Post by Monday
((
storybook))
Brother Walker collapsed into a chair. “Your friend,” he said, “was possessed.”
Funden frowned at Thorgrim, who was now sleeping peacefully, and glanced back up at Brother Walker. “Possessed? By what?”
“To be honest with you, I have no idea.”
Funden’s frown deepened as he stood and collapsed in a nearby chair, the adrenaline rush having worn him out. “It has to be a demon of some sort, or perhaps a banshee, if it was driven out by an icon o’ th’ Light,” he said thoughtfully. “Although I didn’t think any o’ th’ Illidari were left here after th’ war.”
“There aren’t. That’s the problem,” Walker said, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands. “And since the Legion’s gates have been shut, there aren’t any Legion demons coming through here either. The only ones come through two gates we haven’t managed to touch, and all of those demons go right for the Dark Portal. I’m lost as to what could have been possessing him... and why. Why hold up this inn when “it” knew that you were keeping a close eye on Thorgrim. Why hold it up and demand to leave? Why not just sneak out?” He shook his head and glanced around at the rest of the people int he room, frowning slightly. “Why shoot a random man? One of our priestesses is watching him now,” Walker said, gesturing at the man who was shot. A woman in long white robes knelt over him, murmuring under her breath. Light flowed from her hands into the man, stabilizing his wounds. “He isn’t dead, thank the Light, though I don’t know how. Lucky. Thorgrim might be able to leave without being knifed in his sleep now.”
“Nobody,” Funden said flatly, “Nobody, will get near Thorgrim with th’ intent to harm. I’ll kill ‘em meself if I have to.”
Walker held up a hand. “I wasn’t saying that they might, or even that they deserved it. Calm down. You probably should be making plans to leave if you can though.”
Funden nodded absently, glancing out the window to the west. A large, black, spiky building loomed over the horizon, exuding an aura of menace and hatred. “We didn’ even plan on coming to Outland in th’ first place,” he said, still looking out the window. “And we didn’t have plans to come to Honor Hold. But now tha’ we’re here...” He let the sentence trail off.
“You’re going to check out Hellfire Citadel,” Walker finished. “Because of what Thorgrim said. It’s a trap, Funden.”
Funden rolled his eyes and looked back at the priest. “I’d never be able to tell,” he said, laying the sarcasm on thick. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s a trap, fer sure, but if we survive through it, we’ll be tha’ much closer to discovering who the hell we’re fightin’. I’m gettin’ tired of being assaulted by dreadlords and demons without knowin’ why.”
“Dreadlords?” Walker asked, surprised. “You didn’t say anything about a dreadlord.”
“Sure I did,” Funden said. “Just now.”
“You know what I mean,” Walker muttered, turning his face upwards and muttering under his breath.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day. We were hired to stop th’ demons who got past the blockade at the Dark Portal from gettin’ into th’ rest o’ Azeroth. We stopped them before they could enter th’ Swamp, but just after we finished them off, we were assaulted by our good friend, Vas’karaz.”
“Vas’karaz,” Walker spat, literally turning and spitting on the floor, before looking mortified and grabbing a cloth from a nearby table and wiping it off. “He’s back?”
“Well,” Funden shrugged. “Thorgrim
did shoot ‘im in the dead with explodin’ rounds, but I doubt that’s enough to stop a dreadlord like tha’.”
“Indeed,” Walker murmured, stroking his chin, which was overrun by grey hairs, thoughtfully. “No, that’s not enough to stop a dreadlord at all, much less a powerful one. I was thinking that he might have possessed Thorgrim, but whatever was in your friend was driven out too easily.”
Funden shook his head and stood. “Sittin’ here talkin’ isn’t goin’ to help Thorgrim or solve this mystery. While it was good to catch up, I need to be off.”
“Why?” asked Walker, standing as well. “Why are you so concerned.”
Funden didn’t look at him, and dropped his voice to a whisper, half speaking to himself. “They hurt me team. Nobody hurts me team without me hurtin’ them back.”
“Then let me come with you,” Walker said, clapping Funden on the shoulder. “I can help.”
Funden sent a smile the priest’s way. “I’d be glad to have you among us, Brother Walker. Welcome to the team.”
Several hours later, Fjarn, who had been fetched from Nethergarde, Khaz, Funden and Walker stood on the ridge, hidden from view by the large wrecked siege machine, a large, burned out hulk, looking vaguely like a tower. Thorgrim stood with them as well, having no recollection of events beyond getting past the Pit Commander. Walker theorized that he had no memories because it was a foreign consciousness that was in control, intercepting the brain signals, stopping the dwarf from forming any memories or receiving any sensory stimulation, such as seeing or hearing, without those signals being redirected to the possessor.
“How to get in?” Funden muttered. “And what part of the Citadel are they in? I don’t like it. There’s too many entrances to watch, and we don’t even know where they are. If we walk through any o’ those doors, we’re practically wavin’ a sign over our heads sayin’ ‘HERE WE ARE! COME KILL US!’”
