captain, neither had he been able to find anything which might have pointed him in the right direction. This day however, was going to change that. Quite early he had spotted large uneven footsteps on the soft muddy ground, undoubtedly from several large trolls. He followed them for a few hours before he stumbled upon a hasty, yet abandoned camp. Lying on the ground was a dwarvish keg, probably containing beer, as well as a large backpack filled with assorted valuable ores. He also found a note which appeared to be a contract of some sort, “It cant be” he told himself looking disbelieving at the paper in front of him. It was his father's camp he had stumbled upon. He had been on his way to Stormwind, but had apparently been attacked by a band of trolls. The memories of his father started flowing back into Barlans mind, he collapsed to his knees, the minutes passed like boats caught in a storm, he was afraid of what these creatures might have done to his father, very afraid. Though there was something not right about this he thought, taking another glance over the encampment. If he really was attacked, why was his rifle and shots gone?
There were traces leading in the opposite direction from were he came, and those were not the traces of a band of trolls, but rather those of a dwarf. He practically forgot about the captain he had set out to save, now all he wanted was to find his father and make sure he was safe. Through the entire day he walked alongside the trails, noticing how the forest darkened as he went. Trees were no longer a bright green, but dark and often brown, the soft, bright grass was now completely replaced with mud and decayed plants. The sun was shrouded, only a pale light shone through the thick layer of clouds, and that little light was even further filtered by the treetops. It was nightfall when Barlan reached the prison were Durin had been captured; from the height he was lying on he could see the entire valley before him, with the grim tower standing as a lone structure in the middle of it. He could see torches not far away, perhaps less than a mile from his own location. It had to be of some sort of army, and judging from the mere number of torches, it was a big one. However, he was too tired to investigate, walking all day took its toll on his strength, and without even meaning to do so he fell asleep, hidden under a rotten bush.
He awoke a few hours later, it was still night, and he was still tired. Yet he knew he couldn't afford to sleep any more should he ever have any hope of seeing his father alive again. Brushing off his clothes, he started descending down towards the huge stone complex. Outside there were only two guards now, he took a quick glance up were the torches had been earlier, but didn't see anything at all. He hid behind a stone not far from the guards. He so close he could hear them speak in there raspy and malicious voices.
“Bah, why did Rabog leave us here to rot, the prisoners are soon all dead” one of them said, peering out behind the rock Barlan could see him, he was much bigger and even uglier than the troll that sat beside him.
“I know, we should be in the big army going to destroy the humans, not sitting here doing nothing” the smaller one replied.
Barlan figured the army he was talking about had to be the one he saw earlier, “so that's what's been going on in the mountains, their planning to assault Stormwind not Ironforge” he concluded to himself, constantly monitoring the two guards in case they saw him. He knew he had to get past them if he were to find his father. A small plan formed in his mind. It was simple, almost too simple he thought. He threw a stone as far as he could, towards a rock formation in the opposite direction of were he was hiding. The trolls quickly turned their heads, then got up and ran in the direction of the sound. In the mean time Barlan slipped easy enough into the black citadel.
The smell in there was terrible; the air forced its way into his nostrils and made him dizzy. Muffled screams and the screeching of wheels made him cover his ears; he could not imagine what kind of torture took place inside these walls. Though all his senses told him not to, he continued forward trough the cell blocks, all of which stood empty. “Killed”, he said to himself, “Or in the process of being so”. The screams were getting fainter; he knew his father had probably suffered the same fate, tortured to death by these wicked creatures. The world was passing around him, he felt alone, very alone, alone in this terrible citadel of hate, alone in these wicked lands, alone in the whole world. He fell down on his knees, knowing he couldn't hold back any more, and started weeping. His tears ran swiftly down his cheek, dripping to the cold, hard stone floor below him. Soon he had passed out of pure exhaustion; the sleep was an uneasy one.
Barlan was awoken by footsteps coming towards the room he was lying in; he quickly scrambled to his feet and tried to hide himself in a dark corner and quickly wiped the sleep out of his eyes. A dark figure walked by him without stopping, probably a troll. Barlans mind raced, he knew revealing himself would probably mean he would be captured or worse, but at that time he didn't care, this creature was one of those who had killed his father. He felt anger and hate bubble in his veins, took a deep breath, drew his sword, and ran screaming in blind rage against the creature. Had the troll been armed and ready for a fight, Barlan could probably never had defeated it, though the fury and wrath of this small unexpected enemy attacking made it hesitate a moment. The hesitation would cost the troll its life; Barlan stabbed his small sword multiple times into its hardened flesh. The dwarf breathed heavily as he looked down on his vanquished foe, its lifeless body just lying there. It didn't make him feel any better, it just seemed pointless, one dead troll, when there were an entire army of them marching on Stormwind.
