Aquizit
07-28-2006, 11:54 PM
"Ah'll be headin' t'th'Blasted Lands, seein' as tha's where th'Burnin' Legion be hangin' around.. mayhap ah'll learn semthin'.. Seein' as tha' warlock tha' seems t'be connected t'Turen gets his power from them beasts.." Captain Pylith Thunderfist's voice rang out clear over the gnomebox, little talkboxes that all members of the Ironforge Regiment carried around with them at all times. Pylith's was attached to his tabard, right next to the silver crossed hammers, the insignia worn by the five Captains. Next to that was a tiny skull, made entirely out of Truesilver, his Company insignia, that of Grimsilver.
The next voice crackled to life over the small talkbox, that of one of the relatively new Privates, Axt. "Aye ser, do wocha need t'do," his gruff reply.. It referred to the night before, when he stormed out of Bruuk's, begging Captain Varrathus, of Mithril Shield, and Axt to.. "tell Borgas ah'm sorry.. ah cannae sit aroun' an' wait!"
So there he stood, staring out into the darkness of the Twisting Nether through the Dark Portal.. Ancient gate that first allowed the Orcs onto Azeroth, created by the traitor Medivh, pawn of Sargeras.
His breath caught in his throat, and a muttered grunt ruffled the coarse hair of his beard. The portal was well guarded, far better than he had expected, and a quick look over his shoulder confirmed his worst fears.. the wandering patrols of felguards cut off his escape route. Nothing to do now except wait it out.
Things progressed slowly enough, but he remained unseen. That is until the box on his tabard crackled through again with a simple request for some aid against some horde somewhere in Azeroth. This tiny bit of noise was enough, however, as he heard the snarl of a nearby Manahound, listening to it scamper off towards the nearest group of Felguards. Thinking quickly, Pylith sprang up, throwing one of the two axes hanging off his belt at the hound. His aim was true and it stuck fast in the creature's back. As the Manahound fell to the ground though, it let out a mighty howl, alerting the patrol to his presence.
Muttering a complaint the dwarf captain sprung up, firing his rifle at the approaching attackers, catching one in the eye and felling him instantly. The blast alerted even more to his position, and even a Doomguard Captain joined in the charge. Pylith sprinted off to the side, maneuvering towards the stone portal as the pursuers chased him around in an arc, keeping his retreat blocked off.
He felt himself being pressed, with his only avenue of retreat behind him.. through the Dark Portal.. and into Outland. Of course he had heard the stories of the one last, fateful charge of the Alliance through the portal, trying to end the orc threat once and for all. Rumor had it they could still be out there, trapped, unable to return. He swallowed hard, turned, and ran hard for the opening. He'd have to take the chance, in hope of surviving.. He'd have to venture into Outland.
He broke into a headlong run, panting heavily as he shouted his final orders to his Lieutenant, Aedhamair, and the rest of the Regiment. Cries of protest and disbelief rang back over the gnomebox, begging him to turn around. He shook his head with a chuckle, shouting out another half an order before he stepped through, bringing forth a terrible screech from the box as it shorted out.. the magics of the portal proving to be too much.
He kept on running, unsure if the guard was pursuing him through the portal. Running off.. into the floating crags of the Nether.. Outland.
The next voice crackled to life over the small talkbox, that of one of the relatively new Privates, Axt. "Aye ser, do wocha need t'do," his gruff reply.. It referred to the night before, when he stormed out of Bruuk's, begging Captain Varrathus, of Mithril Shield, and Axt to.. "tell Borgas ah'm sorry.. ah cannae sit aroun' an' wait!"
So there he stood, staring out into the darkness of the Twisting Nether through the Dark Portal.. Ancient gate that first allowed the Orcs onto Azeroth, created by the traitor Medivh, pawn of Sargeras.
His breath caught in his throat, and a muttered grunt ruffled the coarse hair of his beard. The portal was well guarded, far better than he had expected, and a quick look over his shoulder confirmed his worst fears.. the wandering patrols of felguards cut off his escape route. Nothing to do now except wait it out.
Things progressed slowly enough, but he remained unseen. That is until the box on his tabard crackled through again with a simple request for some aid against some horde somewhere in Azeroth. This tiny bit of noise was enough, however, as he heard the snarl of a nearby Manahound, listening to it scamper off towards the nearest group of Felguards. Thinking quickly, Pylith sprang up, throwing one of the two axes hanging off his belt at the hound. His aim was true and it stuck fast in the creature's back. As the Manahound fell to the ground though, it let out a mighty howl, alerting the patrol to his presence.
Muttering a complaint the dwarf captain sprung up, firing his rifle at the approaching attackers, catching one in the eye and felling him instantly. The blast alerted even more to his position, and even a Doomguard Captain joined in the charge. Pylith sprinted off to the side, maneuvering towards the stone portal as the pursuers chased him around in an arc, keeping his retreat blocked off.
He felt himself being pressed, with his only avenue of retreat behind him.. through the Dark Portal.. and into Outland. Of course he had heard the stories of the one last, fateful charge of the Alliance through the portal, trying to end the orc threat once and for all. Rumor had it they could still be out there, trapped, unable to return. He swallowed hard, turned, and ran hard for the opening. He'd have to take the chance, in hope of surviving.. He'd have to venture into Outland.
He broke into a headlong run, panting heavily as he shouted his final orders to his Lieutenant, Aedhamair, and the rest of the Regiment. Cries of protest and disbelief rang back over the gnomebox, begging him to turn around. He shook his head with a chuckle, shouting out another half an order before he stepped through, bringing forth a terrible screech from the box as it shorted out.. the magics of the portal proving to be too much.
He kept on running, unsure if the guard was pursuing him through the portal. Running off.. into the floating crags of the Nether.. Outland.