Another fanfiction story no one on this site will read

[JimPaladin]

Ah yes, I wrote another gay (I MEAN COOL) fan fiction based on the events just prior to the actual siege of Orgrimmar and how some of the citizens dealt with it, and how some of the events that helped shape it lead to be.

I was just interested in how the actual citizens and how everything in general was going with Orgrimmar just days before the actual siege. How everyone would have acted, how stuff would have happened, etc... So I wrote a short story about it. Cool, right?

Well, anyways, ignoring the fact no one on this website will end up ever reading this because it's not just a 2 paragraph long bio about how my Death Knight OC is a rebel killer without a cause; I present to you, my story.

I may edit it here and there and fix any typos I find, but right now I'm -fairly- happy with it, so I doubt I'll change anything.

Here it is!!!!1!!!!


"City under Siege"

a novella

By: Jimpaladin grade 4, Mrs. Swanson's class


-------------------------------------


The valley was filled with the thundering, reverbing waves of sound as the heralds of the Warsong awoke the city with their blasting horns, riding through the packed-dirt streets on their wolf mounts.

One blast in unison, and then another. And another.

From inside one of the dim, squat homes that were sprung up from the sides of the roads; a small leather pouch of bolts were actually rattled off of their wooden shelf and fell to the floor, as the home’s occupant twisted and turned in his dirty bed.

Another blow of horn. The fifth and final one. Better get up.

Kazza moaned and forced himself to get up, pushing his small body out of his bed. Sharp-nailed toes landed on cold stone floor as Kazza shivered. He kept forgetting his small hovel no longer had heat to it, ever since the Orcs had taken all of the fire wood in the entire city for themselves.

He still wanted to know just why it got so cold in Durotar during the night, but so blisteringly hot during the day; but that was something he could ponder over another time, as he quickly threw on a new pair of clothes that were just as dirty as the ones he’d taken off. He had only moments to spare to make the morning inspection, and he knew full well what would happen to him if he missed it.

Dressing and quickly eating a few raw eggs- the last two in his Kor’kron-mandated rations- he bound out of his home as quickly as possible, and lined up at the side of the street along with the other citizens of Orgrimmar.

The sun rose quick in Durotar. Something else Kazza could wonder about another day, as the thin ray of light rose above the red, rocky hills and shone directly in his eyes. He squinted for a few moments, but then the crack of hand against face and the yelp of pain that sounded somewhere down the line snapped him out of it immediately.

“You will not make faces during inspection, whelp! Get back in line and shape up, or you’ll be seeing what the inside of your throat looks like!”


A little sun in his eyes wouldn’t hurt him. At least nowhere near as much as the Kor’kron would.

Around him, the city was awake with bustle as Kor’kron orcs and grunts toiled and soldiers and overseers trained and drilled and fought. The city hadn’t ever truly slept in years, ever since Garrosh had taken command. All through the night you could hardly get to sleep as the noise of construction and combat and the odd, wailing cries of tortured prisoners relentlessly assaulted you.

But now, things were even worse. It was as if the orcs were preparing for war. The city was becoming more fortified than ever, rations were being cut shorter and shorter and the Kor’kron seemed to be mad with power and hungry with bloodlust. Through the corner of his eye, Kazza looked towards the massive wall of Orgrimmar’s front gates. No. It wasn’t war they were preparing for, Kazza decided. It felt more like the orcs were expecting to be attacked.

As if they were expecting to be sieged.

Kazza’s attention was snapped back to him once again as he heard voices that grew louder and closer each moment. The Kor’kron overseer was getting close, and it was almost Kazza’s turn.

“State your name.” came the commanding, gruff voice of the overseer.

“Gaxo Bunkblaster.” A second, much smaller and meeker voice retorted in steady, even tone.

“What will you be doing to serve the Warchief today?” the overseer commanded again.

“I will be selling my wares at my shop.”

The overseer barked.

“Not today, goblin!”

A few heads in the line turned towards the outburst. Kazza knew better, and kept his gaze straight and unwavering.

Gaxo opened his mouth to retort but found it suddenly occupied with orc fist. Blood and chips of teeth flew everywhere as the goblin was slammed to the ground.

“You will not speak unless spoken to!” the overseer raged.

The goblin began picking himself up, but after a few seconds, one of the Kor’kron guards stepped in to pull him to his feet. With blood drenched down the goblin’s boney chin, the overseer continued.

“The Warchief no longer has need for your brand of service. No longer shall you sit comfortably, selling off your horded items to the Warchief’s hands. No longer shall you place yourself above our Warchief. No longer shall you be a liability to the wellship of our Horde!”

Gaxo simply stood, his eyes locked on the overseer.

“From now on, you shall serve the Horde with manual labor. Your wares will be stripped to serve the glory of the Horde.”

Gaxo made the biggest mistake of his life when he protested.

Smearing some of the blood off his face with the back of his hand, he shouted, “What? But those are mine! You ca-“

The overseer cut off the protesting with a shocking, throat-scrapping shout that made everyone in the line flinch- regardless of their proximity to the outburst. Then, Kazza heard the sick sound of metal against flesh. It was like the sound of an axe sinking into a wet log.

