darrenhardman

A World Collapses

A world collapses

 WARNING; The following you are about to read is a compilation of my experiences with characters of mine that I’ve played in the game World of Warcraft and Everquest as well as those from my own mind. This story is created only for the amusement and critique of my writing skills for myself and my friends. I am in the process of creating my own world and names. But for now the names, places and such that are from the games belong to the appropriate sources and I claim no ties what-so-ever in the creation of them. I will write my own in the near future and have a lifetime of characters and situations that I believe may make a great book in the realm I love to live in my down time. Please read, enjoy and most of all feel free to leave constructive feedback as this will help me in the creation of a world of my own.
 
 
 
Cylexan awakens
 
    Cylexan slowly opens his eyes. Feeling nothing at first. Then, slowly a coldness starts to rise through his back filling his entire body. A wave of death and decay rushes through his nose so thick that he swears he can taste it. As he slowly comes to his senses he realizes he is not alone in the dark. There is a low constant noise that sounds like insects moving over dry leaves. He tries to open his eyes wider but can only see blackness. A blackness so thick it seems as though you can cut it with a knife. As his senses sharpen he realizes the noise is coming from him. He then starts to feel little tickles all over his body. Still not able to move due to his muscles being tight as rusted metal hinges, he feels a piercing pain moving throughout his body like someone was trying to rip every muscle from him. Beginning as a dull toothache type pain, then growing steadily until the only thing left to do was scream.
 
    Cylexan lets out a piercing high pitched wail that one would associate with someone being slowly torn apart limb by limb. As his screams start to subside the sound of stone grinding against stone fills the room. A blinding light floods through the open hole. As he tries to focus he can barely make out two figures moving through the door and moving towards him. As they get closer he finally realizes that they are “Undead”! Fear, panic, and dread begins to rise up all at once and fearing he has been hurt in some battle and was put here to be the next meal he decides that he will fight as best he can. Injuries or not. Just as he goes to spring at the two figures the light falls across him in such a way that he see’s that the insect like sound and decaying smell was coming from him. The sound and tickles were the maggots eating HIS dead flesh!  His mind begins to race. Madness trying to set in. All of which, in his current physical condition and confusion he cannot handle. Another scream passes over his lips. a scream of helplessness like that of a man driven mad from endless physical torture.

    Not willing to listen to more screaming the largest figure speaks up in a loud firm voice, “CYLEXAN!”. “Finally, you awake. we were beginnig to think you had become one of the Lich King’s mindless ones.” he says in a somewhat quieter voice.
 
  The second figure speaks up, “Welcome to one of the Forsaken.”
 
  Confusion and disbelief that he has not yet been eaten, Cylexan tries to speak, “Wha…what happened t…to…m, me? Why c..can’t I m,m,move?”

“You cannot MOVE because of the Rigor Mortis. And what has happened is, you have journeyed to the world of the “Undead”.” says the larger figure.

Cylexan looks on is disbelief and horror.
 
The larger figure continues, ” you died from the plague that hit your home village. So THIS is your life now. Just be happy that you are not wandering around as a mindless zombie under the Lich King’s control.”

“What has happened to my wife? Has she journeyed as well? She died a while before me.” Cylexan asks anxiously.
 
“We do not know of anyones relatives. Actually we don’t know if anyone really recognizes other undead or mindless ones as relatives. We have not experienced anyone doing so.” replies the smaller figure.
 
The larger figure speaks up, “Let me introduce ourselves. I, am Gornan and this is Colenar. We are here to see if the bodies brought to us will turn to Forsaken or Mindless. Those that turn to Forsaken we train and the ones that turn as mindless we destroy so the Lich King cannot use them in his army. It is a futile attempt but one has to believe that every effort no matter how futile HAS to help.”
 
Gornan ceases the explanations and asks Cylexan “Can you stand?”
 
“I think so” Cylexan answers unsuredly. He tries to stand but his muscles are still tight as tent lines. He collapses back on the stone bench. he asks, “so what is to become of me now?”

“After you can walk we are to take you into the village to visit with the seer. she is called Solmara.” replies Gornan.
 
