World of Warcraft fanfiction is a sketchy thing indeed, but no matter.
Anyway, I wrote some more while I was in Germany, and I’ve finally gotten around reworking my notes. All I ask of you is some pointers for the battle scene. Is it possible to follow? Do you get an idea of how it looks? How many important things have I forgotten or messed up?
The story is a sequel to this one, in case you’re curious. You’d think everyone involved would chose not to ever set foot in a jungle again, but there you go.
The humidity made his leather armor feel like it was glued to his skin. It probably didn’t smell very nice either, but Rohdjinn had passed the stage where he took note of that several days ago. He might consider jumping into the ocean when he returned to Grom’gol together with his companions, but that would be more for the refreshing feel of it than to actually clean himself. Really, when out this long in the jungle, it didn’t matter much. Not that trolls were that specific about washing everyday, though the waves back home in Sen’jin did invite for swims.
Though if he thought about it, getting rid of the mud would probably be a good idea. It smothered his hair down still, full of twigs and leaves – which was the idea – but most of it had flaked off his skin by now. He grinned at the thought.
The young troll slipped into the thick foliage surrounding a tree, where he could rest for a moment and have a drink of water in peace.
Not that he considered himself the romantic kind, but there was definitely something special about being in these lands, where trolls had once reigned supreme.
Of course, that feeling would only last for as long as you avoided ending up on those trolls’ dinner plate, but anyway.
He had never been this far out before, not until his teacher decided that a few more Stranglethorn raptors would add to the breeding program in Sen’jin. Apparently this was also a great opportunity to give two of his students a small tour of the world, and off Rohdjinn was to the other continent. He certainly didn’t complain. Not only was it a grand trip for him, but the other student coming along was this <I>quite</I> pretty young woman named Dosha.
Oh, and he had never before realized how much he liked his bright red hair.
<I>“That won’t do out here, mon. Into da mud, both of ya!”</I>
Dosha’s greenish hair, which would not stand out against the green landscape, technically did not demand for camouflage. But what’s to hinder a couple of freshly adult-age trolls from mud wrestling, especially when they’re kindly ordered to?
Rohdjinn grinned to himself, having to muffle a burst of laughter as he recalled the blood elf who had happened to come walking by the river. Remembering the look on her face forced him to bite his knuckles to keep from laughing – and he could only imagine what her expression had been like when their teacher noticed her and leaped into the mud to join his students. At that point Rohdjinn got himself face first in the muck however, and when he – howling with laughter – got up again, the lithe lady had opted for leaving in a huff.
And now he was out here on his own for the first time. Just a short scouting trip to make sure the area was safe, and with strict orders to stay out of trouble. The freedom felt nice, but even better when spiced with that kind of responsibility. Rohdjinn was no fool – the area was dangerous and he knew to respect that. However, so far he had not seen anything more threatening than a sunbathing snake. Disregarding the fact that it had been thicker than his leg and probably poisonous... nothing to make a fuzz about. He would go back to their small camp soon, but no reason to waste a chance for a short break.
The shadows felt nice, and there was a slight breeze whispering through the green world. Birds chirped and squawked among the rustling leaves, and the air smelt of flowers and the thick sweetness of half rotten fruit. But the latter was distant, and not too much of a bother.
Rohdjinn smiled to himself, lazily spying on a couple of parrots flapping between two trees.
The pleasant peace of the jungle broke when somebody cried out.
Rohdjinn barely had time to straighten up before another shout followed the first, and the not too distant shout grew into the familiar choir of noises from a battle starting. Frowning, the troll fastened the water sack at his belt and crawled through the undergrowth on all fours. The fight was going on nearby, but he felt quite sure that none of those who cried out were his companions. Humanoids’ voices for sure, but not ones he knew.
He spied movement ahead and crept closer still, peeking out between the huge leaves of a bush. The ground tipped downwards just a little bit, giving him a vantage point.
Three human men were fighting five jungle trolls – Skullsplitters judging by their face paint and the general area.
Not a good fight to be on the wrong side in.
Rohdjinn only watched with some interest as the humans got their asses handed to them. The thought to aid them never crossed his mind – he did not like Skullsplitters, but neither did he like humans, and each one of the trolls down there was bigger than him.