With another scream the overseer proclaimed, “Those who do not serve the Horde without question are against it! Those who are against it- die!”

The overseer turned back to the line, his chest heaving violently as he drew in and out breath in gasps. “And for those of you who like to break attention in line, we have special places for you, too!”

The overseer pointed out each of those who had turned their heads to look at the prior outburst, and each of them was pulled out of line by the Kor’kron.

“Manual labor in the new sector! Put these wretches on the lava-lines!”

With that, the small handful were carted out of the Valley of Strength and back, deep into Orgrimmar to the mysterious “new sector” that the Kor’kron kept mentioning. Kazza, like everyone else, wondered what the new area could possibly be; but he had no intentions of ever finding out first hand.

Kazza sensed that the next few people between him and the shopkeeper, who was currently being drug off, leaving a deep crimson streak on the orange dirt in a path behind him, had just been ‘reassigned’, and he was next.

Kazza stood up as tall as he could. Here it comes.

The overseer stepped before him, the armored orc towering tall and blocking out the ray of burning sun. Looking down at him with a gaze like a poised axe, ready to drop, the overseer demanded; “State your name.”

“Kazza Kankzap.” Kazza responded back, in his best bravado. The overseer was clearly unimpressed, but his tone seemed to lessen somewhat at the solider-like reply to his command.

“What will you be doing be doing to serve the Warchief today?” the overseer asked through his teeth.

Kazza worked at mechanic shop in Orgrimmar. Or at least, he did until just now.

“I will be doing whatever it is I am commanded to do by the Kor’kron.” Kazza replied back, trying his best to stop any quivering in his voice.

The overseer was silent for a few moments, his thick, greyed brows raised inquisitively for a few moments. Kazza kept his expression solid, but wondered frantically in the back of his brain if he had chosen the wrong words.

Suddenly, the overseer laughed. Guffawing and slapping a heavy hand across his broad chest, he turned his thick neck towards the Kor’kron guards. “Well well, boys. Looks like one of them finally got it through his head!”

The overseer turned his head back to Kazza, and laughed again.

And then he kicked Kazza in the stomach.

Kazza fell to one knee as the boot struck him in his soft stomach, his lungs on sudden fire as the air was forced immediately from them. His gut couldn’t tell which end it wanted expel out of Kazza. A small bead of tear formed in Kazza’s eye, but he kept his expression as unwavering as possible.

He stood up tall again, the back of his tongue flecked with what he could swear tasted like blood.

The orc scowled in thought. “Assist the gate crews with whatever they need.” He said, with what Kazza might have thought could be a little bit of respect. Who says change had to be such a bad thing?

The overseer moved away from Kazza and addressed the next in line. After another hour or so, the overseer sounded a horn that signaled they were dismissed, and were to move onto whatever tasks they were set to do.

Kor’kron eyes followed Kazza as he staggered slightly as he began to head towards the gates of the city, daring the goblin to fall down or cease walking. They had yet to spill blood today.

To his thankful credit, Kazza managed to walk off the pain, which thankfully by now had subsided to deep aches in his stomach and back. He’d live. Hopefully.

He made his way down the road to the gates, where a small team of Orcs and Goblins were working. A second Kor’kron overseer was there, bellowing commands and cracking bones where need be.

Kazza approached.

The overseer slammed her axe deep into the dirt before Kazza’s feet. Her eyes were bloodshot to the point of being completely red, and her tusks were completely yellowed. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days; and smelled even worse.

“What do you want?” she screamed as she brandished her axe again, the caked dirt falling off of it.

“I was just assigned to assist the gate crew. Tell me where I am needed.” Kazza blurted, then shut his mouth, biting the inside of his lip hard enough that his pointed teeth drew blood. He had just made a mistake.

“You do not command me, goblin!” the overseer cried, spittle shooting from her mouth. She raised her axe.

Kazza’s ears dropped. And he had done so well just before.

Suddenly, before the overseer could swing, a yelping cry sounded out from somewhere on the wall. Both goblin and overseer turned to watch the shape of a falling goblin plummet from the wall, his footing coming lose.

The cry was cut off by the crunch and snap of body as he landed on the hard earth below.

The overseer’s expression seemed to lighten, and she smirked, her teeth glossed with grime and blood; though Kazza had no guess as to whether it was her own blood or not, and she gazed down at Kazza.

“Seems we having an opening actually.”

Kazza did his best to give a believable salute.

Kazza entered the inside of the wall via a small service door and walked his way up the iron steps, reaching his new post. Thankfully he had, as any self-respecting goblin had, experience with basic metal working. Experience he’d need to put into practice.

Kazza stopped his ascent about mid-way up the wall as he arrived at his designated spot. With a deep breath, he plunged himself out of the small port-hole and out onto the side of the wall, his feet finding purchase on the small, thin rods of metal that stuck out to serve as primitive footholds for those working on the wall.

His mind shot back to watching the previous worker fall off the wall to his death, and Kazza’s fingers gripped the hand-hold rods so tight his knuckles went numb. He made his way out as fast as he could, seeing where the work had been left off for him.