“She will look into your soul and decide which class will be best suited for you.” Gornan continues.
 
“Class?” asks Cylexan.
 
“Yes. Class. A warrior, mage, warlock and so on.” answers Colenar.
 
As they continue to talk Cylexan notices that he can move easier now. After a few minutes he is up on his feet and moving toward the door. as he passes through the doorway he realizes that the blinding light is an overcast light, not a full sunlight. Once outside of the tomb, they start down a winding path. a good way into their walk they round a bend and come upon three creatures that now resemble what one could only guess would be dogs. They have a light blue colored skin, sparse wire like hair and look horribly disfigured from some sort of evil magic. It appears they are feeding on a carcass of some sort of animal. although the identity is unrecognizable at this point. Well at least it didn’t appear to be humanoid. Suddenly the one on the right noticed them and let out a deep gutteral growl which alerted the other two. Gornan stopped and grabbed Cyllexan by the chest. “Wait here and do NOT move!” he says sternly.
 
They both take stance and ready their weapons. then without so much as a look they spring forward with an uncanny speed that seemed to surprise the animals, even though they had not taken their eyes off of them. Splitting up their attack, Gornan went straight after the one who noticed them first. Colenar went after the one that had its back to them. Their blades cut air and flesh with similar ease. before they could taste flesh, two of the three dogs were dead. just as Colenar made a move toward the third dog it erupted into an intense ball of flame. Yelping and screeching as it turned to run it only took about three steps before falling over dead. The heat and sudden burst of flame obviously irritated Gornan, as he was looking around like he wanted to kill something else. Cylexan decides that his escorts are definitely warriors. But who or what could’ve killed the third dog? He don’t think it could have been a mage because from what he knew of the mages their magic was considerably more powerful and would have instantly turned the dog to ash. No, it had to be a Warlock. as Cylexan regains his senses, a figure seems to form out of the shadows as if it were a shadow itself. He was laughing almost mockingly at Gornan and Colenar.

Gornan snaps “Blasted Warlocks! I wish you would give warning before you do that!”
 
“Don’t get your mail in a kink Warrior! I was just having some fun!” the Warlock snaps back.

Cylexan walks up to the group. the Warlock looks his way and looks him over. With a sarcastic tone he says “And who, or what, is….this?”
 
“His NAME…is Cylexan. He awakened just an hour ago.” Colenar says in a defending tone.
 
“Obviously, well Cy-lexan, I am Sularen. I am a warlock of the destruction discipline. I will see you again in the village. If, you live long enough that is.” Sularen says disregarding him.  Then just as quickly as he appeared he disappears back into the shadows.
 
“What is wrong with him?” asks Cylexan.

“eh, don’t mind him. He’s dead and he’s pissed.” says Gronan with a hearty chuckle.

Gornan, Colenar and Cylexan continue on their way toward the village. Colenar speaks in a quiet, cautious tone, “This old woman gives me the creeps, but, she is….accurate with her determinations.” They reach the village with no more incidents. As they approach the village Cylexan looks around noticing a sign that has the original name of the village crudely painted over with the name Deathknell. Gornan begins, “Deathknell is a village that was once a thriving midsize community until the plague came and took everyone.”
 
Cylexan looks around trying to imagine what life must have been like here before the plague hit. He can imagine it even through the decaying and falling structures.

Gornan continues, “Now it is a place where the recently deceased become Un-dead. this is where they begin their training in the war for Azeroth against the Lich King’s mindless armies called, The Scourge.
 
Gornan and Colenar lead Cylexan to a small shack on the left hand side of the path just inside the village. As they enter the room Cylexan sees a female horribly decayed with grey almost white hair that looks like someone cut it erratically with a dull knife. She is tall for a woman. Although slumping a bit Cylexan could tell  she was tall. She also appeared to be quite thin in her past life. Her eyes had a strange yellowish orange glow like hot coals in the dark. As Cylexan approached she spoke with a crackling, raspy voice that sounded as if she had not spoken in years. “And you are……Cy-lexan” the directness of her words chilled him deep down in his soul. With the swiftness of a snakes strike, she reaches out and grabs him by the head. Her eyes begin to glow brighter like someone was pushing air into them making the heat more intense. Cylexan had begun to feel his soul being probed deep within. It was like she had crawled inside him and was looking for something. Then just as quickly, she pulled back looking somewhat exhausted. He thought, she must have found whatever it was she was looking for.

