Part V
Birds of a FetterAnchor's Aweigh
Azgala
A.W.O.L.
Bloodsail Brick
Friend or Fetter
Pining for Home
Flight of the Tauren
Elwynn Forest
Three Against One
Juju
First Aid
Birds of a Fetter
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Part V
Episode 1: Birds of a Fetter
In the early morning, Molthor was dressed in fine, leather armor. It was dark, skirt-like, and very well cared-for. He carried his staff, a small bedroll on his pack, and a one-handed axe on his belt. His face was still painted and his expression was still grim, but he did not look, perhaps, quite as angry as he had.
He explained that he had a small rowboat which would take us to shore. From there, he wished to trek up the center of Stranglethorn Vale, to Duskwood, and the nations of man. I thought this was insane.
The journey would be difficult enough, but we would need to minimize how long we were in human territory, if we hoped to succeed. All it would take is being spotted by a single patrol or villager. If they suspected an invasion, the Alliance could mobilize an incredible number of men to scour the countryside looking for us.
Even though it took us in the wrong direction, I knew that we would need to travel South, to the port city of Grom'gol, or possibly even Booty Bay. We would need supplies, and we would need to book passage on a real ship. The longer we travelled by ocean, the less time we would spend on enemy land.
Despite Molthor's passion and his desire to do rather than wait, he understood the danger we faced, and I was able to dissuade him from a "frontal assault".
The next couple of weeks were painful for us both. However, in Grom'gol I was able to obtain not only a compass, some rope, and a small shovel, but I was able to purchase -- at great expense -- some fairly detailed maps of Stranglethorn Vale, Duskwood, Westfall, and even Elwynn Forest. I had heard that there are some human settlements in the Redridge Mountains as well, but if our travels took us that far, then we would just have to hope that the spirits would help us, because it was clear that no one in Grom'gol could.
According to the maps, there were no human settlements in Stranglethorn Vale, apart from a few, small, military outposts. North of Stranglethorn lay Duskwood. Duskwood used to be populated entirely by humans, but it fell hard in the third war, and with the exception of the shrinking town of Darkshire, the Scourge controlled the majority of the country.
That left Westfall and the Elwynn Forest, to the West and North of Duskwood. The majority of humanity lived in these two countries, and so one of them would be our most likely destination.
I reasoned that we should sail North, along the western coast of the Eastern Kingdoms. If Molthor could use the mojo from aboard a ship, then he could sense the direction multiple times during the journey, and we could mark lines on the map to record his "readings".
I didn't know much about spirits and magic, but I figured that if we drew enough lines on the map, we could look for them to intersect, and then plan a route. My people use this same trick to locate the smoke from forest fires, and to plot our migrations around them.
We spent a few days in Grom'gol. Although I didn't meet any travelers headed to Durotar, for a small fee, Innkeeper Thulbek wrote a note for me that he would send on the next zeppelin to Orgrimmar. I had him tell Kaja that I was well, enjoying the jungle, and that my journey would take me next to Booty Bay, so I could secure further passage North. I was intentionally vague as to where we would be headed. It would be a dangerous voyage and I didn't want her to worry any more than she already did.
We chartered another fishing boat; this time to the very southernmost tip of Stranglethorn Vale. Booty Bay was located there, in a large cove carved out by a waterfall.
Booty Bay. Wow. Booty Bay.
Seeing Booty Bay for the first time was just as much of a shock as seeing Orgrimmar had been. Booty Bay was more like an organism than a city. It not only crawled with people, but the semi-lawless, pirate town crawled with life.
In every direction that you could look, there was some sort of thing happening. And by things, I don't just mean commerce. Oh sure, there were people buying and selling, but there were also revelers, entertainers, and even bar brawls.
And unlike Orgrimmar, it wasn't just Orcs, either! All sorts of races lived here; races from both the Horde and the Alliance. Despite my skepticism towards all things Goblin, you couldn't help but be a little bit impressed. How did they manage to keep such diametrically-opposed people from killing each other? It was a mystery.
The city itself was equal parts town, dock, and ship. The Goblins had built it by scavenging the shipwrecks from the bottom of the bay. They had reused decks, masts, rigging, sails, and even ship hulls as building material. Some of the town was anchored to the cliffs, some suspended over the water, and some of the town even floated out into the bay itself. No matter where you stepped, it seemed like you had never really gotten off the boat.
Booty Bay was a monument to the Goblin way of thinking. Every dock, every walkway, and every shop was a testament to the "beat the environment into submission with whatever you have at hand" philosophy of construction.
And at the edge of the bay, the gleaming crown jewel: a statue, some hundred feet tall, carved into the very rock of Janeiro's Point. Baron Revilgaz, immortalized in limestone, gloats over the city he founded.
And if a two-foot tall Goblin isn't dreadful enough, then trust me when I say that Azeroth doesn't need one a hundred feet tall.
I don't talk about it to Johnny or Molthor, but I still see Goblins in my sleep sometimes; leering over me while I'm helpless.
I can't quite explain how that statue makes my guts twist.
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Anchor's Aweigh
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 2: Anchor's Aweigh
With a little inquiry, I found out that the Riptide was about to set sail. No one knew its true destination, but rumor had it that it was headed for Menethil Harbor. If true, then that would work out well for us. Menethil was in The Wetlands, a country also on the western coast of the Eastern Kingdoms, but yet far north of Westfall and the Elwynn Forest.
The Riptide was captained by a Goblin named Keelhaul, and managed by his first mate, a big, brown, bull Tauren called Garr Salthoof. He was pretty easy to spot. I found him holding a ledger beside the Riptide's gangplank.
"Garr-ee Salthoof," I addressed him in Taurahe, "I heard that you might be headed North."
He appraised me with a keen eye. "Why, you lookin' to join my crew?"
"No sir, I seek passage to Westfall."
"Westfall?" he laughed in an unpleasant way, "What are you, stupid? There's not a port in Westfall that you could leave alive."
"I don't want to go to one of Westfall's ports," I explained, "I'd rather row to shore in the dark."
Garr nodded his understanding. "The Riptide's a working ship, not a cruise line. It's not one of the Horde's assault ships, either. Beat it," he barked.
I would not be brushed off by Al'tabin, and I certainly wasn't going to be dismissed by one of my own kind. "My friends and I are no strangers to hard work. We need only passage to Westfall, but up until then, we would serve as faithfully as any other member of your crew."
Besides, the maps had set us back much further than I had anticipated. Searn Firewarder hadn't expected that this mission would lead me on multiple ship voyages, or that I would be carrying a third party member. As it was, the money he had advanced me was nearly gone, and my purse was growing light. If we could pay our way in sweat, then all the better, I figured.
Garr thoughtfully considered the possibility. He looked through the ledger, and tapped his primary finger a few times on each page. "We might be short..." he mumbled, "How many?"
"Three."