Khaz regarded the doors carefully, murmuring to himself. Eventually, he looked back up. “I’m fairly sure they’ll be in the Blood Furnace.”
Funden frowned at Khaz. “Why do ye say that?”
“Simple,” Khaz replied, holding up a hand and ticking off fingers. “One: The Ramparts are the most easily observed, and are for military purposes only. So far, this seems to be a covert operation to me, almost no foot soldiers beyond the ones we combated at the gates. The Pit Lord didn’t seem to take kindly to the thing that kidnapped Thorgrim either, meaning they aren’t Legion. Two: The Shattered Halls will be the most watched by the others, being the stronghold of Bladefist. The orcs will probably want it for historical purposes. That leaves the Blood Furnace, which was the scientific and magical center of the Citadel, but often overlooked by the others in importance. It’s easily fortifiable, has equipment for creating new fel orcs in it already, and has the taint of fel magic in it already.”
“Perfect,” Funden grinned, clapping Khaz on the shoulder. “Good thinkin’.”
Khaz nodded, eyes fixed steadily on the path in front of them. “I say we move now.” He started forward, and for all the armor that he wore, he moved silently, putting the others dwarves to shame. Walker and Funden kept to similar levels of silence, but Fjarn and Thorgrim were both loud, clumping and clanking, causing Khaz to grimace. He held out a hand, and they all stopped. Funden continued onward, and was soon crouched next to Khaz.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“Up ahead,” Khaz gestured slightly. Funden pulled out his rifle and set it to his shoulder, looking through the scope. There, ahead of him, stood three fel orcs, each clad in heavy plate armor anc carrying axes and maces. He lowered the rifle.
“Fel orcs,” he grunted. “What are they doin’ ‘ere?”
Khaz shrugged. “I don’t know, but it means we’re on the right track. I say we assault the Furnace and see what we can find.”
“I agree with yerself, Khaz,” Funden said, raising the rifle again. “Call th’ others over. I’ll deal with these three.” Khaz turned and hurried over to the remaining three, beckoning them over, when three cracks split the air. Khaz returned with Fjarn, Thorgrim and Walker to see three dead fel orcs and Funden casually reloading his rifle. “Amateur guards,” Funden grumbled at them. The sound of hurried steps and yells turned their attention to the hallway ahead. “Go, Fjarn, head ‘em off. Khaz, go with ‘im. I’ll back ye up.”
Fjarn unslung his hammer and charged forward, Khaz just behind him, unsheathing his sword and holding it in one hand. Ahead of them, twelve fel orcs rounded the corner. Fjarn immediately smacked one into the wall contemptuously, the hammer crumpling his breastplate and cracking the ribs within. He immediately spun, parrying a heavy axe blow on the haft of his hammer, and Khaz slipped in under the orc, slicing open his stomach with the edge of his sword.
Khaz brought his sword up as he straightened, blocking an axe blow. He slid the sword around, spinning the spear and ripping it from the orc’s hand. He stabbed forward, burying the blade in the orc’s chest, and ripped it out, spinning to see a mace heading straight for his face. He attempted to dodge, but a CRACK split the air. The orc holding the mace jerked as his blood spattered along the wall from the ruin of his head, and he collapsed into a heap.
Funden calmly placed the scope to his eye again and sought another target, an orc who was stabbing at Fjarn’s back, and blowing that one’s chest out. The orc tried to scream, whether in pain, rage or surprise, Funden didn’t know, but no sound came out, and eventually he collapsed.
Fjarn brought his hammer around and struck an orc, shattering his axe and propelling him several feet into a nearby wall, and spun with the hammer, catching another orc in the face on the backswing.
In a matter of moments, all twelve orcs lay dead. Khaz flicked the blood off of his sword and wiped it off on a nearby orc, then returned it to it’s sheath. Funden reloaded his rifle, while Fjarn returned his hammer to its strap on his back. Walker regarded the dead orcs for a moment, then knelt down and murmured a prayer over them.
“Why’d ye say a prayer fer dead orcs? They’re close to bein’ demons themselves,” Funden said, frowning at the priest.
“All deserve redemption, if not in this life, then after,” Walker said, standing and nodding at the dwarf. Funden shrugged and turned away, then glanced back in shock as the gate behind them slammed shut.
Khaz’s sword was in his hand, and Fjarn’s mace was off his back in moments. “Looks like we’re trapped inside,” Khaz said. “There’s one other way out, but it means we need to get down to the bottom.”
“Why not have me blow it open?” Thorgrim asked.
“Ye can’t,” Funden said, shaking his head. “Ye might destabilize the floor. Remember, we’re in a buildin’ that we can’t have fallin’ in on us. We’re trapped, fer the moment. Khaz, lead on.”
With the red light of Outland shining in behind them, they started forward.