Viewing Single Post From: Fremskritt's World of Warcraft fanfic thread

Viewing Single Post From: Fremskritt's World of Warcraft fanfic thread
Fremskritt	May 1 2008, 07:17 AM
The poster formerly known as TP Posts: 11,047 Group: Members Member #22 Joined: October 30, 2005 Gender Male	It's about time I wrote another installment about my huntress (loosely based upon my adventures with her in-game). Thanks for the comments so far, I hope you'll enjoy this part just as much. Two Winterstorm growled. He didn't like standing around when someone was sitting on his back. But Varulva was reluctant to enter the Blasted Lands. She had never liked the place, it was full of everything she hated. Demons, corruption, even the legendary Dark Portal through which her kin had come into this world. She had to move on though, the Portal had been reopened, and demons from the other side had been swarming through like the Horde had done so many decades ago when they came to Azeroth to plunder and burn. It was a part of her history which she was not proud of. Finally she found the resolve to move on. The demons had been pushed back, and a heroic effort was being led on the other side to keep them at bay, and it was her duty to do whatever she could to help. The Portal lay at the bottom of a big crater. What had formed it she didn't know, and didn't really care about, except for the fact she didn't want to be here. But she had her duties, so she reported to Warlord Dar'toon at the camp just at the feet of the portal. He ordered her through the portal, to report to Lieutenant General Orion on the other side. She saluted him and made her way. She had expected some kind of movement when she stepped through the portal, but there wasn't. One step she was back in Azeroth, on the next she was on Draenor, the homeworld of her race, now known as Outland. The portal was much bigger on the other side. How was that possible? She didn't brood much about this though, because once she was fully through she felt... abandoned. It was like a big part of herself had been ripped away from her. The spirits! They were gone! The bond she had felt ever since she had left the Valley of Trials and had gotten stronger ever since had vanished. Why? What had she done? She tried taking on the aspect of the monkey. She immediately felt more agile, but her eyesight got worse. Then she took on the aspect of the hawk again. Her eyesight got better again, just as good as it had been. So no, the spirits hadn't left her. She came to a grim realization. The spirits of the wild here were gone. She looked down the huge stairs in front of her. At the bottom of the stairs soldiers of both the Horde and Alliance were fighting the demons trying to ascend the stairs. Behind that she saw... she couldn't believe it. The land was dead. Truly dead. Even the Blasted Lands had showed some sign of life. She wanted to cry for the land's sake, but she didn't. Orcs don't cry. She held back the tears. She walked down the stairs, at a total loss of what to do. She had been so used to being immersed in the spirits of the wild that their sudden withdrawal had come as a shock to her. But she had to move on. She had her orders to talk to a Lieutenant General Orion. That sounded like an elven name, so she looked around for a blood elf. The Warlord surely didn't expect her to report to a night elf? But she didn't see a single blood elf on the stairs, so she asked the orc who looked like he was in charge for him. "You are talking to him right now," was the answer she got. Surprised, she uttered "Lieutenant General Varulva reporting in." Orion chuckled. "Another fresh recruit looking for a silly elf," he said. "I get lots of those." "I'm sorry," Varulva apologized. "I'ts alright," Orion responded. "It's good to see a female officer for once, I take it you're here to help in the war against the Burning Legion?" "That is correct," Varulva replied. "For the Horde!" "Well, we have enough people in command here at the Stairs of Destiny," Orion said. "Talk to Vlagga Freyfeather over there, she will put you on a wind rider to Thrallmar, I'm sure Nazgrel will find something to do for you." He signed the papers that Warlord Dar'toon had given her. "Welcome home," he joked. The flight to Thrallmar left Varulva thinking. She missed the presence of the spirits badly, but at least she still had their gifts. She looked down on the barren plains of Hellfire Peninsula. The place had become infested with demons and their ilk. Infernals, dreadlords, succubi, felguards, even new kinds of demons she hadn't seen yet. It angered her to see a place so defiled by demonic presence, and she vowed to do everything she could to restore the spirits to this world. Everything fit together in the Order of Things, except demons. Demons just wanted to upset the Order, and she would fight them for all eternity for that if she could. With her eagle-sharp eyes she saw every single little detail on the dead ground. She might not have the immersion in the spirits of the wild, but she would not give up. She swore on her own life that she would rid Outland of this foul invasion, even if it meant her death. Finally she saw an orc tower in the horizon. That had to be Thrallmar, another place named after a legendary Warchief. That was the way things were supposed to be, honoring the spirits and their ancestors. Warchief Thrall was a living legend already and certainly deserved having the forward base of the Horde in Outland named after him, just as he had named the capital of the new orc homelands, Orgrimmar, after his predecessor. And now the time had come to reclaim their old homeworld, ripped apart by demonic magic, the same magic that had forced the Horde into Azeroth, where it had caused much misery before it had been beaten. And now Varulva, daughter of Rokar, was here to redeem her kin. She looked forward to it. Her mouth watered at the prospect of slaughter. Edited by Fremskritt, Jun 9 2008, 02:21 PM.


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