Level 16 – Journey to Orgrimmar (part II.)
Alright, so I promised this ‘tomorrow’ and that was on…Monday? And it’s Saturday. Life got in the way – and besides the servers are down so much right now I can barely get in to take screenshots. And my paladin is taking up a lot of my time when I do. And DDO went free-to-play so I’ve been testing out a cleric there. And I’m doing a lot of reading preparatory to go back to university. And and and….yeah. Enjoy! 
Standing in the entrance to the city, the blood elf surveyed the scene with narrowed eyes and a pursed mouth. Before her, a bustle of activity opened up – a hill sloping down to a gentle valley, with several squat, stone and timber buildings hunched broodingly in the centre. The most prominent of them appeared to be a bank, judging by the heavily-armoured orcs looming outside it, with a huge cluster of people gathered around a post box outside, busily checking their mail and conducting transactions. Behind it reared a huge tower, rising to a height of perhaps two hundred feet over the city, with a zeppelin tethered at the top, mooring ropes swaying gently in the breeze. On the top deck of the tower several gryphons flapped their wings lazily, as people paid for their rides and hopped on board. Huge spiky plants sprouted up everywhere.
Before her was a huge timber pole, with an ugly dragon head impaled on the top of it. Treading gingerly so as not to step in anything nasty – there was red, thick dust all over the floor, the same kind as had clung to the hem of her robe outside the city, as well as worse stuff – the priestess made her way down the main thoroughfare. People hustled around her from all sides – a squat, bald, female orc, with broken teeth – several Forsaken, moving as a group and looking around distrustfully – a troll, with huge tusks and a pink mohican, begging scraps from passers-by in the gutter – and the range of smells that assaulted the girl’s senses was almost too much to bear. Smoke and heat poured from a huge bonfire that burned in the square before the bank, the smell of roasting meat wafted out of what appeared to be an inn, and the stench of the gutters was almost overpowering. Farfalla gritted her teeth and kept moving as a brusque tauren, almost seven feet tall and reeking of beer, staggered out of the inn and into her path, barely noticing as she dodged his outstretched arm and grunting an apology as she moved on.
Realising she didn’t know where she was going – she had a map, but it didn’t show where the Warchief would be – the young woman sighed. She was going to have to ask one of these…people for directions. Casting her eyes around, her gaze alighted on a female orc, standing at one side of a big archway beyond which darkness loomed. Making her way towards her, the girl caught her eye and smiled, only to be met with a dull, uninterested stare from the creature’s red eyes. Cursing her luck – chances were she’d met the one guard in the city that would show an unnatural interest in what she wanted with the Warchief – she was surprised to find that on asking her question, the orc just grunted and motioned with her hand to the path behind her, the one that led into the inky murkiness and chill of the covered area of the city.
It didn’t exactly look safe. Comforting herself with the thought that people at least knew where she was – not people that cared about her, granted, since it was the Dark Lady and not anyone close to her – and would notice when she didn’t return, or at least send word, the girl stepped into the covered walkway. Instantly it was cooler – much cooler, and much more comfortable for the elf. It was quieter, too, with less people around – the noise of the main square seemed to be dulled somehow. Swallowing, the girl headed down the path, making towards the archway she could see at the end of it. People in here seemed to be interested in her presence – a couple of times she felt, rather than saw, shadowy figures in the doorways of the huts she was passing – much more so than they had been outside. The priestess walked a little faster.
Coming to the end of the shady cavern was not exactly comforting. Before her was a heavily fortified castle. Like all the other buildings in the city it was built squat and close to the ground, with iron struts and timber supporting the roof, and one single, narrow, point of entry, with the banner of the Horde flying on either side, and more of those iron braziers. The path up to the doorway was framed by a shop on one side, and a huge black…thing, on the other. What was it, a tree? A skeleton? Curious, the girl headed towards it and found that it was indeed a tree, with some huge kind of armour hanging from it. Before it was a plaque.
These demon plates were worn by the creature that first cursed our people with bloodlust. By the heroic act of one brave orc – he was defeated. Mannoroth the Destructor is no more. Let these plates always remind us of how far we’ve come and how hard we fought to regain our honor.