Garr nodded his head. "Tell ya what... Help load the cargo, and then maybe I'll let you join the crew."
I didn't care for his tone. It was the sort of offer I'd expect from a Goblin. "Let us join the crew, and then all three of us will load your cargo."
He smiled and nodded knowingly. "Okay, get your mates."
# # #
We worked through the day and set sail in the morning. The Riptide was not only a fast ship, it was well-armed too. With a row of cannons on each side, I figured that nothing short of an armada would dare to intercept us.
The crew, however, was a mixed bag; and I don't just mean that all races were represented aboard the Riptide. No, some of the crew members struck me as diligent and experienced sailors, while other were just... thugs. I could see why Garr was short-handed, if he had to resort to this lot just to fill positions, then he must have been dredging the barrel.
I thought that I could get along well enough with most of the crew, but I could feel myself taking an instant dislike to the boatswain. Even more, it was clear that he had taken an instant dislike to me.
The boatswain was a Draenei man by the name of Azgala. Draenei are a mysterious race said to have come from another world. Politically, they had sided with the Alliance, which automatically made him an enemy to the three of us.
Ironically, the boatswain and I had a lot in common, physically. He was only a little smaller than I was, but instead of a respectable fur coat, he had blue skin, like a Troll. His tail was a little thicker too, and instead of horns, his head extended into odd, bony plates. His hands were large, like mine, but instead of two strong fingers and a thumb, he had four skinny fingers and a thumb on each hand.
I could have easily overlooked all of these differences, but the strangest of all was his beard. I guess you would call it a beard. From a distance it looked like one, at least, but when you looked closer, you could see that instead of braids of hair, he had a few tentacles growing out of his face, as if he had tucked a squid in the bib of his shirt.
I had seen this before, once at a nokee zhi. Their tribe's largest bull took an instant dislike to our largest bull. I guess he had grown accustomed to being the biggest around, and when suddenly confronted by a bull that was even bigger than himself, he got all bent out of shape. Oh, they threw a couple punches, and wrestled in the dirt for a bit, but it didn't take long for them to work it out. Once they did that, they got along just fine, and we all had a fun celebration.
I hoped that that was what was going on with me and Azgala. He had always had an important job and had been nearly the largest on board (first mate Garr made us both look small), but now he had to deal with a new crew member who was bigger.
I hoped that we could work this out quickly. I didn't want to have to deal with him the entire journey.
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sarayana 2009-11-03 01:36 am UTCflexor 2009-11-03 08:57 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-03 03:07 pm UTCAs you could predict... with very few words. After all, I've already stated that he can't speak common and what's the chance that they would speak Orcish or Taurahe?
ghostmoon 2009-11-03 01:50 pm UTCOkay, this made me laugh probably more than it should.....
gre7g 2009-11-03 03:08 pm UTC
Azgala
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 3: Azgala
My problems with Azgala started only minutes after I climbed on board. The big Draenei spit on me, for no apparent reason. I could have just ignored it, but this was no way to start a journey. If I ignored it this time, then I would have to deal with this sort of crap every time I was near him. Or worse! Who knew how this would escalate if not confronted?
So instead, I dropped what I was doing and put my face up to his. I snorted and stared him right in the eyes, without blinking.
He smirked at me and said something in Common. I had no idea what it was, but it was clear to me that he was a real scumbag. I didn't look away.
Someone to my side translated for me. "He says, 'Looks like we get steak tonight.'"
"Why not squid?" I retorted. No one translated for him, but I could see in his eyes that he understood.
"Move it! Move it! Get back to work!" Garr Salthoof was suddenly between us, pushing him one way and myself the other. I went about my duties without looking back.
I kept my mouth shut. I didn't complain.
That evening, Johnny and I were on our knees, scrubbing the deck with brushes. It's a pretty dreadful job, but a far cry from the worst that they could assign us. You see, ships are sealed with tar to keep them watertight, and that tar must be reapplied regularly. I don't know how horrible a job tarring is, but I do know what it's like to try and get even a small patch of pitch out of fur. I would take any job they gave me and be thankful, as long as I didn't have to work with hot tar.
"I don't know what his deal is. I really don't," I muttered to the rogue, "But if he thinks I'm going to just take it, then he's mistaken."
Johnny glanced up just as I felt the flash of pain. I can't quite describe the sensation when a tail goes under hoof, but it was not something you just ignore. I leapt instantly to my hooves, and planted my fist as deeply into Azgala's gut as I possibly could.
I was not backing down. No way.
I pressed the advantage while I had it. I slammed one fist into his face and then the other. He got some punches in too, but I didn't care. What really mattered was that he understood how I would react when pushed.
The boatswain drove a hoof up into my stomach, knocking me back. It hurt like hell, but I was willing to ignore it. I scrambled to my hooves and was preparing to rush at him, but the fight had stopped just as quickly as it had started.
I stood there, panting, with fists balled at my shoulders. My nose was throbbing and I was sure it dripped crimson. He stood a few feet away, frozen at a queer angle. His face was splashed with blue and he panted like I did. One hand was up in front of him, ready to block, and the other hand was down low, holding a long knife.
I didn't take my eyes off the blade, but I did a mental inventory. Had he cut me? I didn't think so. He must have pulled the knife after we last separated. Instead of starting again, we just stood there.
Then I noticed a second glinting of steel. This was one of Johnny's daggers. His bony fingers were wrapped around the grip, but the tip of the blade was hidden beneath Azgala's chin-line.
Johnny was as expressionless as always. He didn't say a word. The Draenei slowly sheathed his blade and backed away. Johnny's dagger vanished as smoothly as it had appeared.
"What have I gotten us into?"
There are 12 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
starcharmer 2009-11-04 12:12 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-04 12:18 am UTCNow you've got me imagining Brick as Penn and Johnny as Teller. Heh. Someone should totally doodle that.
starcharmer 2009-11-04 12:20 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-04 12:36 am UTCstarcharmer 2009-11-04 12:41 am UTCI feel bad laughing at Brick's pain. :P
flamingcat 2009-11-04 03:10 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-04 03:43 am UTCflamingcat 2009-11-05 02:22 am UTCjeda_chan 2009-11-04 04:54 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-04 05:05 am UTCNot that you guys wouldn't necessarily read the story, if it was pure "original fiction" without being set in an existing world! But if you haven't heard of me, and the story wasn't set in a world you knew, would you even stumble across it? Probably not.
I have to build some momentum somewhere!
Regardless, I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope you keep on coming back.
amri 2009-11-04 04:03 pm UTCWhen are we going to get his story? *pleads*
gre7g 2009-11-04 04:14 pm UTC
A.W.O.L.
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 4: A.W.O.L.
Despite the weariness I felt, I slept very poorly that night. Every sound, every movement woke me. Every shadow that could be a Draenei with a knife made my heart beat faster.