The walls, ever since the great fire a few years back, had been plated in metal but now the Kor’kron were plating them in metal again. Seemed redundant to Kazza, but he smartly kept his mouth closed as he hunkered into the wall, awaiting the ground team to raise him a sheet of black iron to position and bolt into the wall.

He began his work as the iron was pulleyed up to him, placing the thick, heavy bolts stored in his leather working smock’s pouches into the bolt holes, and using a wrench tool to secure them into place, holding the iron sheet onto the wall and fortifying it.

Kazza moved his feet step-by-step across the footholds, keeping one hand on a handhold at all times, and using the other to place in and then screw down each bolt.

Suddenly, with a dropping jolt that seemed to throw Kazza completely off his balance, his foot dropped as it failed to find a hold. Kazza caught himself, but the iron sheet slapped against the wall and rattled hard like a thick gong. He’d almost made the same mistake his predecessor had made.

Pulling himself back up against the wall with one hand and using the other to push the sheet of iron against the wall, to help stop it from shaking, Kazza resumed his work. The shaking iron vibrated and jarred his arm and it ached already from all the strain, but Kazza ignored the throbs from his arm, stomach and head and continued working, the hot Durotar sun baking down on his dirty black hair.

It was sunset went work had finally been called off. It was too dark to see and the Kor’kron couldn’t risk losing too many workers to accidents. Kazza hadn’t worked that hard in his life, and he was happy, if not tired and worn out beyond belief, to be back down on solid ground again.

His legs ached and burned, like pieces of wet bread and each step hurt, but he couldn’t help but be at least a little proud of the work he’d done. First day on the job and he’d laid more sheets than anyone else. Not that the Kor’kron would reward him or anything. Or let him leave the city.

Kazza walked wearily back down the dirt streets of Orgrimmar, intent on getting back to him small home. The sun had set almost completely now and lazy, orange dusk was turning into cool, dim night as the torches and bonfires of the city were lit to life. The buildings and constructs of the Kor’kron cast short, sick shadows in the light of the fires. The sharp metal spires and jagged points of buildings and siege fortifications produced deep, black shadows that waited in the darkness on the edges of buildings like the coiled legs of spiders, poised to strike at anyone who wandered too close.

Many of the cities inhabitants were making their way back to homes, but a good many more were still out in the dirt fields and training grounds, fighting and drilling and screaming and shouting. Kazza shook his head.

“Hey, Kazza!” come a voice suddenly. Kazza turned his head and laid his eyes on the warm glow of the inn, one of the only buildings relatively untouched by Kor’kron fortification. Outside of it, standing in the doorway, was the slim figure of a female goblin, waving to him. “Come on in!” she called out again.

He didn’t normally socialize, but he also didn’t normally live at the harsh discretion of Kor’kron orcs. Plus the female was pretty. So he could make an exception this once.

With a weary smirk, Kazza walked down to the inn, meeting with the female.

“Where’d they have you today?” she asked, her smiling face turning to inquisitive worry.

“Up on the wall, didn’t you see me?” Kazza said dryly, entering into the inn with his friend.

She shrugged. “They had me over in the troll valley today. They’re tearing everything down, there.”

Kazza’s brows picked up. “The Valley of Spirits? Really? What happened to all the trolls?”

His friend shrugged again. “I don’t know. There’s none left over there, though. It was just us and some overseers.”

Kazza swallowed. He knew the trolls were getting it bad, but he had no idea they were suddenly missing from the city. Had they all left? No one was allowed outside the city in weeks. Had the Kor’kron done away with them all? Were they all taken to the new sector?

Kazza shook his head clear of all the thoughts. Forget about trolls; he had himself to worry about.

Kazza sat at a small table in the inn with his friend, joining a few more goblins and an orc.

“Get us another drink over here!” the female shouted.

“Got it, Zassie.” Came a reply from behind the bar.

Kazza pulled himself up to the table. “Hey! If it isn’t the wall climber himself!” a voice jibbed at Kazza.

Kazza let a hand fall to the table. “Shut your mouth, Razk.” He added. “What did they have you doing today, anyways?”

Razk belched. “I’m working with this Blackfuse guy.”

“Blackfuse?” Kazza asked as the bartender delivered a stein of frothing, warm ale to the table.

“Yeah.” Razk said, his wooden stool creaking as he sat back in it. “He’s some big-shot who’s all good on Garrosh or something. Has us building all kinds of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Kazza asked, sipping from the stein.

At this, Razk flared a nostril and swallowed. “Can’t really say, to be honest. Kor’kron order.”

They all left it at that.

“Well what about you, Galthuk?” Kazza asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

The orc grunted. “They took away my shop.”

The goblins all nodded.

“Now they are making me fight.” The orc growled through his teeth. “I do not like what is going on.”

“Seems all the orcs are being trained to fight. I only see a few grunts working here and there.” Zassie said, scratching idly at the wood tabletop with her fingernails.

The table was silent again for a moment, until Razk spoke up again.

“The hell do you think this is all for? Garrosh was never like this before.”