The dead troll had been carrying a key, Barlan looted it off its corpse, perhaps it would come in handy later.
Suddenly he heard someone talk not too far away, he swirled around and ran towards the sound. He ran through a huge cell block, probably meant to contain hundreds of prisoners, none of which were there now, at the end of it he reached a passage, the voices were getting louder, they could not be far away.
--
Durin opened his eyes, his head still aching terribly from the blow which had rendered him unconscious. “Oh, you're awake”, a human voice said. Durin turned his head and looked up; it was none other than the famous Loran. He remembered seeing him at a party in Stormwind celebrating Loran's fifth straight victory in swords fighting. From what he could recollect Loran was some sort of Captain too. “I don't think I've seen you around before, I recon you were captured by these blasted Trolls too?”, Loran continued, “There's been quite some activity while you were sound asleep, hundreds of prisoners have been transferred up to some sort of execution chamber, not a very jolly sight at all to be quite frank, though most of them were Trolls themselves”. Durin noticed the upper-class Stormwind speech, he didn't like it too much, but right now an upper-class human voice was better than no voice at all. “I'm honestly quite unsure why you and I have been spared, from what I've seen we're the only two prisoners still alive, and nearly all the guards have left. Even the one guarding our cell trotted off just now, probably to get some food or something like that. Apparently these Trolls are very well organized, which leads me to believe someone other than a troll is in charge of the forces, as Trolls are from my experience quite unable to organize anything more advanced than a barbecue.” Loran got up and started wandering about the small cell, “But enough of that, what's your story master dwarf, how did you manage to stumble your way into this god forsaken place?”
Durin started telling Loran the entire story of his journey towards Stormwind, but got hushed by Loran just as he was telling him what a fine sprinter he was. Durin was about to object to this rude interruption, but suddenly heard the swift clasp of small boots running towards their cell and quickly got up. From the prison bars he could see a small creature, possibly a dwarf, running towards them, as the person got closer Durins heart leaped. It was none other than his own son, Barlan.
--
Barlan saw his father along with a human imprisoned in a lone cell away from the rest of the cell blocks, he ran as fast as he could towards it. The key he had swiped off the dead troll fitted perfectly in the lock on the big door. “I see we got ourselves a little savior here” Loran said with a smile, considering he had been held prisoner by trolls for a couple of days he was in high spirits. “Loran I presume, I've been looking all over for you, you ought to be more careful you know” Barlan looked up towards him smiling slightly. “Barlan? How is this possible!?” Durin looked unbelieving at his son. “Well, when you go getting yourself into this kind of trouble, somebody has to come save you”, said Barlan with a big grin across his face, his father didn't say anything in response, he just laughed merrily, tears flowing down his chin and hugged his son. “I take it you two know each other?” Loran commented with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, “How about filling me in?”
Barlan quickly told the two of them about his chase to rescue Loran, how he had found his fathers equipment and followed his track. When he got to the part where he had sneaked into the prison, killed a guard and swiped the key to their cell off his body, Loran got quite impressed. At first Loran had thought Barlan to be a sway prisoner the guards had forgotten about, he couldn't possibly imagine such a young and quite unimpressive dwarf to be a sneaky rouge and deadly killer, Durin knew better what capabilities his son had and was more proud than surprised. Loran suddenly got concerned, if it was true as Barlan said, that an army was planning to march on Stormwind, the people of Stormwind had to be alerted and the army readied as fast as possible. The guards had placed the weapons of Barlan and Loran just outside the cell, just another reminder that there were brighter races than Trolls. They both grabbed their gear, and quickly ran through the prison towards the entrance.
“But, but, there are trolls out there, guards, how can we get passed them?” Barlan tried to stop the other two. They looked towards each other and only nodded, “Watch and learn son” said Durin arming his gun as he walked towards freedom, Loran drew his sword.
From what Barlan could see walking just behind, there were now five trolls outside.