This was going to be a very long trip.
I finally did get some sleep in the early morning hours, but at sunrise I was awakened by Garr's shouting... the entire ship was. I hopped out of bed and climbed up on deck to find out what was wrong.
"Why haven't these lines been checked? Why is this rope uncoiled? Why are the sails still tied?" He bellowed.
Wow. He looked really pissed. I ticked through the tasks that I had been given yesterday to make sure I hadn't neglected anything. When the boss is this angry, the last thing you needed was for one of your unfinished chores to catch his attention.
"Bring me the boatswain! I want an explanation! Where is Azgala?" Garr had quite the set of lungs.
Crewman hustled this way and that, to put some distance between themselves and the first mate, and to search the ship. I had no desire to find Azgala, so I didn't look. Instead, I checked over my own responsibilities and tried to appear busy.
No one said anything. The minutes passed and it soon became clear that Azgala's chores had gone undone because the big Draenei was no longer aboard.
The longboat was still in place, and we had not docked, so there was only one possible explanation. The boatswain must have gone overboard sometime during the night. An eerie silence stretched over the ship. Crewman looked at one another for an explanation.
Johnny's damned face was as unreadable as ever.
"You!" Garr suddenly shouted. He pointed at a Night Elf man in a loose shirt. "You're the new boatswain. Get to work!"
And just like that, the crew went back about their business, as if the man had never climbed on board. I don't know what I would have expected, really. Circling back around to search? Mourning? No. Questions? An investigation? Perhaps.
But that was it. The man was presumed to be dead and that was good enough for everyone. It was disturbing and creepy.
What sort of men were these?
# # #
With Azgala gone, the Riptide became a far more pleasant place to be. I threw myself gleefully into my chores without worries of ambush. If the former boatswain had left any friends behind who wished to continue in his tracks, then they were far more timid than he had been.
I made an effort to meet my fellow shipmates. I had thought that I would get along best with people from the other Horde races, but that turned out not to be the case. Several of the Orcs, Trolls, and Forsaken were just as brutish and unpleasant as the first mate, Garr.
I did, however, find that I was becoming fast friends with the ship's cook, a human woman named Kaysha. She spoke both Common and Orcish, and was glad to teach me a few words of her native tongue. I drank it all in. I seemed to have a natural bent for languages, after all. I had picked up Orcish in almost no time at all.
Kaysha was fun and interesting. She was about Johnny's height, but round and jolly. She loved to eat, and drink, and to tell crude jokes. She kept her blond hair in a long braid, and despite the huge difference in our sizes, she showed no fear of me at all.
In fact, she laughed and cursed whenever I was in the way. She shoved me roughly aside without worry of angering me. She seemed to find that hilarious.
That same affection she showed me, however, could not be said of Johnny. You could tell with a glance that the Forsaken scared her.
She had grown up in a town called Darrowshire, in a country that was now known as the Eastern Plaguelands. That had been before the third war, obviously. She had witnessed the outbreak of The Plague and fled the Scourge. I couldn't really fault her for being nervous around the undead.
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Bloodsail Brick
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 5: Bloodsail Brick
The Riptide moved like a fish, and the coastal ruins and fishing villages of Stranglethorn Vale sped by.
Molthor used his mojo every evening after our chores were finished, and I plotted his best guess at a heading on the maps.
Sadly, the magic was not as precise as was looking at a smoke plume, but I was not losing hope. Even if we couldn't pinpoint our destination from a distance, at least we could be confident that we were headed in the right direction. The angle of the readings did seem to grow a little shallower with each passing day.
After six days of travel, we saw the last of Stranglethorn go by. The dense, humid jungles gave way to more familiar, deciduous woods of Westfall. It wouldn't be long now until we could select a point of departure.
That evening, shortly after I had climbed into my hammock, there was a great commotion aboard. Bells rang... crew members ran this way or that on the decks above my head... orders were shouted. I was exhausted from a long day of work. I wanted to know what was going on, but I really didn't want to get out of my berth.
Then the first of the cannons fired.
You can't imagine just how loud those things are, especially when you are below decks when they go off. My ears were ringing.
I was up and running. I grabbed my axe and considered throwing on my armor as well. Chain mail is a wonderful thing. It can save your life. But wearing it aboard a ship is not without risk. A heavy axe is easily dropped, but if you went overboard with armor on, you'd likely hit the bottom long before you got it off.
I knew nothing about firing cannons, or naval warfare, but I was prepared to repel boarders. I was prepared to kill if I had to.
More cannons fired... more, and more. Despite the open seas, the air filled with gun smoke. It was dark out, but I could see flames through the smoke. I worked my way slowly towards them to see if I would need to bail water to try and douse them, but I hit the bulwark with my knees. That was a good sign. It meant that the fire was on the other ship.
The two ships were very close now and I could hear orders being shouted on both sides -- both in Common, unfortunately. With a bone-jarring thump, our ships made contact. Grappling hooks were in the air.
The Riptide was a few feet taller than the other vessel, so it would be an easy jump over and a simple climb back along any of the ladders hanging from our bulwark. I could see various enemy crew members scrambling around the other ship's deck, but they were working to control the fires, and not trying to come aboard.
I kept an eye on them all, my axe at the ready, and prepared to attack, should any of them advance.
They were Night Elves, all of them; distant cousins of the Blood Elves that had joined with the Horde. The Tauren had always regretted that the Night Elves hated the Orcs so. It caused them to side with the Alliance, and cast their lots behind humans; men who feared all who looked too different from themselves.
It was a shame, really. The Tauren and Night Elves had so much in common both culturally and spiritually. We could have been the best of allies, instead of foes.
My shipmates did not wait for the battle to come to them. Instead, wave after wave leapt down on the Night Elves and brought the fighting to them. The elves unsheathed their swords and fought back. I did not understand the nature of this battle, but I had given my oath to Garr, and sworn my loyalty.
I leapt down and gave it my all. There were a few Night Elves among our crew, but they were dressed very differently from these. The crew of this ship were outfitted in light and flowing garments. Our crew was dressed in leather. Between the fires and the glowing whisps used by the Elves to light their vessel, I could differentiate the combatants easily enough.
I struck one elf low, and severed his leg cleanly at the thigh. Another came at me from the side, so I spun my axe in between us and bellowed loud. He backed quickly off, to find a more suitable opponent.
The battle raged all around me. Blades flashed and blood sprayed. On three separate occasions, I came dangerously close to receiving a mortal wound. But the spirits were kind and the battle decisive. In what seemed like only moments, we tossed our weapons back aboard and scrambled back to the Riptide.
Then, we had cut ourselves loose of the grapples and were sailing away at top speed. The crew cheered wildly. They drank and danced. They cheered some more. Soon, they broke out into song.
We all celebrated as the fires grew dim in the distance. We had won.