What were humans doing in this area, anyway? Technically this part of Stranglethorn belonged to the Skullsplitter tribe – even if he had not seen any of them this far north before. But in terms of world factions, it was more Horde territory than Alliance, thanks to Grom’gol being so close by. Had the three men wandered so far off the road because they feared Horde patrols? Or to fulfill some suicide mission given to them in Booty Bay?
Or were they just stupid?
Whichever the case, they were all dead men.
Rohdjinn had not seen many humans before, a fact he did not complain about. In this situation it only meant that he could not quite tell what kind of warriors they were. Their armor was light, suited for the jungle, but there were considerable amounts of metal protecting them. All three used shields, two swords and one a mace – which in compare to an orc’s warhammer looked like a toy.
Squinting, the troll thought that he could see the outline of some symbol on the mace-wielder’s chestplate, but then the man received a blow from behind and fell face first into the ground. He tried to get up, but a Skullsplitter kicked him over and while he was still trying to recover from that, a huge blue foot came down on his chest, knocking all air out of him.
The other two were doing no better. One lost focus while trying to slice at his attackers, only to find his shield grabbed and violently twisted. He went down, rolling and letting go of the shield desperately. A Skullsplitter raised its dagger high, but somehow the human stumbled aside and the weapon only hit one of the bags by his belt. Cloth ripped, the troll snarled and tore the weapon right back up while the contents of the bag spilled into the lush vegetation. This time, the human was not so lucky. The Skullsplitter grabbed the man’s sword arm and, with a vicious grin, stabbed the dagger into the area beneath the hanging shoulder panzer.
The man’s face twisted, he cried out in agony and the sword fell out of his grip. Still grinning, the Skullsplitter twisted the dagger out of the arm and threw the man to the ground.
“Ow,” Rohdjinn muttered to himself.
He caught sight of a golden glow around the man’s left hand, but unfortunately for the human, the other trolls noticed it too. The had-to-be-a-paladin-then got roughly pulled up on his feet, and the pain itself killed off his attempt to heal himself. The troll holding his arms still gave him a few good rattles to be on the safe side, until he slumped, groaning.
The last human standing held out for about three more seconds before sheer numbers and much bigger muscles beat him down. His arm was caught and twisted out of his hand, moments before he lost his shield as well. He still twisted and cursed, until a dagger at his throat silenced him.
That first unlucky bugger was finally allowed to move, but only so much that he too found himself standing with both arms wrung up behind his back. The Skullsplitters chuckled cruelly amongst one another while the humans exchanged wild glances.
Not a bad battle. Most of the trolls had avoided getting hurt at all because it had been so quick, and those who were wounded only had scratches that would heal quick enough.
Rohdjinn almost felt a little sorry for the humans. Poor, pathetic threesome.
One of the Skullsplitters not holding a prisoner took a rope from his simple belt and moved towards the wounded human. However, he stopped and looked down.
A huge blue hand swooped into the low undergrowth covering the ground, grabbing at something. Thinking back, Rohdjinn figured that it had to be the items fallen from the paladin’s bag.
Straightening, the Skullsplitter shook his hand and picked among his finds, scattering little things all around. Then suddenly he snarled, but it sounded just as surprised as angry. The others bent or moved closer to see, all raising fleshy eyebrows and a couple of them grunting out curses.
The investigating troll lowered his hand, letting the human have a look. Instantly the little man bared his teeth, twisting in his captor’s grip and grinding out what had to be quite colorful swear words judging by his tone.
Chortling wickedly, the troll dropped whatever it was and stomped on it. The human roared, but the cry was cut off suddenly when one of the other trolls knocked him unconscious with a simple club to the head.
If not for the Skullsplitter holding him, the human would have fallen to the ground. The other two men simply had their hands tied in front of them, but the trolls seemed too amused with the first human to let him get away so easily. Rohdjinn watched with only a little disbelief as the Skullsplitters tied the man’s wrists and ankles to a spear. Two of them then lifted the weapon, carrying him as if he was a captured beast. The man did not stir during any of it.