They were silent again.

“The Alliance isn’t going to attack or something, is it? We’d be told if that’s what was happening, right?” Razk questioned again.

No one answered, but Kazza spoke again. “Wonder what happened to Vol’jin and the trolls.”

Zassie leaned in close to the table, and the three around her did the same. “They say he’s rebelling against Garrosh. I heard some of the Kor’kron talking the other day, about Razor Hill.”

“Razor Hill?” Kazza asked.

“I guess the trolls and tauren have taken it over. They say they’ll attack soon.”

“Attack? Them? Us?” Razk shouted. The entire inn seemed to stop in place as everyone stared at the outbursted goblin. Razk just smiled in embarrassment and tucked his head down. A few moments later and the inn returned to normal.

“Why would they attack us?” Razk asked again, this time in a forcibly quiet whisper.

Zassie shrugged. “I don’t know. But the Kor’kron seem to think it’s going to happen.”

“What happened to the elves and zombies?” Kazza asked.

Razk answered that one. “The elves got out of the city weeks ago. I haven’t seen a forsaken in months.”

Galthuk grunted in agreeance.

Suddenly, their table was shaken by a foot slamming into it, sending steins of ale all over the place, the small candle burning in the middle of the table was tossed off, the tiny flame snuffing out in the wet ale.

“I could not help but overhear some of your conversation” spat a voice.

“We are not speaking to you, Thathung.” Galthuk growled.

Thathung spat onto the ground of the inn. “I didn’t ask you for permission to speak, feeble one. Go back to your shop desk, or are you too weak to even do that?”

Galthuk’s throat rumbled with a second, deeper growl, but the orc said no more.

“Everybody in this inn is a dog.” Thathung said, pushing the table away further with his foot, before slamming it down onto the puddles of ale below him with a splash. “You all drink when you should be serving the Horde. The Warchief is much too lenient on you.”

At this, Thathung kicked the table, snapping it into two pieces. “Weak dogs.” He spat again.

“Only those who create conflict are weak.” Galthuk spat back.

At this, Thathung went berserk. He kicked the other orc in the face, sending him spinning to the floor, a thick trickle of blood seeping from his lip.

“How dare you deem anything our Warchief does as “weak”. It is not for dirt like you to decide what is weak and what is power!”

Galthuk picked himself back up to his knees, and Zassie stepped in to try helping the hulking orc up the rest of the way.

“Do not aid him, goblin. If he is worthy of being an orc, he will help himself up.”

Zassie turned on her foot, and pushed the knees of the aggressive orc away. “Why don’t you just leave us alone?” she demanded.

Thathung opened his mouth to speak as he drew his fist back, but was stopped as a huge, powerful hand gripped his drawn back fist. “Yes, perhaps you should leave.”

Gamon let go of the orc as the orc stepped back. With the tauren, suddenly everyone in the inn was standing, looking towards the orc. Even Kazza felt good, standing up to the Kor’kron. He had to admit, outnumbering someone else felt pretty empowering.

“Leave.” Galthuk said, blood slowly sliding down his chin and neck.

Thathung looked as if he wanted to say more, but with a snarl, turned and immediately left. The patrons and owners of inn shared a silent moment of triumph before all of them returned to drinking and talking.

“You alright, big guy?” Razk asked, looking up at Galthuk.

Galthuk slid a fat tongue over his lip, lapping at his blood. For a moment he seemed to simply sit there, absorbing the situation that had just happened. “None of us are alright.” He finally said.

The four stared down at the floor, looking over the ruined table and spilt drinks.

Gryshka, the innkeeper, stepped up to them. “I apologize for that.” She said.

Kazza threw up a hand. “No need to apologize.”

“We have no more tables, but let me get you all fresh drinks.”

The group nodded and thanked her and helped pick up the ruined table bit and throw them outside of the inn, to be used as bonfire kindle.

“We gotta get out of here.” Razk said suddenly.

“Aye, we do.” Came a new voice. The group turned and saw Gamon standing over them. “But for now, let’s drink in celebration of a night without Kor’kron.”

The new drinks had arrived, and Galthuk was the first to take a mug and raise it. “To a night without Kor’kron!” he proclaimed.

The other two goblins followed suit, and suddenly everyone in the inn was raising a mug or fist in proclamation. Kazza couldn’t help but join in.

After that, they all had a night of good laughter and talk; the realization that their actions for the night would carry consequences was something everyone kept at the very back of their minds.

***

Thathung trudged out of the inn, his mind already set on what he would do next. He walked across the valley, reaching the main building that was positioned in the middle of the large valley. He saluted the Kor’kron honorguards that stood out front, being issued in as part of the Kor’kron.

He walked the short, rounded hallway up into the main room and bowed before the two imposing figures before him.

“Earthbreaker, Wavebinder.” He saluted.

The first of the two, a male, spoke. “What is it you beckon the hands of the Warchief with?”

Thathung swallowed deeply. The orc was more than a little intimidated by disturbing the two Shaman, and did not want to waste their time. He spoke quickly. “It is a matter of open betrayal and insult to the Warchief!”