# # #
In the morning, we assembled as a group on the main deck of the Riptide. Four of us had been lost, and one had suffered a grave wound to the side of the face, but the remaining nineteen had escaped unscathed.
No one mourned the dead. No one consoled the injured.
Captain Keelhaul congratulated us for our victory, and then began to divide the booty. Two shares for Keelhaul, two-and-a-half shares for Salthoof, one-and-a- quarter share for the new boatswain, and so on down the line, depending on time with the crew and whether we had boarded the other vessel.
My stomach tumbled and tumbled with confirmation of what I had done. My share of the loot did not soothe it.
I had slept precious little that night. My mind replayed every moment, from my first meeting with Garr, until the end of the battle. I analyzed and over- analyzed all the clues.
Where had I gone so wrong?
When had we become pirates?
There are 2 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
flexor 2009-11-06 08:09 pm UTCgre7g 2009-11-07 04:12 am UTC
Friend or Fetter
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 6: Friend or Fetter
The next three days could not go fast enough. I threw myself into my work. I picked up all the Common I could learn. I charted Molthor's readings. And when the time was close, I planned our departure with Garr.
I did not talk about my feelings. I did not discuss the raid. No one aboard needed any idea that I didn't want to be a pirate, or that I didn't think I was one.
Fortunately, Garr didn't give me any grief about leaving. He told me that there was no way he would even try to pick us back up when we were done, but that was hardly any surprise. I hadn't expected a lift home, and frankly, I'd rather walk through enemy territory than spend more time in the company of criminals.
He even told me that we were welcome to become permanent members of his crew. Not an offer I was interested in, but at least it showed that he couldn't sense my regret.
I thanked Garr, said goodbye to Kaysha, and that night we rowed ashore with one of the nicer Orcs aboard. Karg seemed like a decent enough guy, for a pirate. We rowed to a lonely beach that was far from any village on our map. I unloaded my gear, and shook hands with Karg, thanking him for the help.
I watched him row back into the darkness.
I was so angry with Molthor that I could chew iron ore and spit nails. I ground my teeth as I pulled on my armor, unable to contain it for another moment. "I can't believe you didn't tell me that the Riptide was a pirate ship," I grumbled.
Despite the darkness, I could see the shock on Molthor's face. "Nah wan' be a pirate? Wah mek y'pick a pirate boat?"
"How the hell could," I started to yell, and then remembered where we were. I lowered my voice. "How the hell could I know it was a pirate ship? That was only the third boat I'd ever been on. And the other two were just little fishing boats."
The witchdoctor shrugged. "Ya mi fetter. Mi trapped a dis life, so as you. Mi 'ave ta 'elp. Mi nah gaan letcha down. Gaan 'elp ya, even if mi got t'be a pirate. Al'tabin say it muss be so."
"This is madness. Madness." I scanned the cliffs and looked for an easy way up. They didn't look too tall.
"'Ear dis, Sleepy Bull. Al'tabin see evra-t'in," Molthor explained, "Mi ma an' fadda, dey bring mi a Al'tabin twenny year ago, when mi were a li'l pickney. 'Im grow me. 'Im say mi letcha down. Ever time, some'ow.
"Den mi spend da las' twenny year to mek ready. Helped ever'one who ask mi fi dis. Mi waited fa one a dem a be you. Mi nah gaan letcha down. Gaan be deh fi you dis time."
"That makes no sense," I grumbled, "You don't have any idea what I need. Help me? That could mean anything. Perhaps you were supposed to help me by keeping me from becoming a criminal! Did you ever think of that? Or perhaps the help is in keeping me alive, or keeping me from doing something immoral. By just following blindly along... you're... you're not helping."
Molthor looked stunned. "Failed yeh... again," he gasped.
"You haven't failed me," I snapped. "I'm just disappointed. I'd appreciate it if you'd try to be more like Johnny. I mean, we look after each other because we're friends. We care what happens to each other.
"Stop treating me like your fetter, and try treating me like a person."
Molthor was quiet a while as we climbed the small cliff that edged the beach. "Mi try harda." I slapped him on the back and everything seemed okay.
Beyond the cliffs were a small wooded area, and beyond the woods were farms.
As it turns out, farmland is actually pretty easy to sneak across. Farmers work all day, and none of them have any reason to be up at night. Patrols keep an eye on the cities and roads, but who would search farmland for invaders? We moved quietly, but still made decent time.
There are 2 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
norcumi 2009-11-09 10:26 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-09 11:56 am UTC
Pining for Home
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 7: Pining for Home
The ground was soft, so we followed the fence lines across the countryside. I walked on the pasture side of the fences, Johnny on the outside, and Molthor, well, he walked across the tops of the fences, as easily as the two of us covered open ground.
It might have been a needless precaution, but I figured that my hoof prints, if spotted inside a field, would raise no more alarm than Johnny's boot prints, if spotted outside. Unless someone was really looking for us, there would be no reason for anyone to presume there were any Horde in Westfall.
Before each dawn, we bedded down in woods or haylofts. During the summer, farmers have no reason to spend much time in their barns. They let their livestock out in the morning, and corral them back up at night, but with the summer's green pastures, they had no need of hay.
At night, we would take whatever food we could quietly steal. We helped ourselves to fruit, eggs, vegetables, some meat from a smokehouse, and once we even found jars of preserves in a storm cellar. I had not realized how much happiness a tiny jar of strawberry jam could bring.
We didn't dare make a fire, so we had to eat what we found in the state that we found it. The fruit, carrots, and smoked meats were great, but the raw eggs and potatoes were disappointing. Molthor and I saved our potatoes in our bags. Eating them was far better than going hungry, but we continually hoped to find more interesting meals. Many nights we did not.
Potato nights were quiet nights.
We felt safe enough to whisper conversations as we walked. That helped keep our spirits up. Unfortunately, the conversations usually degenerated into a discussion of what we missed most.
"Crusty bread... still warm from the oven..." I sighed happily.
"Spotty yellatail," Molthor suggested, "tenda, butt'ry, wit' a likkle squeeze a lemon."
Ooh, that was enough to make my stomach rumble. I resisted the urge to bite into another potato. "I miss my utankan."
"Yeh?" Molthor asked. "Dun miss a village much. Ya, dem folk a nice 'nuff, but dey jus' folk. Radda spen' mos' a mi time wit' miself."
Wow. That seemed so strange. Tauren are such a social people. The tribes may be secluded, but the people seldom are. It's a rare Tauren that goes anywhere by himself.
"I miss Kaja," I shared.
"Ya miss a cow, mon? Ain't dat strange fi Tarren?" Molthor asked.
"Yeah, but she's an unusual Tauren." I explained how Kaja had been raised by Orcs and didn't act like I expected her to act. It was a long conversation, but it felt good to talk about her. Johnny had been a good listener, of course, but I found that I enjoyed talking with Molthor as well. At least he understood that women were desirable, unlike Urlug.