Her voice becomes deep, almost demonic sounding, “Cy-lexan, You have the skills necessary for a Warlock. I have seen your past life and your knowledge of diseases and ability for studying. These will aid you well in your journey. Now, leave me, you need to seek Dormir at the Chapel. He will instruct you further and start you on your journey as a soldier of the Forsaken” she pauses and as Cylexan turns to leave she calls his name, “Cylexan! Do not seek death. It will be worse the second time.”

She then collapses to the floor. Before Cylexan could move, out of nowhere, two imps materialize and begin to pick her up. They appeared so suddenly that it startled Gornan and Colenar into drawing their weapons. Then realizing the imps were helping Solmara they sheathed their weapons and motioned for Cylexan to exit.

Once outside Colenar anxiously says, “See, see. I told you that old woman gives me the creeps!”
 
Cylexan agrees, “Yeah, I must admit, she creeped me out too.”
 
“We will see you to the Chapel but then you must travel your own way for awhile.” Gornan tells Cylexan.
 
Cylexan answers obviously distracted by what had just happened,  “Alright then, I guess we’re off to the chapel.”

Anxious to make some sort of conversation Cylexan asks cautiously “So, when did you two change over?”
 
Colenar answers, “Actually it was the same day about a year ago.”
 
“How long are we here in Deathknell before we move on?” asks Cylexan.
 
“That is ultimately up to Dormir and if and when he thinks you are ready for battle. First you will see him and then he will send you to your trainer” Gornan answers.
 
“Why have you two not left here?” Cylexan asks.
 
Colenar snaps a look at him and drawing a frown he snaps, “We did about six months ago. We were in a vicious battle with the Scarlet Crusade. Only a handful of over fifty survived.”  Colenar then falls of in a painfull trance of memories.

Gornan picks up and continues, “We were down by Silverpine Forest going to get rid of that damned Scarlet Crusade once and for all! But it had been some time since we had been there. You could feel it was bad timing. We didn’t know that they had gotten a hardened commander as well as a couple of magic users. We should never have gone with our intelligence being so bad lately. Our Intelligence has gone to the rats! It is almost non-existent now. They have done some construction as well. They no longer live in tents. They built a small Keep with an attached barracks. We lost some good soldiers that day. Colenar and I were wounded badly. we had finally managed to make it back to the road. We moved at nightfall. Once we reached the road we were spotted by a messenger from the near by capital city returning from delivering supplies to a small chapel outpost in the south. He picked us up and brought us back here. We’ve been healing and helping with the new recruits. that is how we have come to meet you. Once we are strong enough we will return to battle and have our revenge!”
 
“Well, I hope your wounds continue to heal.” Cylexan says.
 
Dismissing his good wishes Gornan says, “Ahh, here we are. May your training be fruitful. Who knows maybe we will cross paths again one day.”
 
” Yes, maybe and thank you for all you have done.” Cylexan says.

“Not a problem. for now, it is our job.” Gornan replies.

The three bid each other farewell. Cylexan turns, looks up at the half gone Steeple and the decaying church. He takes a deep breath and walks inside. the breath was more from habit really. It’s not like he’s actually breathing. The inside of the chapel offers no change in appearance. Rows of pews strewn about. Paint peeling off of what’s left of the walls. Moss hanging from the holes in the roof. Behind the beaten and decayed alter there is a soft glow of light coming from a small room. this place is in so bad of shape Cylexan could swear he can hear it moan in misery. Out of the corner of his eye he see’s something move on the wall. He turns his head to see what it is but there are just shadows. He can feel something staring at him. through him. He continues to the door. Another shadow moves, disappearing when his eyes try to focus on the spot where it was. He enters the doorway to the room. Standing across the room there are two raggedly dressed skeletons wearing what appears to be rotten religious clothing. Robes and sashes. the male Cylexan believes to be Dormir. the female must be his assistant.