The shaman exchanged looks, and the female asked with angered concern, “Tell us, where have you found this?”

“You best not be making things up, or else your blood will paint the gates.” The male added, his voice a low, serious growl.

“It is real, I give you my word.” Thathung said, bowing again. Keeping his bow, he continued, “It is the inn. They converge there like insects, doubting the Warchief and slacking off over their drinks.”

“Hmm.” Grumbled the male.

“We shall investigate these matters.” The female spoke again. “Go now, and know that you shall be rewarded if we find traces of disloyalty to the Warchief.”

Thathung didn’t even need to be told what would happen if they did not.

As he walked out into the deep night, he smiled. Eyeing the small, softly glowing inn, he imagined it burning to the ground, its patrons impaled on spikes. It was good to be a true orc.

***

The next morning, Kazza awoke not to the familiar sounds of horns, but to shouts and struggle.

Kazza woke, peering out of the iron-barred windows of his small home. Something was happening down the road, at the inn. He dared to step out and look. It wasn’t the usual skirmishing and sparring the Kor’kron trainees did. This was violent, and loud.

There, down the road, he saw the large figure of a tauren brawling with a group of orcs. He couldn’t help but join the small crowd gathering around to watch.

It was Gamon, the tauren, swinging and dodging and fighting against the Kor’kron orcs. Kazza couldn’t believe his eyes. Gamon, like all tauren, was large and innately powerful but he had never seen the timid, quiet Gamon move or fight like this before.

Sweat began running down the back of his head, and not just because of the morning heat. He wondered if one of them, any of them, should help the tauren.

One of the Kor’kron slammed his mace down on Gamon’s head. Gamon reeled back slightly, but caught himself, and returned a slam with his fist to the orc’s face that exploded in a spurt of crimson blood and left the attacker on the ground, doing an auspiciously little amount of movement.

A cheer here and there went up from the gathered crowd and Kazza’s ears sank. He didn’t even want to think what the punishment for the cheers would be. Gamon had sent three more orcs to the ground before eventually the Kor’kron overpowered him, wrapping his neck and arms in chain.

The remained Kor’kron kicked and beat at the downed tauren, until the inspection overseer stepped in to pull them off. Giving the tauren a few kicks of his own, the overseer had the chains attached to wolves, that pulled the beaten Gamon off, down the road to whatever fate was in store for him.

Then, they were made to line up.

Kazza saw none of the innkeepers or barkeepers, but he also didn’t look for long as he rushed to line up for inspection.

It was pretty uneventful; until the overseer got to Kazza.

Only this time, it was a different overseer.

Thathung was grinning wide and viciously down at Kazza. Kazza didn’t even notice, he was too zoned out in his own thinking to even realize that the same orc from before was approaching him.

“State your name.” he said, with gleeful gruffness.

“Kazza. Kankzap.” Kazza managed to blurt out.

“And what will you be doing to serve the Warchief today?” Thathung asked.

“I will-“ Kazza began, but was stopped.

“Actually.” Thathung said, scratching his neck. “I think I recall you from somewhere, goblin.”

Kazza’s mouth shut tight. He knew, of course, that Thathung knew who he was. Kazza said nothing.

“Tell me, goblin. Where were you the night before?” Thathung demanded.

Kazza simply drew in a large, slow breath as his chest shook. He wished he could just disappear. His temples throbbed, his eyes twitched.

Thathung barked. “Where were you the night before!”

“The inn.” Kazza said quietly.

“The inn?” Thathung said, with fake surprise.

“Yes sir.” Kazza said, his gaze falling to the ground.

Thathung laughed. “You wouldn’t have happened to be part of the treasonous ilk, would you?”

“No sir.” Kazza lied.

“I believe a few of your friends were. But don’t worry, they’ll be put to good use in the new sector.”

Kazza bit the inside of his lip again. He thought he might have even bitten it all the way through.

“Have you ever wondered what the new sector is?” Thathung asked.

“I think we all have.” Kazza couldn’t help but quip. He was getting over his fear and becoming brashly accepting of whatever was about to happen to him. At least he’d see Zassie and Razk again. If they were even still alive.

Thathung chuckled. “Well keep wondering, pup. The wall calls.” Then, he turned, and continued the inspection.

Kazza almost fainted.

***

Kazza was lucky to be recruited to the wall so near completion. They managed to finish the whole inner-city wall by late afternoon. The overseer even allowed them a short few moments to relish and congratulate their work before barking more orders at them.

Kazza stood, waiting for his new commands. When all the construction jobs were called and goblins moved here and there to their new tasks, Kazza was left alone. It was an incredibly scary feeling.

The overseer eyed him for a moment before realizing he wasn’t officially on her roster, as he was a spur-of-the-moment replacement. She snorted out her nose. “Go to the taskmaster, ask him what to do. Just get out of my sight, weakling.”

Kazza nodded and turned to immediately obey. He rolled his eyes as soon as he was away from the overseer. It was always “weakling” this, or “whelp” that with these orcs. He’d never pretend to understand.

He approached the taskmaster, an aged, but angry looking orc.