The witchdoctor chuckled. "A Tarren in lub? Neva t'ought mi see dat."
I felt very conspicuous. I wondered if I should have shared so much. "Pretty strange, huh?"
Molthor reached down from the fence where he walked and put a hand on my head. "Sun's strange. From all dem light dat burn in a sky, none odda blaze so." He chuckled. "It dun mek it bad, seen."
That made me feel a bit better.
I asked the Troll about the women in his life, but he didn't have much to share. He said that he had never met the right one, whatever that meant. Perhaps there were other Troll men in his village that were bigger and stronger than he was.
Molthor continued to use his mojo, and we spent two weeks traveling across Westfall. Tensions grew as we neared the border. With each passing day it became more clear that we would need to cross over into the Elwynn Forest.
Even Johnny seemed a little apprehensive about what challenges might lay ahead as we neared Stormwind.
There are 11 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
sarayana 2009-11-10 01:26 am UTCI'm so happy that Brick and Molthor aren't hating on each other anymore, there was so much tension until they got off the boat.
flamingcat 2009-11-10 02:24 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-10 02:38 am UTCflamingcat 2009-11-10 02:41 am UTCNow, you were the one who wrote the story, so logically...
flexor 2009-11-10 10:05 am UTCThis, I think, is the nicest thing about storytelling. Give everyone their own funny ways, then make them clash. Have Humans develop the strangest ideas about what those depraved Night-elves get up to, then have an actual Night-elf put them right on a few of those things.
As for Brick being a bit naive about love... He's nearing
norcumi 2009-11-10 12:56 pm UTCSee, here's the thing I've never figured: Tauren might look like cows, but why does that mean anything? In terms of society, cultural, and circumstance, them being herbivorous is impossible. Pardon me for a moment as my inner anthropologist gets out of her box.
Lore pretty clearly states that Tauren are nomadic, and nomads are going to be primarily meat eaters. Ok, in theory one could cultivate huge swaths of land and just travel from end to end of it, and there's a pretty neat hypothetical/fantastical culture lurking to be explored there, but to maintain crops you need a stable base where you can store seeds, hold farming implements, house the animals you use to help you harvest the crops, storehouses where you have the surplus from last year, etc. Nomads have to carry either everything with them, or whatever it is they need as they go from settlement to settlement where they stay for part of the year. You CAN'T carry how-many-tons-does-a-tauren-eat-in-a-wee
Which leads nicely to the next point: the hunting culture that permeates the society, from in-game quest chains to the very structure of the Tauren buildings. The kodo is a venerated prey animal. So let's say we've got some young herbivorous Tauren setting out to make it clear they're warriors, and take down a kodo bull or whatall. They go forth, and slay the great beastie, honor its spirit, take the skin and bones for crafts and buildings, then ... leave several tons of meat sitting out on the plains? To... feed the scavengers? To... um...
Nope. Waste of resources, waste of kodo. One should not waste the honorable kodo. If one has meat eating allies or pets, ok, but to use the kodo as game material indicates, that's a LOT of meat running around that the Tauren wouldn't be using. That would mean a frugal culture, such as they're implied to be, WOULDN'T be a hunting culture in the first place.
Lastly, I'm more than a little shaky on this part of lore, but weren't the Tauren stuck out in the Barrens or someplace like that for ages? With Mulgore belonging to the centaur, or something? So here's the thing. Whatall kind of plants would grow in the Barrens, especially in sufficient quantities for tribes (plural!) of Tauren and their kodo? How would you harvest them on the move?
::shoves the crazed anthropologist back in the box:: So.... yeah. Apologies for the rant; it's early and the caffeine has yet to hit hard enough to tell me when to shut up. ^_^;;
gre7g 2009-11-10 01:25 pm UTCIn the Azeroth that I envision, Tauren do eat and enjoy meat, fish, dairy, etc. However, they crave those things that they don't get to eat as often.
I suspect everyone can associate with those lean times when you've had to live on whatever is in the cupboard, until after a few weeks, you find yourself pulling out your hair and screaming, "I'd kill for a steak!" Right?
Well, I can see the Tauren living quite well on meat from hunt after hunt, but if the tribe were to migrate past a field of ripe berries or (OMG) broccoli, that the entire migration would screech to a halt until the goodies had been gobbled up.
Similarly, if someone were to bake bread, then it would be highly unlikely that any morsel would go to waste. (And yes, you can make bread without farming. There are many starchy plants beyond just wheat that can be formed into dough.)
flexor 2009-11-11 08:42 am UTC(Now I imagine some Tauren snorting at me, and suggesting that I, being evolved from monkeys, could always go and climb a tree. Grazing? What do you think we are, savages?).
gre7g 2009-11-11 12:00 pm UTCIf you look at photos of herbivores such as cattle (or even gorillas) you'll note that they have a far larger waistline relative to their size. This is to make room for all the additional plumbing required in the process. Now compare these to carnivores such as dogs. Note that Tauren have proportions that are more similar to humans than herbivores.
So could Tauren digest grass? Perhaps. They might have enough leftover plumbing to make it possible, but if so, I suspect it would be just sufficient enough to survive in an emergency, and insufficient for a tribe to thrive.
gre7g 2009-11-10 01:35 pm UTCBrick is naive about love; and he craves being with Kaja, although he doesn't yet understand why. I suspect that his voyage with Ran has already brushed away a little of Brick's naiveté regarding sex.
Regardless, the biggest hurdle that Brick has yet to clear is the realization that one has anything at all to do with the other. After all, he is coming from a culture where you love everyone, and sex is simply something that happens during the rut. In his world, these are two completely independent things, and there's no logical reason in his mind that one would connect to the other.
Kaja however, would see things very differently.
captive_geek 2009-11-10 02:39 pm UTCWhy do I see this as foreshadowing?
Flight of the Tauren
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 8: Flight of the Tauren
The mighty Nazferiti separated Elwynn Forest from Duskwood, and a wide tributary to it flowed from the mountains surrounding Stormwind. One way or another, we were going to need to get across.
With so few landmarks to judge by, it was difficult to say exactly where we were. My best guess was a day's walk south of the bridge the connected Westfall to Elwynn Forest, but there was no way to be sure without approaching a populated or well-guarded area.
There were more roads here. More roads than appeared on the map. I didn't know if we were lost or if the map was incomplete. I hoped for the latter.
As we crossed the third road of the night, a raspy voice whispered "Patrol!" We sprinted for cover without looking back. Fortunately, there was a small stand of trees, only a hundred feet ahead.
Only once we were in deep cover did I dare turn and search the darkness for signs of pursuit. "What did you see?" I whispered to Molthor.
The headhunter didn't say a word. Instead, he pointed to Johnny, to indicate that it had been the rogue who had called the alarm. It took a moment for this to sink in. Johnny had actually spoken, and on his own, no less. This was, after all, only the second thing I had ever heard him say.