“Shadow Priest Dormir?” Cylexan asks in an unsure voice.
 
Dormir slowly turns away from his work. The movement makes a sound of bone grinding on bone.”What is it!” he snaps. obviously aggravated at being disturbed from his work.
 
Cylexan begins, “Shadow Priest Dormir I am…”
 
Dormir cuts him off sharply, “STOP! I know who I am and I know who you are! I have been waiting for your arrival. So, you are to be a warlock eh?” He continues without giving Cylexan time to answer. “Good, we have a shortage of warlocks. Other than our Mages it is nice to see some intelligence around here.” he says sarcastically. “As you may or may not know, Azeroth is at war. But, your primary concern is the war closer to home for now.”

“The Scarlet Crusade?” Cylexan asks.
 
“Yes, How do you know of them?” Dormir snaps.
 
“Gornan and Colenar had told me how they became wounded earlier.” Cylexan answers.
 
“Ahh, yes fine, fine warriors, those two.” Says Dormir proudly.
 
“Also we must keep the Lich King’s army of mindless undead at bay.” Dormir continues. “Lesson one, when you’re out on your own and you encounter more undead, speak to let other Forsaken know you are not one of the mindless. All they do is groan.”
 
“Ok” Cylexan answers.
 
“So for now there is much for you to do and learn here. Also with all of the renegade human magic users running around there are plenty of abominations loose in the forest. Like the ones I believe you have encountered on your walk to the village.” Dormir explains.

Cylexan nods in agreement.
 
“When we are done here you will go and get acquainted with your trainer to begin your training. So, come now Let us get you properly clothed.” Dormir says.
 
Cylexan follows Dormir into yet another room. This one is filled with chests and wardrobes filled with all sorts of different apparel. Cloth, leather and some mail wares. Dormir pulls out a battered robe from one of the wardrobes. It appears to have been red at one time.

“Here, put this apprentice robe on and I will arm you when you come out.” Dormir tells him.
 
Cylexan begins to change out of his still pretty decent attire that someone had buried him in. While changing he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss. Knowing he was getting rid of the last thing that tied him to his former life. Reality came crashing down on him. Now he knows this is not just a dream. Disheartened he looks one last time at the pile of clothes he left on the floor. Then with a tear in his eye he turns and goes into the other room to claim his weapon. Now no longer connected to his former life. Dormirs’ assistant, Julara is waiting by a table with a crude looking dagger in her hand.
 
“Unfortunatley all we have here is the most basic of weapons and apparel to get you started. Please take this dagger to keep you safe.” Julara says.
 
Cylexan takes the dagger and weighs it in each hand testing its balance. He examines it and thinks he’s seen better weapons on the floor of a lake. Whatever he stabs with this would surely die of infection rather than the actual wound caused by it. Cylexan leaves Dormir and heads out to meet his trainer. with the recent sorrow and despair finally fading away he starts to feel some confidence and honor seep into him. He looks boastingly at his decayed faded red robe. It is not what it looks like that counts but what it stands for. He is FORSAKEN now. A Warlock in the Army of the Forsaken. He thinks to himself that it actually sounds ok to him. A Warlock’s apprentice but still a warlock. That is more than he was ever allowed to be in his past life. Noone had the belief or trust in him to be anything more than a heathen. that is except his beloved wife. She had all the faith in the world in him. then she died from the plague. He can’t help but wonder what has happened to her. Would he even recognize her if he came across her? More importantly if he did recognize her and she was mindless would he have the strength and courage to kill her. Sending her to that all to painful second death but freeing her from the Lich King’s control? he shivers and then pushing that dreadful thought aside and actually feeling worth something, he continues on to meet his trainer………..and, his DESTINY….
 