Durins gun went off with a heavy boom, one of the Trolls fell to the ground, the others scrambled up and ran towards them, quickly and expertly the dwarf reloaded his rifle and fired another round at the closest Troll, it didn't stand a chance. They were less than twenty feet away when Loran started running towards them, his bright sword sharply reflecting the dim sun rays, he only had to swing his sword once, and two Trolls fell in front of his feet, the last one panicked and tried to run away, but a well-placed shot by Durin put a brutal end to its escape.
“Lets split in two, Barlan and you go to Ironforge and summon the dwarven army, while I head back to Stormwind and raise the alarm” Loran sheathed his sword “Haste is crucial, I do not know how long we have before the Trolls launch their assault”. Loran looked down on Barlan who appeared very nervous and afraid “Don't fear this enemy, we will win this battle. Do you know why? Because I know that for every man or dwarf that dies, the rest will fight more fiercely and more courageous. As long as we believe in our cause, nothing can ever defeat us.” Loran smiled before running off towards Stormwind. As he disappeared over the hilltop, Durin turned towards Barlan and smiled “I suppose we better get going then, we got ourselves a war to win”.
--
Durin and Barlan reached Ironforge two days later, their journey was quite uneventful. When the huge dwarven city was coming to view in the horizon, they saw thousands of dwarves working on the outer walls and building fortifications around the towers, it looked like they were expecting guests, unwanted ones. Durin asked one of the workers what was going on, the worker told him that they had gotten reports of a large army of Trolls coming to crush Ironforge, and had to reinforce the city to prepare for the attack. They briefly told him that Ironforge wasn't the target and the dwarf looked rather startled “Well, I suppose you should speak with the head captain then, he's inside the big tower over there. The dwarf pointed in direction of a large citadel in the middle of town. The two dwarves headed over to the citadel, and were let in by the guards, Durins reputation extended further than the borders of Dunhammer; he was considered a brave and trustworthy dwarf.
The head captain was busy looking down on a map, writing notes and positioning units. He was clad in a blue shining chain shirt, Durin stopped for a moment and looked at it in awe, Mithril shirts were extremely rare, only once before had he seen one, and that was a long time ago.
The captain looked up at them and grumbled “So, what can I do for you? Be brief, I don't have much time available to waste on idle chatter”. “I'll be very brief, you need to march to Stormwinds assistance at once, the Trolls plan to attack there, not here” Durin told him, “What? But why would the mountain trolls want to attack Stormwind, we've been the once waging war with them for years, I doubt they even care about the humans” the Captain looked mistrusting at the two dwarves “Tell me all you know”. They both told their stories in detail, when they were finished the Captain stood looking at them for a few moments without saying a word, obviously thinking quite hard on what had just been said. He then looked briefly down on the stone floor, then looked back up and smiled “Well, why didn't you say so at once? Go get your equipment repaired at the blacksmith; we got ourselves an ally to save”
--
“Sir, our scouts have spotted a huge army heading our way, since they are transporting huge siege towers and catapults, they are moving slowly, however they are going to reach our city within a week” The head scout looked towards Loran, breathing heavily, he had just ran from the city's outpost to the castle. “Hmm, then we can't afford to let them besiege us, we must ride out and meet them” Loran looked down on the map in front of him, it showed the entire southern part of Azeroth in great detail. “How many days until they reach Elwynn Valley?” he asked the Scout, still looking down on his map, “I would guess around four days, five days tops, given they march that way”. “How long do you recon it would take us to reach the valley?” Loran lifted his head from the map and turned his head to one of his Captains, which were all assembled in the room. “If we ride quickly and only carry light provisions, we can be there by nightfall tomorrow, though organizing our troops will take at least two days”. “Then do so, assemble the forces, we ride out at sunrise in two days”. The Captain nodded, and quickly left the room; the other Captains were given some brief orders by Loran and then left too.
The next day, a large army stood outside of Stormwind, at its front stood the head captain of Ironforge, Durin and Barlan. It was the entire army of Ironforge, and counted almost two thousand skilled dwarves. Loran went down and met them smiling. “I almost feared you wouldn't answer my rally” he looked at the head captain. The dwarf laughed merrily “Where there's a battle to be fought, you'll always find us”. “How about we go inside and look at my plans while your dwarves get something to eat and drink” Loran replied. The dwarf nodded “A great idea, I know my dwarves would love a pint of beer or two right about now”, before following Loran into the castle.
