I - From the Jaws

[Tashamlee]

I - From the Jawsnnn Bacuk stumbled to the ground, crashing face-down beside his comrades. His arms and legs bound, blood ran down from his head onto the frozen metal. Cries of the lost filled the air, of toil and of pain, the world did radiate. Trying to gather himself, to fight, to survive, he spent himself. Trying to raise up his head, even to shout in defiance unto the end, he felt his spirit break within his chest. In a moment of passing, a lightness left from him. Among the dying bodies of his brothers, the young orc found himself facing the great after, unsure and unprepared; certain of nothing other than its inevitability.nn He felt nothing but shadow could await him.nn Choking back a tear, the broken soul found himself lacking even the ability to resist as a festering corpse lorded over his shattered body. Terror; he could feel it so clearly, so purely, nothing but and nothing except. If only he had listened, if only he had obeyed. Had he offended the spirits so that they felt this fate fitting, this end deserved? The shaman had told him not to go; his mother had pleaded with him not to cast his life away, that her only child might live. But he was set, his path laid before him so clear that a second thought was as foreign to him as the halls of Stormwind.nn Taking his few belongings in his bag, he had left in the night, arriving with the dawn at the gates of the great city, Orgrimmar. Before dusk, his life had been forfeit unto the will of the warchief, even unto death. So sure of himself then, so strongly set upon the path of his father was he. He had always known it, somewhere in the depths of his mind, he had always known. Since stepping off the zeppelin into the besieged fortress of Warsong Hold, he had known. Since checking the saddle on his wolf and the blade on his axe, he had known. Since saluting the commander of the Horde in Northrend and riding forth across the barren land, he had known. He would follow his father, even unto death.nn And now, into death, he did.nn It had been planned.nn He had never had a chance.nn None of them ever did.nn Within sight of the gate, barely having left, the ground shook and cracked, the sides of the narrow road beginning to crumble as caverns into the dark opened to the day. Shouts of warning and shock came from the guards at the gate, the scouts on the walls crying in unison as the terrible realization of what was occurring struck them. The forty recruits panicked, their officer new and untested as well. Some tried to run, others to draw their weapons and fight. But all was for naught.nn There, in front of the gates of Warsong Hold, within an arrow's distance of the commander of the might of the Horde, the scourged nerubians rose up from the depths and, within the blink of an eye, descended, leaving only the echoes and screams of the captured recruits as evidence they ever had been.nn Bacuk knew it, his fate was sealed from the moment he set foot on this cursed land.nn Standing above him still, the visage of what could have been a smile crossed the face of the scourge, his rotted lips pulling back as puss flowed from his gums. Trying to escape the realization of what could make such a wretched thing smile, he weakly averted his head. What greeted his eyes was even more monstrous than what he had hoped to avoid.nn There beside him, not but an arms reach away, laid the lieutenant, his leader, his friend. One arm was sickly twisted, broken just below his shoulder. The other arm clutched weakly at a great syringe protruding from his chest, the plague inside emptying into his veins. With a sickening gurgle, denied even the chance at last defiance, the orc began to wretch and convulse as the plague began to ravage his body, destroying tissue and bone alike, slowly forming him into the image that he swore his life to destroy. As the convulsions slowed and the last of the orc's life passed from his broken shell, the plague doctor holding the syringe let out a long, hollow laugh. The orc's body shuddered one last time, then slowly began to dissolve to a foul-smelling acid.nn Then, collecting his tools, the doctor gazed upon Bacuk. He drew a fresh syringe from his bag.nn That same hollow sound came from the plague doctor once again, forming words instead of laughter. The lips barely moved, neither did the jaw, hung broken to the side. nn "Are you afraid, orc?"nn He stepped over the corpse and, looking at the other scourge standing guard, he motioned the corpse away. "Leave, I desire no more of your filth in my laboratory." Obediently, the corpse shambled away and through a doorway, leaving Bacuk's view.nn Returning his attention to the young orc at his feet, the doctor smiled. "Do you know what I enjoy most about my work?" Towering over him, with a full syringe in his hand, the scourged doctor felt the power and intoxication of death wash over him.nn Bacuk felt it too.nn "I enjoy watching you die, as slowly as I can manage." Raising a brow, forming an expression of mockery, the doctor raised the syringe to the orc's eyes. "Perhaps I can even prolong the experience for you?"nn"Maybe even...."nnnnnnnn And then, cutting through his words and his power like the blade of Hellscream through the chest of the pit lord, came the sound of a hundred voices in unison, crying at the top of their lungs in defiance, in power, in glory, in rage, in victory, roaring through the halls of the citadel.nnn"Lok'Tar Ogar!"