End Chapter 1
 

Chapter 2
 
A new assignment
 
    The pungent scent of blood, bowels and excrement baking in the sun fills the air. Battle commands, the screams of the wounded and dying drowned out by the clanking of steel against steel as the furious pace of battle slows. His muscles burning with fatigue, sweat stinging his eyes, Bulgok thrusts his sword forward one last time with all the strength he has left. The point of his blade sinking deep into the throat of his foe. Piercing deep enough to sever the spinal cord. Bulgok looks into the wide horror filled eyes of his enemy as they turn lifeless and he falls to the ground with a boneshattering thud. Withdrawing his sword, Bulgok staggers a few steps and collapses from exhaustion onto the battlefield. Orgron, turning to late to see what had happened only saw Bulgok stagger and fall and ran to him calling his name.
 
BULGOK! BULGOK! NOOO! PLEEEASE, NOOOOOOOO!!! dropping to his childhood friends side and lifting his head into his arms Orgron beginning to weep calls to him fearing the worst.
 
Bulgok wakes from the sudden movement and the sound of a familiar voice. With a dry, raspy voice and barely enough energy to speak Bulgok says “I am alright. I…am….alright, right?” After seeing the look on Orgrons face he really wasn’t quite sure anymore.

Orgron speaks through a panic stricken voice “Yes, yes I cannot find any life threatening wounds. All I saw was you fall! I had not seen what had happened!” fear turning to embarrassment Orgron apologizes ” I am sorry for my childish reaction my friend. I……got…..scared you were……gone.”
 
Now kneeling Bulgok drives the point of his sword into the earth and with the other hand grabs on to Orgron and pulls himself to his feet. Barely enough energy to stand. He looks around the battlefield surveying the current situatin and events. Then with the voice of the hard commander that he is he says “Come, I believe the battle is won. who is not dead or badly wounded is fleeing. Let’s return to the rear and take damage assessment and see if rest is in our near future.”
 
Slowly heading to the rear Bulgok turns his gaze skyward. he see’s the all to familiar site of a sky filled with vultures waiting eagerly for their chance to feast on the dead. Dropping his head, he tries to avoid tripping over the bodies of comrade and enemy alike. A mixed emotion falls over him. He cannot help but to feel thankful that it is not him lying dead on the ground. But at the same time he wonders if they are actually better off. It is dusk before they reach their camp in the rear. They come upon a sentry who immediately challenges them to identify themselves.

“Halt! Who approaches the camp of his majesty’s armed forces?!” yells the sentry.
 
Orgron snaps immediately “It is Bulgok and Orgron! Captains of his majesty’s first division! Now stand aside! We are in no mood to toy with you!”
 
“Yes Sir!” says the sentry snapping to attention.

Campfires light their way to thier assigned area. when they finally arrive they only see a few faces sitting around the campfire. They walk up to them and Orgron asks with concern and disappointment, “Is this all who have returned from the front?”
 
A young recruit with bandages covering his left arm and around his head, holding a patch in place over his right eye says, “So far yes sir.”  just then a junior enlisted line leader comes over from the tents nursing a wicked gash on his right arm, trying to slow the bleeding and gives a report. “Sir, our situation is, five here at the fire, fifteen in the corpse area, and the two of you.”
 
“Ok, thank you.” Bulgok says. “Have you checked the wounded tents yet?” he continues.
 
“No sir, I was on my way there when I saw you arrive.” answers the young line leader.
 
“Alright, I will go myself in a few moments. Now you go rest, you’ve earned it.” Bulgok instructs.
 
“Yes sir, thank you sir” answers the young line leader. He turn and heads off to do what he is told.
 
Bulgok calls after him, “Hey, Noklar?’
 
Noklar, confused at the action of his Captain calling him by his first name, stops, spins and answers “Yes, Sir?”
 
Bulgok says in almost a fatherly voice, “Good job on the battlefield today. You fought well.”
 
Still confused but with a look of newfound pride Noklar says, “Thank you very much sir!” Whirls and walks off to his tent now with a sense of pride in his step.