“What’s that?” the taskmaster growled at Kazza as he approached.

“I need a new job, sir.” Kazza said, saluting.

“What?” the taskmaster said, his nostrils flaring and his eyes going wild.

Kazza sighed inside himself, and explained. “I was working on the wall. We got done with that and I didn’t have a new task, so I was sent here to you.”

At this the orc seemed to calm down. Slightly. “Oh.” He muttered.

The orc’s body clearly outlived his brain, Kazza thought.

“Well, ehm. Go assist the shaman.” The taskmaster said, before turning and simply walking away.

“Very specific orders.” Kazza let himself mumble.

Kazza slowly approached a group of shaman who were talking and summoning clouds of dust that looked much darker than any normal cloud of dirt would have.

“Excuse me.” He said.

The shaman all turned to him immediately, teeth-exposing scowls on their faces.

A male approached him. “What do you bother us for, goblin?”

Kazza stood upright. “I was told by the taskmaster to assist you.”

The male spat on Kazza’s chest. “We do not need help, especially from some goblin. We are the true shaman! We need no help, we take what we need, and that is all!”

Kazza’s interest was piqued. “True shaman?” he asked.

The orc’s expression suddenly went blank for a moment as he was taken offguard by the question. It quickly turned back to a visage of anger and hatred. “Yes, goblin! True shaman!”

Kazza dug his toes into the dirt. He’d risk another question. “What makes you different from any other shaman?”

The orc was clearly caught up between lowering himself to speak to a goblin and explaining away his pride as a shaman. After a few awkward moments, he began to explain himself as the other shaman gathered around.

“This world belongs to us. To the Horde.” He began. “To the orcs.” Kazza said nothing. “The elements are no different.”

Kazza nodded. “I… see.” He said.

“You see nothing, fool!” the orc snapped. “The elements heed only when they decide to heed, but that is not the way of our world! We are the orcs, we command, others listen!”

Kazza strained to not roll his eyes again. He regretted asking.


“We have learned to control the elements, and bend them properly to our will, just as we have bent your kind, goblin.” Kazza said nothing, again. “No more do we beg and ask. We take. We control.”

The orcs around the shaman laughed and cheered in agreeance.

Kazza swallowed again. “So… you have become like the warlocks?”

Kazza expected to be ripped to pieces right there, but the shaman all simply stood, taken aback. They were silent. One of them ruffled their brows, and said, “No. Nothing like warlocks, fool! How dare you even accuse us of that!” but there was little confidence behind the words.

Kazza simply walked away, wondering if each step would be his last as he left the orcs. He simply went home, and laid in his bed. Kor’kron be damned.

***

There were no horns the next morning. No Kor’kron inspections. In fact, there was nothing. The valley was empty. Kazza walked out and saw a few goblins and orcs wandering around the streets, confused but happy at the sudden turn of events.

Kazza didn’t think it would be wise to venture out into the city at all.

The day rolled on, and as noon set in, there was still nothing. A good number of people were out, now, simply doing their own things across the city. Kazza was reminded he had no friends to go off and see.

Had the orcs left the city, for some reason? Or were they all gathered in this new ‘sector’? Was it safe to go out? Should he just stay in?

Another hour passed. Kazza stepped outside.

He saw another goblin walking by, and called out. “Hey, where are the orcs? Where are the Kor’kron?”

The goblin turned, and smiled with a shrug. “Beats me, pal. But I’m making smart and getting out of this hellhole while I can. You should do the same.”

Kazza opened his mouth to reply- but was cut off by the sudden sounding of one of the most horrible noises he had ever heard before.

From nowhere, with no warning, came a droning, deep, buzzing sound. It filled the whole valley, ringing off the smooth rounded stones and being thrown back onto those within, magnified twice fold.

And then, the sun blacked out.

At least, that’s what it seemed to be at first. Kazza looked up and saw a sight that was equally as- if not even more so than- horrifying as the sound.

Hundreds, possibly thousands of… creatures filled the air. Their sick, insect-like bodies carried aloft by black, flickering wings. Long, gross limbs topped with sharp, violent pincers and claws dangled down as the creatures flew.

Suddenly, a militarized group of Kor’kron rode out from one of the paths that lead deeper into the city, riding out into the middle of the valley to meet the creatures as they landed.

Orc charged against monster and any of the bystanders caught in the way became mowed down in seconds. The orcs fighting didn’t stand much chance, either.

The creatures, whatever they were, instantly overpowered the orcs, cutting and slicing and biting and ripping them to pieces. Limbs and blood were everywhere and only here and there did one of the creatures fall upon a pile of dead orc.

Kazza heard a blood-chilling screech as the goblin he was just speaking too was suddenly pounced on by one of the creatures, the screech finally silenced by the disgusted clench of insect mandible.

Kazza slowly walked back into his house and shut the door.

A few minutes of carnage and prayer later, and the fighting seemed to stop. Kazza peered out his window, and looked towards the center of the valley.

What little orcs remained had obviously surrendered, but the monstrous creatures seemed to stop the attack. In the center, Kazza watched. An orc seemed to be speaking to one of the creatures, but Kazza couldn’t make out the words.