[Tashamlee]

Shaken, terrified, the plague doctor tried to turn, to face whatever now assailed him in the throne of his power. Barely beginning to turn his head, a flash consumed the room. As if in slow motion, Bacuk saw a blue light erupt from the scourge's back, bathing the room in the light of the stars as a green aura rippled through the air from his body. In the span of a second, the doctor's body shook and dissolved into the air, leaving nothing but a pale glow and the hum of the arcane behind him.nn Standing in the hall, the shattered remains of the horror at the door behind him, stood a solitary tauren, the arcane energy of the moon smoldering from his outstretched hands. Lowering his arms to his side, the druid heaved a heavy sigh and walked into the center of the room.nn Breathless, shaken, Bacuk tried to roll over, to cry for joy and love, for life and for hope. Snatched from the brink of the abyss, he still found himself too weak to move or speak. Even his attempts to lift a fist in triumph were for naught.nn Carefully surveying the room, the druid inhaled deeply, an unnatural stillness settling over the room, then let forth a cry that stirred the survivors to their souls as he lifted his hands high. nn"Warriors of the Horde, rise up and fight!"nn Then, the light returned once again, shimmering through the room like the stars of the night sky, coursing through their bones and their skin. Just as surely as his strength abandoned him in his hour of need, his strength now returned, bathed in fury and rage.nn Around the room, wounds healed shut and bones bent straight, energy coursing through the bodies of the soldiers. One by one, they managed to stand, 13 of them still alive. The last survivors were they, enraged and filled with the might of the Horde. nn Lowering his hands once again, the druid motioned towards the door. "There is little time, come."nn And with that, he turned, the space around him twisting in smoke and light as the power of nature coursed through him, emerging in the form of a lion and swiftly vanishing down the hallway. With a cry and a shout, the soldiers ran after him as fast as their legs could carry them.nn Bacuk felt his strength returning with each step he took, his hope growing in the face of the horrors to which he had been subjected. Thoughts of his leader and his fallen comrades rushed through his blood, drawing him, not to fear, but to a victorious fury, a bloodcraze of vengance for the honor of the fallen. As they chased after the elusive druid, they could hear the sounds of war, of clashing blades and clanging shields, echoing through the halls. Here, in the very heart of death, war was waged against its king.nn Coming into a great hall, vast and towering higher than any of them could see, they came upon the battle. Many legged nerubians and the towering visage of ymirjar pulsed through out the room, testing themselves against the lines of the horde. Warriors' blades flashed as the cleaved through skin, corpses erupting into flame, ice, and shadow as spellcasters wove their arts through the air of the room.nn On of the recruits, stumbling and catching his breath behind the druid, managed to let fly a question as they drew to a stop near the archway into the hall. "Druid, what is happening?"nn Reassuming the form of a Tauren, the druid turned to look around his shoulder. "What is happening?" He shook his head.nn "We are the Thirteenth Legion, pathfinders of the Horde. We are here to deliver you from the hand of death."