--
The combined army marched off at sunrise as originally planned. It rained slightly, and the grey sky didn't help with the morale. Rumors went around that a terrible mage was leading the enemy army. Barlan and Durin was in the frontline, Barlan wasn't quite sure if he liked that, he knew that soldiers in the frontline seldom survived a battle. After marching for two whole days they finally made it to Elwynn Valley at sunset. Barlan was tired and depressed, the further they went from home, the worse the weather seemed to become, the soldiers around him didn't seem in high spirits either. They stopped at the entrance of the narrow valley and two scouts were sent out. For two long hours they stood there waiting, before suddenly the scouts reappeared, he could hear them tell Loran that the army was less than an hour away.
The time moved slowly, but suddenly, in the far distant, Barlan saw something moving; it looked like a huge grey mass marching towards them. As they came nearer, he could see a cloaked creature walking in front of the rest, from the looks of it, it wasn't a troll. As the army moved closer, a ghastly cold wind blew over the valley, it felt like a great evil was approaching, something more sinister than Trolls, Barlan looked around and it seemed like all the others felt it too. The enemy army stopped two hundred feet away, Barlan could hear his breath, the silence was terrible, he knew what was soon to happen, and although he rued it, he now wanted the battle to begin.
Suddenly the cloaked creature threw his cloak down and a gasp went though the entire alliance army. It was an Orc, no doubt about it, its green skin and strong built gave that away, but it's eyes were red, shimmering like the fires of hell, and before their very eyes he seemed to grow in size. “Prepare to die, wretched humans and puny dwarves, now comes the age of the Horde, and you shall all tremble before our might, before MY might” the voice was deep and the sound of it made Barlans legs shiver, he looked about him and saw only terror in his fellow soldiers eyes. “Now, don't you see how vast the army you are fighting is? There's no chance to beat such a huge army, is there?” he then laughed, even his laughter felt like nails piercing Barlans skin. When he looked up at the enemy army, it suddenly seemed vaster and larger than ever before, he couldn't see were it ended, their numbers seemed unlimited.
He shook his head a little “Now, don't you go fall under some nasty spell Barlan” he told himself, trying to shake the curse off him, repeatedly telling himself there weren't that many enemies. He thought of this terrible evil which tried to kill him and all he loved, he once again imagined the screams of the prison and realized that would be the future for dwarves and humans alike, should they loose this battle.
A red rage woke inside him; he looked about, the men stood as paralyzed. “Well, if no one else intends to fight, I suppose I have to go fight this battle on my own” he thought, grasped his sword and started walking towards his enemy.
From someone watching the battle from afar, this would have been a strange sight, a small dwarf set to fight such a vast enemy. It was a heroic act, and it was exactly what was needed. The men looked up in wonder at this lone dwarf, which courage seemed unlimited, and they were once again filled with renewed vigor. Only when Barlan son of Durin alone in the army of four thousand drew his sword, and the echo of it sounded amongst the lines, only when he slowly walked forward to meet their enemy, alone if no one would follow him, were the men awakened from their deep fear and despair, and the spell was broken. Loran was the first to be roused; he looked up in wonder on the young dwarf stumbling towards the enemy, and raised his horn. The call was answered by the other captains, and soon all the horns of the western army was sounding clearly in the valley, soon the entire army was crying “For Azeroth!” into the damp air. At the same moment it was as if a dark and sinister fog was lifted from their hearts, and they could once again see their enemy clearly and unshrouded. Their numbers which for such a short while ago seemed so countless, and the fight which just had seemed so hopeless, now seemed hopeful, and suddenly victory seemed within their reach. Loran raised his sword against the evil army, and followed by all his men, charged towards it.
The battle was short lived; the assault from the allied army was so strong and so hard, that the enemy quickly had to retreat. Human horse riders chased the retreating trolls, turning the retreat into a rout. Thousands of Trolls were killed; those who escaped were too few to have any chance of launching another assault on the alliance for all foreseeable future.
The next day the victorious army marched back to Stormwind, where they were greeted by cheers and celebration, the rumor of their victory had already reached the city a day earlier, and the victory party had quickly been organized. Loran was celebrated like a hero, but nobody was honoured more than Barlan, though he and Durin left for Dunhammer a few days later. Loran had offered him a place as a captain in the army, but Barlan had declined; according to himself he had gotten more than enough adventures to last for quite some years.
THE END.....? |