Kazza didn’t know what had been coming over him recently. Perhaps it was the fact he simply became pushed too far, and no longer truly cared what would happen to him. Perhaps he knew he had lost, and this was his way of dealing with it. Whatever the case, Kazza soon found himself creeping up along one of the buildings, straining his large ears to hear the words.

The creature spoke in understandable words, albeit with plenty of strange, alien snaps and growls mixed in with the speech.

“Just tell us where it is. We do not care to kill you if you harbor it safely.” The creature spoke.

“I have told you, bug, the Warchief has told us none are allowed in the Underhold! Not even you!”

“Underhold?” Kazza thought. Is that the new sector? Could his friends be there?

Then, Kazza watched as the orc was literally ripped into pieces in all of a matter of moments by the creature. “We will slaughter and rip all of you. It does not matter to me.”

Then a second orc stepped up. Kazza couldn’t see who it was, but the voice gave it away.

“We will direct you to the Underhold and to the Warchief.” Thathung said. “Just call off the attack on the city.”

“It is already done.” The creature said, chattering as he spoke. “Clean your dead up and refortify the city. No one shall breach this ‘Underhold’.”

Thathung nodded. “Agreed.”

With that, the creatures all flew back up into the sky, heading towards what Kazza thought looked like the area where the cleft would be. Is that were the new sector is?

In a just a few minutes, Kor’kron had re-established the area and Thathung was shouting commands. The goblins- those who weren’t dead- were being ordered to start cleaning up. Kazza knew this was his chance.

He snuck slowly and carefully away from the valley, heading down the path to the drag, and into the cleft. He was lucky in that the Kor’kron seemed to be very scattered at the moment, and most of the path was totally clear. That was, until he saw two incredibly powerful looking Shaman coming up the path, riding on wolves that were at least five times the size of Kazza himself.

He jumped silently behind a stack of crates.

“What were those things, Haromm?” a female voice asked.

With a grumble, a male answered, “Mantid. From Pandaria.”

“What are they doing here?” the female asked.

“Protecting whatever the Warchief unleashed, I guess.”

“Are they allies, then?”

“Probably not. But they’ll rip us to pieces if we deny their presence. So for now, we have no choice, Kardris.”

“What of Thrall and Saurfang?”

Kazza’s eyes shot wide. Thrall was here? In the city?

“Nazgrim allowed them entrance.”

Kardris growled. “He should be punished.”

“It matters not. The Warchief will stop them. Not even Thrall can defeat what Garrosh has become. Leave that fool Nazgrim’s fate up to whatever attacker fells him.”

Kazza swallowed another lump. Thrall was in the city, and apparently heading for Garrosh. His fingers sunk into the dirt. Then perhaps getting to the Underhold would be even easier.

Suddenly, the howl of a wolf made Kazza grow stiff.

“What is it?” Kardris asked. “What do you smell, Bloodclaw?”

Kazza was sweating hard now. He’d been discovered. He could hear the wolf bark and howl and scratch and lead its orc master to the smell.

Kazza was almost crying. Biting his lip over and over, he had the presence of mind to stop himself. The hounds would definitely smell the blood if he drew it.

Kazza’s head felt like it was under a vice grip of pressure. He heard Kardris exclaim out, “We’ve found you!”

He was ready to jump out and throw his hands up, explaining he was only hiding from the mantid, hoping he’d be spared- until he heard a troll cry out as the wolf bit into his leg and drug him out of hiding.

“A darkspear dog? How have you remained hidden for so long?” Kardris demanded.

The troll cursed in his native tongue, but said nothing to the orcs. Kazza felt his heart beat to the point of almost exploding, but remained silent and hidden.

“It doesn’t matter.” Haromm said. The next thing Kazza heard was the sudden gust of sand and the troll’s muffled screams. And then nothing.

“Come, Kardris. The invaders are nearly to our shore. We must rally the forces and fortify the valley.”

Kazza waited until he could no longer hear the shaman, and then ran as fast as he could down the empty drag, not looking back once at the mangled, ripped corpse of the troll.

His next road block came rather quickly. It was Gamon, chained to a tree. The tauren was still alive, but he was badly beaten and was being whipped repeatedly by Kor’kron. But that wasn’t the worst sight.

Next to that, an orc overseer walked with one of the mantid monsters.

“The Underhold is right down this path, Kil’ruk. We are in the middle of some executions right now, I apologize for the mess.”

“I do not care.” The mantid replied. The orc stayed silent after that as the pair of them walked down into the cleft of shadows. Kazza bit the inside of his lip again. So that’s where the Underhold was.

If he could just reach it. Maybe he could still save Zassie and Razk.

Working his way around the drag, he managed to sneak to the mouth of the dark, foggy cleft. He stayed close to the wall, creeping down into it, shouts and other sounds echoing up from below. Suddenly, a felt a drip on the back of his neck.

Kazza stopped. He slowly reached a finger to the drip. What was it? It couldn’t be water.

He felt it. He drew his finger back and looked at it closely threw the dank mist. It was red. He looked slowly up.