 
    Bulgok and Orgron have been at each others side since both of their fathers were killed in combat when they were very young. So long that they almost move as one as they take a seat by the fire with the other five sitting there reflecting on their deeds on the days events. this soon after battle, nothing can be said without it sounding rehearsed and irrelevant. Bulgok and Orgron just share some quiet reflection time with their men. That in itself attests to the kind of leaders they are. Bulgok though is always studying his men. It’s something of a habit with him. Although by doing this he seems to have an uncanny knack to catch things before they erupt. Studying each man sitting there Bulgok sees looks varying from sorrow to blank expressions to looks of terror that have not quite reached full potential.  He recalls over many battles that the time right after a battle is harder on a soul than the battle itself. This is the time when instinct gives way back to feelings. Surreal returns to real and at this time is when one may not be able to handle the sudden ebb and flow of feelings. The bitter taste of battle affects warriors in different ways. Some completely lock up from fear unable to do anything. Thus, resulting in their own deaths and/or the deaths of much better warriors around them. Some are able to use an internal switch and turn on and off the mode of war. THOSE, are the most dangerous ones. They develop a “Blood Lust”, caring for nothing except the act of spilling blood. the more they can spill the greater the lust becomes until he either snaps and only his death will stop him or he becomes the ultimate warrior. Instincts, razor sharp, the battlefield moving in slow motion and every blow landing with fierce lethality. This does not come without a price either. but this price comes many years after the ultimate warrior has long finished the last act of his career. After all the battles have ended and he goes mad at his home from the constant replays of battle, friends falling and him always escaping death. Some around Bulgoks home call this the “Creeping Madness”. as it takes years before it finally wraps its death grip around you.
 
Feeling a sense of uselessness Bulgok stands. “Listen up!” He says sternly. “There are no words I can say that will make it easier for you to deal with this day.” he says with disappointment. “But, I want each of you to know that I am honored to have fought with such a brave horde of warriors! Rest well my brothers. For tomorrow is another day!” Bulgok turns and gives Orgron a look that he knows to follow him and as Orgron stands to follow him, a sharp “HONOR, FREEDOM or DEATH!” is let out with a huge sense of pride that is customary among their race. Bulgok turns to face the campfire and pounds his huge fist against his chest with a solid blow, that would have surely crushed the bones of a lesser being, and returned their call,  “HONOR, FREEDOM or DEATH!” and with that he and Orgron stroll off towards the wounded tents.
 
    The walk seems to take hours as he does not know what gruesome injuries await him. His attention is so occupied that he does not hear Orgron asking him a question. With a nudge on his shoulder Bulgok snaps back to reality. He looks at Orgron with a puzzled look.

You weren’t here were you?  a brief pause, “Just a moment ago?” Orgron says cautiously.
 
“I am sorry Orgron. No I was not. I always dread this walk.” says Bulgok with a heavy heart. “I weep for the maimed my brother. It tears at my soul to know I have led these brave warriors to this. I wear each of their injuries on my heart as a scar on my heart.” he continues somberly. “I know that things would be much worse if we did not fight, but it does not make the pain of seeing my men wounded and maimed any easier.” he says finally.
 
“I know.” says Orgron with a sound of worriment. “But, my brother, you cannot carry ll of that yourself. It will eventually drive you mad.” he continues with concern.
 
“You are right and I know you are right but that does not change the fact that I do.”  he says. “We have been in battle so long. I hope there is time off for all of us soon. I think I will travel to the Shadow Forest and take in the tranquility in very large doses.” he continues with a false sense of hope.”I also hear the undead are growing in numbers rapidly due to the plague in Brynn’s Manor last year.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need more if we are to win this war.” says Orgron. “I also hear of the dark elves joining us too. Some say it is due to the continued human harrassment and encroachment on their lands.” he continues.
 
“Now, THAT, would be good news if it were true.” says Bulgok.
 