[Tashamlee]

But Bacuk wasn't listening, he did not hear, he did not care. Already had he reached down into the corpses littering the floor as a cheer went up from his comrades, drawing up the curved and jagged blade of a fallen ymirjar in each hand. Turning to face the battle, he let forth the mightiest scream that his weak lungs could muster, and charged into the rear lines of the scourge.nn As he drew nearer to the battle, he could feel the aura of the heroes drawing forth his strength; his courage and his rage returning to him like the prodigal son home. Drawing near, he raised a blade over his head and, catching a wretched giant unaware, sunk it deep into his neck. Twisting to draw the blade from his defeated foe, he allowed the rage of his people to consume him as he caught a second monster, once again unprepared, with his other blade.nn Bacuk lost himself into the blood rage of the orcs and there, in the midst of the battle, lacking even armor to protect himself, he cleaved through every foe that presented themselves, charging without warning or counter from one to the next, leaving nothing but the shattered remains of the dead behind him. Faintly, around him, he was aware of the battle being raged, heroes fell and were raised into undeath before being put down once again by their own comrades.nn Then, just as he swung his blades, shattering through the shield of a warrior and felling him the same, he felt a sudden rush as his feet were lifted up from the ground, an icy chill flowing over his flesh as talons wrapped themselves around his back. As his weapons fell from his freezing hands, his eyes lifted up to the sight of a ghostly val'kyr, the maiden lifting him from the battle.nn Rising above the battle raging around him, the val'kyr carried him higher. A sickening rose up from him in his throat when he realized what the maiden intended for him.nn She was going to drop him from a height he would not survive.nn Then, just as fear seized him and his blood craze began to fade, he heard a voice rise above the roar below him.nnnnnn"UNHAND MY SON!"nnnnn A shape rose up from the crash of steel below, flying through the air, an axe held high above his head. With a sickening thud, the axe sunk into the val'kyr, cleaving the horror in half at the waist. Suddenly released from her grasp, Bacuk fell to the ground, a loud shattering sound coming from his shoulder as it hit the floor.nn But then, within the flicker of a moment, a dark form towered over him, heavy armor glinting in the reflected light of fire and ice. Bacuk, defenseless, with a broken shoulder, looked up into tearful eyes.nn Amidst the battle, his father bent down, oblivious to all that was happening around him, and lifted his only son into his arms. Then without speaking a word, the orc warrior dashed through the battle, carrying his son through the weakening line of the Thirteenth Legion into the relative safety of the next hall. Barely inside, Yeagur laid his wounded son against the wall. Calling out a pair of names Bacuk did not recognize as he removed his helm, the father knelt down beside his son.

[Tashamlee]

From behind him, a pair of druids emerged, the rescuer and another, smaller and female. The female druid bent down next to Bacuk as the other stood guard, casting spells still into the fray. After examining the shoulder for a brief moment, the druid looked over to Yeagur. "It is broken beyond my ability to repair, we must get him to a healer quickly or the damage will be permanent." nn The old warrior nodded, knowing full well that the words of the druid were true. "Then we must get him out." The rescuer's voice rose over the echoes of battle, "Had he not charged into the fray, he would be safely outside with the rest of the captives." Yeagur shook his head, "But he chose to stay and fight instead. Like a true orc would."nn Something stirred inside of Bacuk as his father spoke, years of loss and yearning rising to the surface of the young orc. His father spoke of him.nn His father spoke of him.nn His father spoke well,nn Of him.nn Then, without warning, blood spouted forth as a spear drove through the smaller druid's neck. She fell to the ground, slumping onto her side with a sickening lurch as she died. Both Yeagur and the Rescuer turned abruptly to the battle, having drawn terrifyingly quiet in the past few moments.nn Hundreds of Ymirjar stood in clean ranks, the bodies of the Thirteenth Legion buried beneath the onslaught. The leader of the frost giants, towering over his followers, stood over a single tauren shaman, whose armor laid broken and shattered around him. The leader rose his spear high to strike the final blow, his army visibly leaning forward in anticipation of the kill.nn The shaman, looking up from the ground and into the eyes of the last druid, spoke as the spear fell. Bacuk felt an intimacy pass in that moment, the weakness of one reaching out to another before being snatched back into the abyss. nn "Pawene ichnee."nn And the shaman fell, dead.nn Drawing his spear from the shaman's corpse, the giant let the blood drip down onto his armor. "Did you think that you could simply take from us what you wish? Did you think that you could enter into our land and leave unbroken?" The scourge, in unison, let out a single bellowing laugh. nn "You were mistaken."