He saw the slack, horrific face of an orc. Hung by rope on the rocks of the cleft’s ceiling. Another drop of blood fell down from the dead orc and hit Kazza under the eye. He looked all above him, and saw the same. Dozens of robed orcs were butchered and hung.

What were the orcs doing to themselves?

Kazza sighed another ragged sigh and continued on. He managed to make it down into the cleft, and saw more sights of death and violence.

Warlocks were being drug out from their shops and homes, beaten and cut and hung. Many had their hands already cut off prior to death, as if to stop them from somehow incanting spells against the orcs.

Kazza couldn’t help but let his eyes be drawn to the hangings as he worked his way around the cleft, which wasn’t a very hard endeavor thanks both to the cleft’s darkness and the fact the orcs were preoccupied with other things.

More than one warlock proudly exclaimed “For the Horde!” as they were hung, as if they were happy to die if the Horde willed it to be. Kazza shook his head again. He’d never understand orcs.

Kazza had no idea just where the Underhold would be, so he kept his eyes peeled for anything that would give him a clue to his destination. And that’s when he saw it. The opening to what he knew as Ragefire Chasm, a line of mantid and Kor’kron alike shuffling into it. That’s where the Underhold was. Kazza knew it.

He sat there for some time, listening to the cheers and sounds of death, trying to steel the nerve to go into the cavern, to breach the Underhold, the find his friends.

He thought he just might do it, until suddenly, a shout came from the circle of hanging in the center of the cleft.

“I will not burn like the rest! Face the demons you fear, traitors!”

Kazza’s eyes were drawn once again to the hangings, where an orc warlock had stabbed a Kor’kron guard through the neck.

Kazza’s ears perked up at this. Everyone in the cleft looked towards the commotion and Kor’kron rushed to subdue to warlock. This could be his chance.

Kazza assumed the warlock would just stab at any Kor’kron he could until his own death, but the warlock had bigger plans that just that.

With the spilt blood, the warlock created a summoning glyph and before any Kor’kron could stop him, summoned a terrible creature into the small cleft.

The howl it unleashed as it tore into their world sank Kazza’s heart.

Kor’kron shouted in surprise as entire groups of them were charred to ash instantly by the Doomguard, and multiple many more were crushed and smacked by hooved feet, their crumpled bodies falling yards away.

The Kor’kron at the mouth of the cavern had parted, some of them fleeing into the cavern as others charged the demon, only the fall among the dead.

“Get Arc Weavers out here now! Get this demon under control and kill that warlock!” a commander bellowed before he too was engulfed in demonic flame, Kor’kron scrambling to fulfill the late commander’s orders.

This was his chance. He could make it into the cavern. Kazza wanted to move, but he couldn’t.

He’d come this far. He could go a little further. Right?

The doomguard wailed and screamed with glee as it killed Kor’kron left and right. Kazza knew if he went out there, he’d be no different.

He thought of his friends. Would they be okay?

Of course not. They’d die if he left them.

Maybe they’re already dead?

Could he just leave them?

Would he just leave them?

He dug his toes into the dirt again. The city’s side exit was just a few roads away. He could escape into the barrens.

But the cavern was right there.

Kazza’s chest was raising and falling rapidly, and he gave no more careful thought to keep his breaths quiet. Was he really too afraid to continue? Was he really considering just leaving now?

He thought of Zassie. He thought of Razk. He thought of Galthuk. He imagined all the faces of the inn that night, as they stood together against Thathung.

He thought of how he stood up to the orcs, how he mouthed off the shaman. He was so mindlessly brave then, why not now? Was it because he was stopping to think about it? He’d just followed his gut instincts before; perhaps he was just stupid rather than brave.

His forehead was drenched with sweat. His nose and mouth were completely dry, his vision cloudy. What was he going to do?

What was he going to do?

As if almost to answer; a bloody, broken Kor’kron orc suddenly fell in front him, the orc’s face twisted and stiff in death.

Gritting his teeth, Kazza closed his eyes tight and burst from his hiding spot, running. His feet guiding him.

***
Two days later

Kazza sat on the hilltop, as night set across the land. Down below, he watched as the tiny, far-away figures of sieger and besieged fought amongst each other. He sighed, as his fire began to die down.

He’d hoped the fighting wouldn’t last so long, but it showed no sign of slowing down, even after days of going at it.

He threw a few more sticks onto the dying embers, and blew on them to rekindle a flame.

But that did not matter. The Kor’kron could not last forever. Soon, they would lose and the city would be retaken. And he would wait there as long as it took until then.

Then, Kazza thought, as his gut wrenched, maybe he’d hopefully be able to explain to his friends why he was too afraid to find them over a round of drinks at the inn.

- - - Updated - - -

Also, I just noticed the forum destroyed all my editing such as italics and tabs. Whoops honk honk honk honk

[ImportantLoreInformation]

Amazing story. Can't believe no one else has commented yet. You should be hired to Blizzard and Chris Metzan should make you the new king of Blizzard.

[Ejmis]

It's really good! Much detail and fantastic storytelling! This should be a short-story on their forum!