They approached the doorway to the wounded tents. A complex of tents linked together like a broken wagon wheel with the center of the wheel the control tent. Each tent was huge and housing around 50 beds. So the magnitude of the hospital tent complex was very massive indeed. Bulgok and Orgron enter the main control tent and ask the way to their units section. so they head of through the immediate left spoke of the wheel and upon entering the doorway to their units section, Bulgok sees the rows of beds with the wounded sporting all sorts of wounds. The smell of the wounded tents always makes him sick to his stomach. The combination of blood, antiseptic and healing herbs is overwhelming. Only a few of the 15 are conscious. Three have died and the rest are sleeping or passed out from the pain. Bulgok and Orgron pull the bloodsoaked sheets over the faces of the deceased. The staff working at a frenzied pace to stop bleeding and cover wounds look exhausted. Bulgok and Orgron split up to talk with the wounded and check their wounds. Some will be sent hime due to their wounds. Others will spend some time here and then return to the unit. Staying as long as he can Bulgok motions to Orgron and they bid speedy healing and and farewell to their fellow warriors and head back to their own tent area. They reach their tent area and bid each other goodnight.

 
It is not long at all after Bulgok lays his head down that he is off to sleep. No doubt due more to exhaustion than to being comfortable. The last few days of violence are deep in hie thoughts. His night passes quickly and restlessly. He awakens to the sound of movement outside of his tent. Probably someone going to relieve himself in the nearby woods. unable to go back to sleep he decides to get up and go to the dining area and grab something to eat. He believes they are having his favorite meal this morning. Poached wild ostrich eggs, crocodile meat and some mixture of wild cactus and sourberry milk. Hopefully this will ease his uneasiness. Making the walk to the dining area, grabbing a plate he heads off back to his units area. As he finds a place to sit on a smaller rock next to a bigger rock, he sets is plate down and says his tribal prayer before starting to eat. Their race may be a wild race but they are versed well in respect and honor.  As he begins to eat he notices the morning sun has started to rise and can feel the warmth starting to warm his rough thick green skin. He pauses eating long enough to tilt his head back and close his eyes so the sun can can bathe  is enormous lightly bearded and scarred face. He takes a huge deep breath and because it has been so long that he has felt such a simple pleasure that he can’t help but let go a smile. A smile so wide it shows his very large and sharp yellowing fangs. A small deep guttural sigh escapes his lips as he brings his head back down to continue eating. After finishing his morning feast he goes to relieve himself just inside the edge of the woods. He then strolls back to the tent area. the day after a vicious and victorious battle is always a day of regrouping. The only organized activity is the working parties sent out to collect what stragglers are still alive or lost. As he enters the tent area Orgron just now stirring steps out of his tent.

“Did you rest well?” asked Bulgok.
 
“Not well at all.” he answers perturbed. “How long have you been up?” he continues.
 
“I wasn’t resting and the slightest noise woke me up so I decided to get some of the Ostrich eggs. You know I have a massive weakness for those.” Bulgok says with a snicker. “You must sit in the morning sun. it feels wonderful this morning.” he continues with a sense of calmness.
 
Orgron says “I think I will. Maybe it will settle me some.” Orgron heads off toward the dining area.
 
    Bulgok goes over by what is left of the fire. there is a young ORC warrior sitting by himself. Bulgok did not see him last night. Maybe he had already retired or was being patched up. Although his dressings looked to be hastily bound.

“Young one, Have you eaten yet?” Bulgok asks.

“No sir, I just got in a few moments ago from the front.” answers the young orc.

“Did you lose your way?” Bulgok asks.
 
“No sir, I was making sure my brother was sent well onto the next journey.” a slight pauseas he takes a drink from his animal hide canteen and then he continues, “He was very badly wounded and not able to be moved. It was no use to bandage so I made sure his transition was as bearable as possible.”
 
“Very well, then. If you are able, you should eat. It will strenghten you.” Bulgok says in a slightly authoritve voice. This will let the young one know that Bulgok knows his pain but also that he has the young ones saftey and best interest in mind.
 
“Yes sir.” the young one says blankly.
 
“After you eat try and rest the best you can. Today is a day of regrouping so do what you can to regain your senses and strength.” Bulgok instructs.
 
“Thank you sir.” he says again blankly.Then he move off toward the dining area.