It was quite the time to have a breakthrough!
I scanned the darkness, but didn't see a thing. Then I heard the jingling of metal and the sound of galloping. I smelled the horses.
There were at least two of them, a mounted patrol. That was bad. We might have been able to out-run men, but never horses.
The patrol had left the road. They rode back and forth along the edge of the woods, so they obviously had spotted us. I hoped only that they hadn't gotten a good look. Perhaps if they had been far enough back, then they would have only seen movement. We could have been loose cattle, or brigands, even. They may not have realized that we were Horde.
They searched for quite some time before heading off. I exhaled a long, quiet sigh of relief. "We should press on, before they come back with reinforcements."
Instead of leaving the woods, we pressed on through them, headed East, towards the river.
The woods were small, and soon we were at their edge.
"Dem bwoys comin' 'gain," Molthor said. "Four ridahs dis time... two dog."
Dogs? Hiding was definitely not an option. We sprinted from the trees. I could just barely make out the river ahead. The sky was starting to lighten.
I still couldn't see the riders, but I had no reason to distrust the witchdoctor's farsight. We tumbled down a long slope to the river's muddy banks.
I was not prepared for just how large the river would be. We had many streams in Mulgore that we called rivers, but they were nothing like this. You could not throw a rock from one bank to the other, it was that wide. The skies were turning pink and I could see swirling eddies in the water.
If we abandoned our armor and weapons, then we might be able to swim to the other side without drowning. It would be easier if we had the luxury of choosing a better spot to cross, but that seemed unlikely.
I could hear the dogs.
Johnny looked to me for direction. "We stand and fight," I declared. "Is there place where they won't be able to fight on horseback?"
Molthor was rummaging through his pack. "Nah, 'old up. Gib me ya hoofs."
The witchdoctor pulled out a small vial of oil and rubbed it on our feet. An arrow landed in the grass beside us. I could see the riders now, rushing towards us, but they were still too far away to get a good shot.
"Gwan, den!" he shouted, the Troll sprinted out across the water, running for the opposite bank. I had no idea what sort of magic made this possible, but I was not about to question our luck. Johnny and I ran too.
I saw an arrow or two splash into the water. "'Urry!" Molthor shouted. He was a quick one, and was getting a good lead on the rogue and myself.
I ignored the attack and ran, never looking back. It was a wonderful sensation. I could see the currents swirls around us, and feel the cool water splashing over the tops of my hooves, but somehow the water held up my weight as if I were running on grass.
I couldn't hear the dogs, or the horses, or even the jangling of my own armor. The sounds of rushing water filled my ears the fresh smell tickled my nose. I just focused on the far bank and ran.
Closer. Closer. The edge was so close now. The splashing of my hooves on water. Splashing. Splashing.
And then suddenly, the magic was gone, as if the spell had never been cast.
With one mighty "Sploosh!" I was underwater. The weight of my armor dropped me hard, like a stone.
There are 6 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
sarayana 2009-11-11 05:24 am UTCstarcharmer 2009-11-11 05:46 am UTCicanbeurbestbet 2009-11-11 03:13 pm UTCanti_joker 2009-11-11 10:28 pm UTCghostmoon 2009-11-12 01:05 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-12 02:09 am UTC
Elwynn Forest
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 9: Elwynn Forest
My knees struck the river bottom and I tried to gasp in surprise, only to suck in a lung-full of water. I sputtered. I choked. I stood upright.
I had made it so close. At least I was in the shallows.
"Mi madda caa run fasta dan dat, Sleepy Bull," Molthor shouted from where he squatted on the bank. Johnny stood beside him, without even the decency of acting winded.
"You did good," I told the Troll as I pulled my weight up beside him. I flopped down hard on the bank. "You did good."
"We nah clear yet, mon."
He was right. "They'll probably double back to the bridge and pick up some additional search parties. Probably more dogs too." I rolled over on my back. "We won't be able to hide. Are we close?"
Molthor took out the mojo, closed his eyes, and turned slowly around. "Yeh, t'ink so. Stronga now dat we 'pon a rivah."
"Okay, let's head out."
It felt strange to be out in the light, but it also felt long overdue. Tauren are made for long-distances. I'd rather walk sixteen hours a day, than sneak around during the darkest six.
Elwynn Forest was still farmland, but far more wooded than Westfall had been. The trees aggressively reclaimed any land left fallow.
"Molthor, Johnny... keep your eyes open for anything that could help hide our tracks, or cover our scent. Streams, rocky ground, pig pens..." They nodded as one.
Molthor lead us through woods and streams. I wanted to lead, but I was finding it increasingly difficult; not only because I couldn't use the mojo, but I also felt hot, and I was finding it hard to concentrate. I was relieved to hand over the burden to the witchdoctor.
There was a distinct urgency to our pace. No one spoke. We didn't stop to eat or plan, and only paused long enough for the Troll to use his mojo.
We walked through the day and the following night. Even I was starting to feel worn out. Molthor looked like he might have pushed himself too hard.
The sky was starting to lighten when the witchdoctor peeked out of the trees and across a large plowed field. "T'ink we 'ere. Dat likkle 'ouse dere."
His words were enough to lift some of the weight off of my shoulders. "That's great! Johnny and I will go in and return the necklace. Molthor, you keep watch outside. It shouldn't take long, and then we can head South."
There had been no time during the last day to consult my maps, but I suspected that we were close to Elwynn Forest's southern border. If we could just cross over to Duskwood, then we'd probably be clear of pursuit. It would be foolhardy for the Alliance to chase three lone Horde onto Scourge land.
Molthor put up a hand. "'Old up," he said.
I heard it too. A dog. It wasn't just a farm dog tied up behind a house, either. This was behind us, on our trail. You could almost hear him baying, "I found them! This way! This way!"
"How far?"
"'Alf a mile," the Troll said. "T'ree swordman, wearin' hides. One bowman. One dog."
We set our packs in a pile. I walked a little ways out into the field, and turned back to face the trees. The sun would be behind me. That would help. I wanted them to focus on me.
"I'll keep their attention, but I have no shield. Molthor, you stay in the trees. Take out the archer, or I'll be helpless. Johnny... do what you do best."
Molthor used his magic to call upon the elements. They coalesced around me in the form of four small totems, one on each compass point.
Standing inside the totem ring felt wonderful. The magic coursed through me and help rejuvenate my tired muscles. I swung my axe and let it cut the air. Whatever fate this battle held for me, I was ready.
There are 6 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
icanbeurbestbet 2009-11-12 07:24 am UTCSeriously.
The little things (questing, spells, totems) make me happy.