[Tashamlee]

Yeagur looked down upon his only son and, for the briefest of moments, treasured his boy. All of the years away, fighting for his people, they had all been for his son. He would give his boy a future, he would give his boy a world that he could grow up in without fear and without hatred. nn And now, he had one last thing to give.nn "Tasham'lee," Yeagur spoke. The druid, still looking out upon the waiting army, replied, "Yes, my friend?" nn "We have been through many battles together and seen many great deeds. We have done much to make this world safe, many of them may never be known to any but you and I."nn The druid nodded, still keeping his eyes on the waiting scourge.nn "Will you do me one last honor, my brother?"nn "Whatever you ask, I will do."nn "All of my life is for my son. Will you see to it that he survives this day?"nn A look of weight came over the druid, as if he were, in that moment, considering all that it would require of him.nn "Your son will never surrender his breath so long as I have mine."nn Then, Yeagur stood, taking his axe in his hand. Looking down upon his son, he smiled as only a father, assured of his son's honor and glory, could. "Son, go forth now. Hold honor to your heart and truth to your mind. Never lose hope, as I have never for you." The orc turned, drawing his great weapon up into his hands as he looked into the eyes of the waiting lord of the ymirjar.nn Tears ran down Bacuk's face as the druid bent over, lifting him from the ground and slinging him across wide shoulders.nn The giant bellowed, "Do you think that you will escape? Even now, our armies descend upon you from all sides! There is no escape."nn In the face of death, Yeagur turned and laughed. "Escape? Do you not know whom it is that you face?" His axe clanged loudly against his chestplate in rage and power, sending a ear-shattering clash through the hall. nn"I am Yeagur Ironsoul. I am the blade of my brothers. I am the shield of my people. I have a son who will one day tower over all in victory. I do not run."nn And with that, letting forth his greatest and final roar, Yeagur Ironsoul drew his axe and claimed for himself the greatest honor that an orc could, wrought from the flesh and blood of the giant's chest, the armies of the scourge descending upon him even as the fell stroke drove true.nn To the sounds of an orc in the throes of glory, the druid turned and took his son, who cried out as they went, to deliver unto day the last words of the heroes of the horde.

[Tashamlee]

The world swam around Bacuk as the druid ran through the halls. He saw scourge descending from every side, thrown back by typhoons of force as hurricanes began to erupt throughout the hall. Strikes of arcane fire and magic exploded through his vision as scourge were struck down as fast as they could rise up.nn Then, turning a final corner, Bacuk found himself facing the most terrible thing that his young eyes had ever beheld.nnnn A solid wall of ice, blocking the clear sky they could see on the other side.nnnn Quickly, the druid sat him down on the floor, searching the walls and the floor for any way of escape as the thunder of clanking armor rapidly drew nearer. nn Then, running his hands across the wall, the druid found a single, small hole near the floor. Peering in, he could see water on the other side, a cliff. nnCrystalsong.nn Taking a judge of the hole, he grabbed Bacuk and dragged him to the space, readying him near it.nn Drawing the tearful boy's eyes up to his, the druid looked deep into him. nn "With our lives, we now purchase yours." nn "Go forth, that it may be known what has happened today."nn "When you are brought before your commanders to report on what has happened, you need only know this."nn "It was said that you were lost, beyond hope and rescue. The commanders of Northrend believed you dead."nn The druid smiled weakly, knowing full and well what lay in store for him.nn "But we have reached into the jaws of death, and we have drawn you forth."nn And with that, the druid shoved Bacuk through the hole, his broken shoulder giving him just barely enough space to slide through. Letting out a cry of pain as he passed through, he fell, crashing into the waters below.nn The druid, heaving a sigh, rose to his feet as the thunder of the approaching army around him grew to a crescendo.nn Then, with a terrifying and unnatural suddenness, the thunder stopped.nn Steeling himself, he turned to face the scourge that now descended upon him.nn There, standing in front of the glittering armor and weapons of the ymirjar, stood the lord once again. His right arm hung limp, a great gash across his chest where he had been slain before being resurrected once again.nn His voice, hollow and frozen, a shell of its former power, rasped through the hallway.nn "Where is the orc?"nn The druid's eyes narrowed, "He is free. You have failed."nn The lord's functional left arm tore through the air in rage. "HOW DARE YOU! YOU WOULD DENY US WHAT IS OURS?"nn The druid widened his stance, preparing to fight. nn "Yours? He was never yours."nn In unison, the army let forth a hideous roar and drew their weapons, hundreds of swords swinging high into the air down the length of the druid's sight.nn "And he never will be."nn The lord, trying to salvage himself, took a shuffling step forwards. "He may not be, but on this day, you will."nnThe druid closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking a final stock of himself and his world.