All of the Skullsplitters seemed to find it hilarious, even more so since the man’s friends looked on with such disgusted horror. The cruelty made sense, really – those trolls really could only have one reason to capture the humans alive.
Fresh meat.
Prods with clubs and crude daggers forced the humans along as the trolls began moving. Rohdjinn watched, patiently waiting for them to get out of sight.
They headed off through the jungle, almost in the same direction he had planned to go later. Having scouted the area Rohdjinn could take a guess at where they were going, and if he was right, then they would not get anywhere near the camp. Still, it was too dangerous to take a chance about that. Once he felt certain that the hunting party were gone, he slipped out of his hiding place and down the hill. Just following them for a little bit would let him know if he needed to run ahead and warn his friends.
When he crossed the battlefield however, a lump of bright colors caught his eye. Despite feeling that he needed to make sure where the enemies were going, he wasted a curious glance. As it would turn out, this led to a much longer pause than he had planned.
Among the leaves and flowers of the ground laid the paladin’s scattered belongings. A few dull scales of some lizard, a couple of torn pages from a book… other little useless things Rohdjinn did not take note of. His gaze was drawn to what without a doubt was the thing that had drawn such interest from the Skullsplitters.
It was a small totem. The feathers were ruffled and broken, the twig holding the mask snapped, and the mask itself broken in two. Rohdjinn would not even have taken note of it if he had not at first glance seen that it was not a Skullsplitter totem, but a Darkspear one. The design was too familiar to him to avoid notice.
Frowning, he bent down and scooped up the broken remains.
On the backside of the mask letters had been carefully scratched into the wood, almost as clearly as the day the totem had been made. The owner must have treated it with care, unlike the Skullsplitter who had stomped on it.
The light was not well suited for reading, not with the leaves sending thick, dancing shadows over the entire world beneath the treetops. Even as he squinted and made out the writing word by word, Rohdjinn’s initial thought was that he must be mistaken.
But the writing was definitely there.
<I>Do not kill this human, for he has helped a Darkspear. – Raptor charmer Vo’don</I>
The young troll reread the short text, squinting even more.
It refused to change.
Muttering a curse Rohdjinn dashed into the jungle, slowing down only when he suspected being close enough to the Skullsplitters and their prisoners. Then he moved with more care, but still nimbly through the vegetation with all senses alert.
He spotted them while they moved across another area with lower foliage, while he could still hide among the huge leaves of the bushes. From there, even as they waded through the undergrowth and disappeared into the bushes, he could still tell that they turned to follow the path he had suspected they would take.
It was enough to make him certain that they would not get dangerously close to the camp, and therefore he took off towards it himself. He moved as quickly as he dared, always on guard in case there were other enemy trolls about. If there had only been the patrol to make a report about, he had not needed to hurry so much, apart from worry that there could be more enemies on the move. However, the totem in his hand put a whole new spin on everything.
Trying to move swiftly and at the same time avoiding leaving too many tracks for enemies to trace had its complications, but he did his best. Luckily, the camp was not too far off, and he slowed. Haste or no, there were more things than friendly trolls in their camp.
Breathing deeply, Rohdjinn walked out through the bushes and into the small clearing in which he had slept for the last two nights. Two trolls and two raptors glanced up at him, but only in acknowledgment.
When out catching new raptors, one should never bring a mount, and definitely not an already tamed raptor. The great lizards were intelligent, and another large animal in the vicinity – especially a prospective rival of unknown origin – could be fatal for the first, vulnerable days of building up a sense of trust.
Vo’don had said that he would not even bring a tamed raptor along even if it came from the part of the world he was going to. He had great respect for the beasts, for good reasons – experience with raptors mainly meant the experience of regrowing limbs again and again.
The totem felt heavier than it should be in Rohdjinn’s grip. Of course he knew the story about the Un’goro crater, everyone who knew Vo’don and then some had heard it because it was just that crazy. But deep down, the young troll felt that maybe he hadn’t actually believed it before.
Perhaps it had not been the best course of action not to help the humans, but how would he have known?