I want to see you work the magic with a mage (only because they're my favorite =P).
gre7g 2009-11-12 01:00 pm UTCThere isn't much magic in this tale (since I didn't want to distract from all the melee-er main characters), but I am contemplating doing another, much more magic-heavy story. We'll have to see if it happens.
ladyhelen 2009-11-12 10:08 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-12 01:00 pm UTCrinewen 2009-11-12 12:48 pm UTCgre7g 2009-11-12 01:02 pm UTCFret not about the suspenseful stopping points. Tomorrow's episode will give the battle some closure, so you won't be on the edge of your seat all weekend.
Three Against One
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 10: Three Against One
I stood and waited. I was glad we got a chance to prepare for the attack, and that our pursuers would have to fight winded. We needed every advantage that we could get.
The dog was the first to reach us. It was a large, wet, shaggy thing with dark fur. It bounded out of the trees and slammed its full weight into my chest with easily enough power to knock a human to the ground. I had to take a half-step backwards myself.
The beast bit viciously at my chest and arm. I felt a little bad for it. This dog wasn't truly my enemy. It was a shame to kill it. It was just a tool used by our pursuers.
But then again, I thought, the men in the woods were not really my enemies either. My true enemy was the Alliance, and these men were just its tools. I grabbed the dog's head with one hand and peeled it off of my chain mail. I cracked it like a whip and tossed the carcass to the side, outside of the ring of totems.
My real concern was the men behind the dog. I gripped the axe tightly with both hands and bellowed into the woods, "Come and get me, you néchis!" I screamed. Birds scattered from their perches, flapping away from the noise.
The three swordsmen emerged at a more measured pace. They began to circle around me, taking up flanking positions. A few arrows flew past from the man in the trees. I knew there was nothing I could do about the archer, so I kept my attention on the swords.
The man to my right was a coward, and would be the first to die. He had large arms, and held a two-handed sword out in front of him, defensively, trying to keep some distance between us.
I didn't look directly at him, but even with a side-ways glance, I could see the fear in his eyes. He wasn't ready for a real battle. The expression on his face said it all. He had hoped that some other search party would find us first. Even now, he was praying that I would lay down my arms and let them take me prisoner.
The man to my left was an experienced fighter. With a short sword in his right hand and an axe in his left, he did not tremble in fear. He was looking me over, and deciding how he should best begin. It was clear that he was not in charge. He was waiting for the third man to attack.
It was the man in front of me who had my full attention. He was calm and collected. He had tan, craggy skin, and a rotten tooth right in the front of his smile. His hair was long, blond, and oily. His armor was old and black. It looked very well-maintained. He carried a short, narrow sword in each hand.
Rotten-tooth spoke in Common. I don't know why he bothered. I'm sure he was telling me to surrender, but it was a waste of his breath. I might one day put my neck in the hangman's noose voluntarily, but it would be for a noble cause. It won't be because I'm afraid to fight.
I didn't bother replying. This wasn't what I was waiting for.
The axe-man to my left gasped in pain. That was my cue. I didn't look at him, but I presumed he had a dagger lodged in one of his kidneys.
I spun around the coward on my right and brought the axe down hard, slicing him from neck to hip. The axe-man would be locked in battle with Johnny, so I positioned myself so that my axe was between Rotten-tooth and myself.
Rotten-tooth grinned at me. He had lost one of his men, another was mortally injured, and he grinned at me? He held up one of his swords and the sunlight shining behind me glinted off the crimson on the blade.
That's when I noticed the throbbing in my left arm. He must have slid the blade underneath my hauberk somehow when I spun. I didn't dare take my eyes off of him, but I could feel the blood dripping down my arm.
This guy was fast... scary fast. I didn't dare swing the axe. It was far too slow a weapon against someone who could move like Rotten-tooth. Although not designed as a jabbing weapon, I tried to catch the swordsman with the axe blade's toe.
He was not intimidated. Instead, he fell back and tried to run a sword up my hauberk's other sleeve, failing only at the last minute.
He laughed out loud and I could feel a slight panic in my guts.
Rotten-tooth charged quickly and there was no time to bring the axe around. Instead, I kicked forward, trying to catch him in the chest with a hoof.
One of his blades snagged momentarily in my mail, but the other slid up under my cuisse, and buried itself deep in my thigh. A flash of pain burned up my leg.
He was taking me apart, bit by bit, and I had yet to even nick him.
He laughed again and sweat began to pour down my face.
There was a sickening gasp behind me. I didn't dare turn to look, but a moment later, Johnny emerged to stand at my side. Now I was the one who was grinning.
We tried to flank Rotten-tooth, but the best I could manage was to limp. He continued to maneuver around the two of us, keeping myself between him and the rogue.
Finally, a leather-clad shape emerged from the forest. I glanced up, worried whether it would be the witchdoctor or the archer who had emerged victorious...
While we were momentarily distracted, Rotten-tooth took off running at full speed.
There was no way I was in any shape to give chase.
There are 6 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
rinewen 2009-11-13 03:14 am UTCgre7g 2009-11-13 04:52 am UTCThe sad thing is that we're starting to run out of episodes... Pretty soon, there will be no cliffhangers left, and then what will we do?
flexor 2009-11-13 08:29 am UTCI was at the Discworld Convention, and Terry Pratchett was giving one of his talks. He said something like: "I spend half a year writing this book, and then fans come up to me and say they read it all in a day, and when is the next one coming out?"
Rotten-tooth attempts to run away in fear. Though to be honest, running is the most sensible action for him to take, and he doesn't seem all that scared. Time to break out the bandages. Oh well. Molthor has a mana bar. He can heal. Wouldn't be much of a witch-doctor if he couldn't.
rinewen 2009-11-13 03:47 pm UTCamri 2009-11-13 04:36 pm UTCI also hope you are settling in with your new job.
gre7g 2009-11-13 06:39 pm UTCThanks! I'm toying around with a story idea. I may write up a test chapter and solicit some feedback on the characters before jumping in with both feet.
I also hope you are settling in with your new job.
So far so good! I'm loving what I'm doing, I'm employed, and Huntsville rocks! Yay!
Juju
Index: [Previous] [First]
Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 11: Juju
Molthor pressed his wrists together and gestured at the fleeing swordsman. A blast of arctic cold erupted from his hands and slammed into Rotten-tooth's back. It didn't knock him down, but it did slow him to a crawl.
I saw the rogue leap up on his back and drive both daggers down into the human's neck.
I turned away. I didn't need to witness it.
"Ya look a been tru bloodfiah," the witchdoctor told me. Molthor, on the other hand, didn't have a scratch on him.
"I'll survive. Can your magic heal me?" I asked.
He nodded. "But we gaan need fi sew up ya cuts. 'Fore yeh bleed out."
Johnny returned from his gruesome task. "Are you okay?" I asked.
He flicked casually at some filth on his chest.
"Good. Johnny, check if that guy's armor fits you. Molthor, grab our packs. I'll meet you both inside."
# # #
I knocked on the door and stuck my hoof in the crack when it opened. The single-room home erupted into screams as I peeked in.