[Tashamlee]

"I understand now."nnnnA thousand blades rose high as a cry of death rose from a thousand voices.nnnn"I have considered why it is that you must be undone, and I have concluded."nnnnBound to the will of their king, the giants let forth a cry of victory, the end was near.nnnn"You are voracious."nnnnAt once, the giants pulsed as they took a first step in unison, shaking the entire hall. None but the lord noticed as the druid's eyes took upon the yellow glow of the sun.nnnn"You know nothing of the love between a father and his son, between a husband and his bride, between brothers."nnnnWith the second, massive step, even the metal of the walls shook. The druid merely widened his stance, planting his feet upon the ground.nnnn"You would consume the balance of this world, destroying even yourselves."nnnnThe first rank of ymirjar felt a stillness, a pure silence, begin to consume the air. A feeling that they might have described as terror began to well within their hearts.nnnnThe druid's voice grew louder, ear shattering, without his voice being raised. Slow and steady, peaceful in the midst of death, he spoke still. "Did the orc not teach you?"nnnThe lord found himself having to avert his eyes as his soldiers poured forth around him, a feeling he could not describe took hold of him.nnnn"Then allow me to teach you what you lack." The druid's hands began to glow with as the energy of the world coursed through them. As he spoke, feathers began to sprout from the skin of his back and arms. "I will not survive this day, but I assure you, you will not either."nnIn a flash of green light, blinding the scourge who now had closed within striking distance of him, blades raised high...nnA pair of antlers erupted from the druid's head, shining as his eyes, as the sun, as the moon.nn"I will balance you."nnThe sign of the moon broke through the air above the druid, the ground around him shaking as his hands reached up through the air, grasping towards something unseen.nnThen, taking hold of something in the air, the druid's hands gripped it tightly. nnAnd tore it apart.nnThe sign of the moon exploded, arcing stars and fire through the hallway. Raining down upon the ymirjar, the stars exploded into novas of arcane power, tearing through steel and bone alike. The spirits of nature, aroused to war, leapt through the druid into the room, striking upon the giants with fury and wrath, thorn and bark crushing and rending in wide swaths through their ranks. Hurricanes brewed and tore through who turned to run, lighting and thunder striking them without warning or hesitation.nnThe lord, the world erupting in fury around him, tried to run, but found that his feet were stuck. No quarter would be given, no mercy shown to that which deserved none, and he knew it. Looking down at his feet, he was seized with terror unknown to his kind as roots sprouted from his legs, growing from his flesh into the ground around him. His very body shaking as it was consumed, his voice failed him in the end. Within moments, his armor fell to the floor, shattered, for a tree had grown up from where the lord of the ymirjar had once stood.nnAnd then, the storms subsiding and the fire dying slowly, the hall fell silent and still.nnAll had passed, all was complete.nnThere was balance.