- Thrall, Warchief of the Horde
So one of these orcs could take out something that size? However unwillingly, the girl was impressed, and more than a little intimidated. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she carried on up the path towards the fortress.
Expecting to be stopped by the guards outside, she was surprised when she was just waved through. Either someone was expecting her, or she was deemed unimportant enough to be a threat. Judging by the sheer number of people inside the building, Farfalla rather suspected the latter option was the accurate one. They were everywhere – trolls, orcs, a tauren or two – and they appeared to be of all persuasions. Some of them were carrying menacing-looking axes and patrolling, whereas others were clustered around tables piled with books, or talking quietly. Nobody looked at her. She was utterly unimportant.
Passing into the main chamber, the reason for her free passage was quickly made clear. There were other Sin’dorei in there – three of them, Blood Knights by the look of it, to the right of the room. To the left was another, a Magister, this one female, who gave the girl an encouraging smile. More of the orcs with axes were stationed in the room – dotted around the perimeter. And in the middle was a huge throne, on a plinth, on top of which was sat another orc.
It could only be Thrall. The power crackled off him, even for Farfalla, a priest, who had nothing to do with elemental magic. And what a different picture he painted than Sylvanas. Where she was hunched and brooding, Thrall sat up straight, surveying the room around him with a calm look on his face. He commanded the authority of everyone in the room, that much was obvious – even the other blood elves were in awe of him. And now he was looking straight at her.
Approaching the throne, Farfalla prepared to perform her obeisance, but the gruff voice of the man stopped her in her tracks. ‘You’ve come to see me, blood elf? Speak and be quick. I’ve no time for the formalities of your race.’
Deciding silence was the best option, the girl stepped forwards and handed over the letter bearing Sylvanas’ seal. The orc took it with a grunt. ‘Sylvanas is a persistent one. So she’s sent one of Silvermoon’s own champions… how does this change anything?’ Breaking it open, he began to read it. Making eye contact with the blood elf standing next to Thrall’s throne, and noting the warning look in her eyes, the girl knelt, despite Thrall’s previous command. He was still reading the letter. The silence in the room was deafening – everyone seemed to be holding their breath.
Finally, he looked up. And then he stood up, motioning that Farfalla should do the same. She did so, still not quite daring to look him in the eye.
‘Your people suffered a great betrayal by the Alliance, You’ve succeeded in fending off Darnassian attacks as well as spies from Ironforge. Now you’ve defeated a powerful Scourge leader at the footsteps of your home.’ The orc paused. ‘Your worthiness is no longer in question. It is now apparent that you need us and we need you. Return to Lor’themar. Tell him I received his message loud and clear.’ Crushing the letter in the palm of his hand, the orc grinned at the girl, who finally dared to look him full in the face. ‘Welcome to the Horde, elf.’
The tension in the room broke as all the blood elves sighed with relief. Leaving their position beside the throne, the Blood Knights came forward, greeting the girl in Thalassian. ‘Well done, young one. He’s not an easy man to please. Go back to our Regent directly.’
‘Yes sir,’ she muttered. Turning to leave, she came up against the same tauren she had seen before, the one who had stumbled out of the tavern and nearly knocked her over. Except this time, he was almost naked.
Wearing just a tattered loincloth, he grinned at her, the smell of beer still coming off him in waves, and slurred ‘Welcome to the Horde, elvies!’ before bursting into dance. Unfortunately, his gyrations were interrupted as the butt of an orcish axe made contact with the back of his head. As his stunned body hit the floor before her with a crash, and the guard stepped back into his place next to the throne, the girl shuddered, and then jumped as a female voice with a familiar Thalassian accent murmured in her ear.
‘We may have to get used to some of the more…earthy habits of our new allies. Off you go, girl, and well done.’ Turning to see the female magister smiling at her, Farfalla smiled, and in return received a friendly squeeze on the arm. Setting her shoulders, she stepped out of the throne room and prepared to make her long journey back home.