    Bulgok sits down next to the coals and tries to plan out what his next move will be. as he is doing this Orgron returns. Obviously in a much better mood. “So, What’s next boss?” he asks.
 
Bulgok answers matter of factly, “For now, I’m just gonna sit here and relax until the heads come for me.”
 
“Sound like a solid plan to me.” Orgron answers.

Sitting in the shade of a large tree near their unit area Bulgok and Orgron entertain themselves by playing and orc childhood game. (This game is much like the human game of checkers but with numbers on them. In order to jump the  opposing player, your number has to be higher. Play continues until one game piece is left. When two (one each) is left you can only move forward until you hit an edge.) Orgron spots the “Heads” Bulgok said he was gonna wait for coming their way and says “Well, Looks like it’s time to go to work.” and motions behind Bulgok. Bulgok, knowing instinctively what he meant, stood and went to meet the superior officers. “Honor, Freedom or Death, gentlemen” says Bulgok without saluting. It was not out of disrespect but common knowledge that you do not salute an officer in the field. that was an invitation for scouts or enemy spies to mark an officer for assassination.

“Good afternoon.” says both of the superior officers. “We need to discuss something with you and Captain Orgron.
 
 Immediately Bulgoks all business attitude takes over. “Yes sir. we are over her in the shade.” he says.
 
“That will do fine.” says the Highest ranking officer. They return and have a seat with Orgron. Greetings are exchanged with Orgron. After seated the lower ranking senior starts.

“Bulgok, how are you?” I mean, are you holding together?”
 
“Yes sir, why?” Asks Bulgok. “has my performance faultered?”
 
“No, no it’s just you have been a fine leader and warrior for us over many, many battles and we feel that you and Orgron need a well deserved break.” He continues. “I myself have noticed that you carry your warriors’ wounds with you.

“Yes sir, I do because I care about the men I command.” Bulgok says.
 
“Yes, I know and I admire that in you. You are a unique leader. That is why I am giving you and Orgron an out of the way, assignment. Give you some breathing room.” says the officer.
 
“Ok sir, what are our orders?” asks Bulgok.

“As you know, we are in alliance with the undead called “Forsaken”  says the senior officer.
 
“Yes sir.” answers Bulgok and Orgron in unison.

“Well, their numbers are growing and they are in need of some organized experience to help on a mission that will require a party of selected classes to carry out. It will mean you are more or less adventuring. as I said, breathing room for you two.” explains the officer.
 
“How long will this assignent be, sir?” asks Orgron.

“until it is complete.” answers the officer.
 
“I…..we appreciate the opportunity sir but why us?” asks Bulgok.
 
“It is my decision, Bulgok.” says the senior. “You two have more than proved yourselves as warriors and leaders. take this assignment as my thanks to you. The majority of the fighting is done here for awhile.” the senior continues.
 
“As you command sir, when do we depart?” asks Bulgok.

“First thing in the morning. I bid you farewell and safe journey. You two are very fine officers and it has been my honor to have commanded you. May all of your battles be brief and victorious.”  says the senior officer.

They all stand to leave and Bulgok says “Thank you sir, may yours as well.”
 
As the senior officers leave the area Bulgok and Orgron look at each other in stunned disbelief. Then bewildered Bulgok says “Well, I guess we go pack.”
 
Orgron agrees and they head off to pack their gear except what they will need tonight and in the morning. They spend the rest of the day talking and saying goodbye to thier troops. When night comes Bulgok and Orgron retire and Bulgok lays awake for awhile wondering what lays ahead. He then drifts off into a deep sleep. Morning comes and Bulgok grabs something to eat. they stop by the senior officers office to get the specifics on where and whom to report to. “You know the ruins of the old city near the undead capital?”  asks the senior officer.
 
“Yes” answers Bulgok.

“Go there and speak with a Shadow Priest Dormir. He is the Warlock class trainer but he is also the area leader of the undead. He will instruct you further.” explains the senior officer.
 
“Yes sir” Orgron and Bulgok say in unison, dismiss themselves and set off on their journey towards the undead ruins.
 
END CHAPTER 2