I saw a man and a woman inside. The man was greying at the temples, but seemed otherwise young and strong. The woman was stout and buxom. Two children clung to her arms, a boy and a girl. They both seemed to be around Urlug's height, or a little taller.
The woman and children cowered in the back of the home, and the man positioned himself between us.
I knew I was quite the sight. It was unlikely that they had ever seen a Tauren before, much less had one crouching underneath their ceiling. Plus, my weapon and armor were coated in blood. It could not have been a pretty sight.
I let them scream for another moment before putting a finger to my lips. I made a shushing noise.
Molthor came in behind me and set our packs on the floor. I leaned my axe up against the wall.
The home seemed tiny, especially with the two of us taking up space in it. There was a table and chairs, a bed, and a fireplace. I would never be able to sit on their chairs without breaking them, so I kneeled before the table and tried to ignore the throbbing in my leg. I gestured for them to join me. "Come," I asked in Common.
I waited at the table, and surveyed the remains of their breakfast. It looked so good. I wanted to help myself to some of the fried eggs and ham. I wanted to grab the bread, but this was so much more important.
"Come, please," I asked again.
Realizing that I was not going to give up, the father took a seat opposite me. He looked quite brave, considering. His face was sweaty.
The woman and children took up position behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders. It would have to do.
I gestured to Molthor and he handed me the mojo. I unwound the necklace from the bundle and set it on the table in front of them.
The man picked up the necklace and glanced at it, but his focus was clearly on me.
"Daughter," I explained.
That got his attention. He looked at the necklace again and I could see it click in his eyes. He burst into tears. The mother grabbed it from him. She clutched it to her breast and began to scream and wail. The children screamed too.
The boy child surprised me. He screamed something in Common. "Murderer?" I would guess. He grabbed a knife from the table and leapt onto me, stabbing the blade into the center of my chest.
I saw him coming, but I just didn't have it in me to stop him. Fortunately, the blade could not penetrate my mail.
I plucked the blade from his hand with my thumb and primary finger. I didn't know what else to do, so I put my hand around his back and held him close for a few seconds. Then I picked him up and handed him back to his father.
I waited a while for the wailing to stop, or at least grow quieter.
I didn't know enough words of Common to truly express my feelings, but even if I had, what could I truly say?
One word that I insisted Kaysha teach me, "Sorry."
Wow. Did you ever think he'd get the necklace back? I was starting to think we'd never get here! Poor Brick can die happy now. Oh sure, it would be nice if he could make it back to Orgrimmar... alive...
Regardless, we're finally in Alabama. I'm working a real job again. We're moved in to an actual house (It's a rental that I'm not crazy about, but it's only a year. I can live with it.) and no longer living in hotels.
I want to thank all of you guys for your support. Your positive comments about the story have kept me treading water, and your encouraging words about moving have helped keep my spirits up.
Thank you.
There are 4 comments on this episode. Please post your own.
sarayana 2009-11-16 01:39 am UTCI'm curious to see the parents' reactions towards Brick.
oph6440 2009-11-17 12:01 am UTCI've been reading your story for quite a while and have enjoyed every minute of it! Can't wait to see what happens in the next part!
gre7g 2009-11-17 12:49 am UTCThe distillery is here? I figured that would be in TN.
Glad you're liking the tale.
oph6440 2009-11-17 03:15 am UTCIt's funny, when I started reading your story, you said you were moving to Alabama. I thought to myself "It'd be funny if he moved to Huntsville".
First Aid
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Brick and Mortar
A World of Warcraft Story by Gre7g Luterman
Episode 12: First Aid
"Kyaan wait nah more," Molthor whispered to me.
I nodded and began to strip away my armor. The witchdoctor took the woman's sewing supplies from a basket and extracted a needle and thread.
Fortunately, Rotten-tooth's sword had caught the back of my forearm and not the front. The wound would have been far more severe, had he managed to sever the veins or tendons in my wrist.
The Troll gestured over my wound and the thread began to glow. I struggled with the tiny needle and tried to stitch the wet, furry skin closed with one hand. My fingers were simply too large, and the task was a nightmare for me.
The mother, watching keenly, finally made a frustrated sound. She grabbed the needle from me and took over the stitching, jabbering the whole time in Common.
"What har sayin'?" Molthor asked.
"No idea," I told him. "Probably something about me being incompetent, or complaining that I'm getting blood everywhere, or perhaps she's hoping that we can leave sooner once she gets this done. Who knows?"
Molthor continued to gesture, and the woman continued to stitch the glowing thread. I watched in amazement as the wound closed. The bleeding stopped and the stitches faded, leaving only a scar behind. It was fascinating, and not near as painful as I had expected.
I wasn't confident enough in my Common to ask them their names, so I nicknamed the parents Ma and Pa. It seemed to fit them.
Johnny entered the home, dressed almost entirely in the swordsman's leather. He carried the chest piece under an arm.
"Doesn't it fit?" I asked him.
Johnny gestured again to a spot on his chest, below his left nipple. I leaned a little closer to try and make out what it was. It looked like a feather... a couple of them, actually.
It dawned on me at last. "Fletching!" I turned the rogue around to find the bolt's shaft protruding a ways out from a point just beside his spinal column. "Ouch," I gasped. "I guess this might make it hard to put that armor on."
I gripped the shaft firmly and pulled it out, straight. He didn't react, and no blood or gore poured from the hole. I handed the crossbow bolt back to him. "Souvenir for you."
Molthor and the human woman tended to the gash in my leg, and soon the bleeding had stopped there too. I thanked them both.
From my purse, I took one of the gold pieces that Keelhaul had given me and handed it to her. I felt bad even having the dirty money. I couldn't think of a better use for it.
Ma's eyes opened wide. It was unlikely they had ever held more than silver or copper before. She tried to give it back, but I would not let her.
Suddenly I felt very tired. I leaned up against the healing totem that Molthor had summoned and closed my eyes.
# # #
When I awoke, a candle burned on the table.
"Wake up! Wake up!" I jabbed at the Troll. "We've slept through the entire day!"
Molthor scrambled to his feet and strapped his pack across his back. It was anyone's guess how close the other search parties might be to us now. We needed to hurry.
The human family still looked frightened, but resolved. They were eager for us to leave, of course, but they no longer seemed worried about what we might do to them.
There was a brief discussion between Ma and Pa. She gestured at him and then handed me a large loaf of bread. I expressed my sincere gratitude for it, and their kindness in general. It smelled delicious.
Even without understanding all the words, I could infer the debate over the how you should treat people who keep you captive in your own home. I imagined that Ma had said something along the lines of "You may run this home, mister, but I run the kitchen!"
It made me grin, regardless of how close to accurate it may have been.
Wow, that's the end of Part V! We're almost to the end of the story now. I hope you have enjoyed it.
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