Post by Monday
((
Storybook))
Black Walker proceeded toward Grim Batol at a remarkably fast pace, although Korsin was becoming agitated. Concerned, Ironbeard, who had proceeded off the top to get a drink, asked, “What’s wrong cap’n?”
Korsin grimaced. “It hasn’t been very long since we went after the Portal, but she’s been through a lot. I’d like to get some maintenance work done, and check the inner mechanisms, but I don’t dare stop here, and I don’t have the parts to do anything even if I wanted to.”
“Will she fail on us?” Ironbeard asked, anxious. “If that happens in Grim Batol, well, there wouldn’t be enough left to fill a stein.”
Korsin shook his head. “Not this soon. Probably. Unless she takes a major beating at the hands of the Hammer, she’ll be able to make it through. We could stop by New Menethil for repairs if we make it through.”
Ironbeard shrugged, set his drink down and headed back up top. Gorgron descended the stairs and sat down, taking a swig of the drink Ironbeard had left behind. Avery raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, chuckling slightly. Gorgron threw the priest a glance, and took another sip.
Korsin saw Gorgron. “You seem to have struck it up with Ironbeard pretty quick there, Gorgron,” he noted, checking a gauge as he did.
Gorgron shrugged. “No offence, but he’s the most accessible dwarf I’ve met yet. He thinks just like an orc.”
Korsin laughed. “I’m an engineer. You expect me to be like a normal dwarf? But what I was really going to say… is that perhaps we all think more alike than you think. Say that five times fast,” he told the orc, chuckling. “Also, don’t let him hear you say that. He’s had some horrible experiences with orcs, not just the Dragonmaw.”
Curious, Gorgron asked, “Like what? All he really told me was about the war here.”
Korsin shook his head. “If he hasn’t told you, it isn’t my place to tell,” he replied, reaching a hand under the dashboard and turning something. “There,” he grunted, standing up. “That should keep us going for a bit longer. Grim Batol is coming up you two. Do whatever you need to, to be prepared. Snap to it!”
Gorgron looked unconcernedly at the dwarf and took another sip from the mug. Avery couldn’t contain himself and started laughing out loud, and hurried out the door. Gorgron turned to look at the priest questioningly, and Korsin couldn’t help but grin. Shrugging, the orc sat back against his chair and closed his eyes.
Avery came down the stairs, now composed, but a twinkle remained in his eyes. “I am ready Korsin,” the priest told him.
Gorgron nodded, eyes still closed. “As am I.”
Korsin nodded. “Ironbeard’s always ready, so I think we all are. Grim Batol is just over this rise. You can see the tip of the mountain itself.” Gorgron opened his eyes, and noticed the dwarf was right.
Black Walker crested the rise, and before them stood the former gates of Grim Batol, now destroyed and charred from the fighting that took place. The walker passed in between the gates, and to their right, the actual gates of the once great Wildhammer city rose up.
“Be prepared, somethin’ is going to try and get us fer sure,” Ironbeard called down. “Gorgron, come up ‘n’ watch my six. I don’t fancy some cultist shootin’ me in th’ back.” Gorgron proceeded up the stairs, and Ironbeard waved him over to the railing. “Notice th’ doors are open, but there aren’t any guards? Cult though they might be, th’ Hammer aren’t that stupid. They’re a regular ol’ war machine they are, and they haven’t acted this stupid before.”
Gorgron inspected the gates. “You’re right… but I’m not sure what this signifies. Either they’ve abandoned Grim Batol, which I highly doubt, residual power and sentimental value, or something’s got to them. What it is though…”
“Aye,” replied Ironbeard. “I’m thinkin’ that we should –“ His words were interrupted as a huge tentacle burst from the ground. It was long, at least thirty feet, covered in noisome red pustules, each of which had a large spine protruding from it.
“We’re under attack!” bellowed Gorgron. Korsin must have been pretty observant, for before he had finished speaking, all guns were trained on the tentacle, and opened fire. The tentacle shuddered from the combined weight of the incendiary rounds (the kind most favored by Korsin), and disintegrated.
Gorgron waited with baited breath… and nothing happened.
“Too random,” murmured Ironbeard. “That must ‘ave been a distraction… or somethin’!”
Gorgron narrowed his eyes. “Under the walker. What if something’s down there?”
Ironbeard’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell,” he grunted. “You may be right. Hold this.” He thrust his rifle at Gorgron, and grabbed his axe, and started climbing down the side of the moving walker, moving as quietly as he could. It wouldn’t matter too much, as the constant stomping, clanking and hissing covered up any noise beyond the particularly loud ones.
Swinging under the walker, Ironbeard recoiled, and thanked Khaz’goroth for his bloody luck. A large bundle of tentacles, eyes and mouths was attached to the bottom of the walker, and as he watched, several of the tentacles started probing the walker, and one burrowed inside.
Ironbeard sighed quietly.
Why do I get the creepy ones?” he thought, and lopped off the tentacle, immediately bringing his axe around one handed for another swipe at the thing. It let out a piercing scream, and whipped a tentacle at Ironbeard, who couldn’t do much to dodge. His second swipe took it through the body, and he discovered it had no bones at the same second he was knocked bodily off the walker.
Gorgron saw Ironbeard tumble off the side, and yelled out in fury, jumping off the side. Seeing the thing huddled underneath, he torched it with a lightning bolt, and turned to run to Ironbeard.
The thing sizzled and popped in a disgusting array of blood and mucus, but Gorgron didn’t notice. Bending down, he lifted the dwarf. “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously. Ironbeard opened his eyes slowly, and saw Gorgron. Pushing himself up slightly, he lifted a fist and punched the orc in the jaw, knocking him over.
“Don’t lift me up,” he scolded, standing and grabbing his rifle from the orc. “Now stand up, we ain’t got all day.”
Dazed, Gorgron stood up. “What was that for?” he asked angrily.
Ironbeard rolled his eyes. “Please. Liftin’ a dwarf like a child? Bad idea.” Gorgron considered the dwarf for a moment, and nodded. “Very well. I shall not do it again. Unless you need it. Now what? We’re stuck, the walker has moved on, and I don’t think they even heard us beyond my lightning bolt, prompting them to move faster.”
Ironbeard got a twinkle in his eye, and grinned slowly. “Now… we investigate Grim Batol. And by investigate, I mean discover why it seems to be empty, then kill everything inside. The other’s can get to Stormwind easily enough, and I suspect both places need us…”
Gorgron nodded, and the two proceeded to the gates of Grim Batol.
Black Walker stopped in New Menethil, and Korsin started up top. “Gorgron, Ironbeard, I’ll need you to… what?” He stopped, confused. The top was empty, and the pair’s equipment was missing. “Oh no.”
Avery followed Korsin up, and winced. “I know you are in pain brother, but haste is necessary! Gorgron and Ironbeard’s souls are surely in paradise right now.”
Korsin turned on the priest, enraged. “They’re still alive, priest!”
Avery shrugged. “Perhaps. But we must hurry!” Just then, the mechanic came up on deck. “Sirs, the Walker is in no need of repair. There was a hole in the bottom that I fixed, but that’s it. The mage has made a portal for you to Stormwind. Light’s hope go with you in helping anyone still left in the shattered lands south of here.”
Korsin nodded, tears brimming, and took the controls, steering them through into Stormwind.