“See anything good, mon?” Vo’don said without looking at Rohdjinn. Instead, he kept brushing his hand over the raptor’s neck, hissing softly. The big lizard’s tail lazily swung back and forth, thin front arms scratching the air in delight when Vo’don found some itchy spot the beast never had been able to scratch on her own.
A little ways away Dosha busied herself with their second raptor, this one found a few days ago. Vo’don had not let his two students close to it before he had established a connection to it over the course of several hours. This despite the fact that neither Dosha nor Rohdjinn were inexperienced with the great lizards, nor battle. But Vo’don had spent years raising and gathering raptors, and his decisions were not questioned by the other two trolls.
Dosha’s hissing did not sound as fluid as Vo’don’s, but it seemed to be enough for the raptor whose back she was rubbing. At least, it had not tried to bite off her ears from what Rohdjinn could see, and that did count for something.
Regardless, this was probably more important than the raptors getting a massage right now.
“I think you wanna look at this,” Rohdjinn said, cradling his find in both hands.
He moved carefully not to give the raptor the wrong idea, but the darn thing still gave him a suspicious look and moved as if to take a look – or bite – of the young troll. Probably thinking that there might be something edible being offered. Vo’don brushed her head aside, murmuring at her. Only when the lizard had understood that it was not snack time, Vo’don bent closer to Rohdjinn to have a look.
The mildly curious expression swept away from the older troll’s face, and he snatched the broken item so quickly that the raptor gave him a questioning look. Dosha, too, looked up with some surprise. Vo’don ignored all of them, his fingers tinkering with what he held. Eyes thinning, he turned the broken pieces over and read the inscription on the backside.
“Where’d you find this?” he demanded, sharply looking up.
Rohdjinn really had no idea what to expect as he quickly told his story, watching his teacher’s eyes thin for every other sentence. Soon Dosha was listening as well, though she tried to return her attention to her raptor every now and then.
Finally, gazing in the direction that Rohdjinn pointed, Vo’don let out a low, growling sigh.
“See, Roh,” he said, looking up briefly. “I think I gotta teach you an important lesson, and you better do it right da first time.”
“What?” the young troll said, curiously watching his teacher.
Vo’don narrowed his eyes at the jungle, absentmindedly stroking the raptor’s side.
“Living bait,” he said, left hand clenching around the remains of the totem.
Now that you’ve read the text, did that spear the paladin got tied to seem to come out of subspace? Need more details about the camp? I’m trying to weigh out a fear of over-describing things because it’s a common mistake I see (“his chocolate orbs blinked lazily behind golden-brown bangs” and all that rot), but maybe I’m overdoing it.
On that tangent, let’s finish off by making fun of Mary-Sues.
“I was never in the camps. I am of the Frostwolf clan,” the orc calmly said.
“You speak Common like it was your mother tongue. Ah-” Thomas stopped himself and winced as he realized that maybe that was not a compliment in the orc’s view. But Dor’ash did not give him an unfriendly look.
“Wait, I’ve got this one,” Sarah said, holding up the fingers of her right hand and counting them down – and back up – as she spoke. “His third cousin twice removed’s brother-in-law has an adopted daughter whose aunt’s second husband’s teacher’s hunting partner’s brother married the granddaughter of a distant cousin to Thrall’s grandfather.”
It didn’t help that she didn’t have to pause even for breath.
While the humans just blinked – and the trolls, who hadn’t understood half of that only watched the humans’ expressions with some curiosity – Dor’ash stared at nothing and counted on his own fingers for a few moments.
“That distant cousin was one thrice removed,” he finally said. “Otherwise you got it all.”
“You know you’ve gotta tote it out to the world that you’re so special for kinda sorta being related to Thrall.” Sarah picked at one of the black braids hanging down the orc’s back, then seemed to glance at the others. “Now bow down, you’re almost in the presence of orc royalty.”
And then they all got killed by nelves.
I appreciate it!
(Why yes, I’ve been gorging on lore, thanks for asking.) And then there’s Illidan whose villainy stems from loosing the battle for Tyrande’s heart to his sleepyass brother. And Arthas and Kael’thas have that “Are you angry because I stole Jaina from you?”/“You have taken everything I loved!” exchange and…