| Summary: | In which Barid and Brightbeard save a continent. |
|---|---|
| Source: | “Warcraft epic” by Akire-san. |
| Continuum: | World of Warcraft. |
| Timeline: | May 2010. |
| Published: | May 28, 2010. |
| Rating: | PG-13/T - Disturbing sexual advances on a Mary Sue. No one wants to see that. |
| Betas: | Neshomeh, Miah, and Crimsonoutsider. |
In a nondescript corner of HQ, in a nondescript hallway full of nondescript doors, one door stood out. It was the same gray color as the rest of the doors. If one were asked to determine what set this particular door apart, one might guess that it was the trio of shrunken heads that hung below the plaque that read “RC #1986.” One would be right.
On the other side of the door was a response center. The occupants of this RC obviously had issues with sharing. They had divided the small room with a line of permanent marker. On one side of the line there were no decorations, just a portable forge, weapon and armor racks, and a bed that did not look at all inviting or comfortable. Everything was neat and orderly. The opposite end of the room was quite different. There were shrunken heads hanging from pegs on the wall, several voodoo fetishes, jars filled with strange powders and liquids, a hammock, and a small loom. The floor on this side of the room was strewn with flower petals, straw, and various things from the aforementioned jars.
One of the room’s occupants was out at the moment. The other could easily be found due to the fact that one of his legs was hanging out of the hammock. The leg was long and blue and ended in a two-toed foot. From within the hammock the sound of off-key singing could be heard. This continued until the door opened.
“Ugh,” said a gruff voice from the door upon seeing the leg. “Ye better be wearin’ clothes, Barid.”
The occupant of the hammock sat up. His skin was a pleasant cornflower blue and his hair, which he wore in a long braid, was almost midnight blue. He had a pair of fairly impressive tusks jutting from his mouth, though one had been broken and was now two inches shorter than the other. He was a fine figure of a Jungle Troll and, much to his partner’s dismay, he did not appear to be wearing much of anything.
“’Ey, what took ya so long?” asked Barid in his thick Troll (read: Jamaican) accent. “I bin waitin’ forevah, Brightbeard. I’m so hungry I could eat a Gnome.”
“Wouldn’t recommend that,” said his partner, tossing a bag of food from the Cafeteria to Barid. He was much shorter than his partner, which is perfectly normal for a Dwarf. He had a ruddy complexion that was reminiscent of the color of bricks. His hair was sandy blond and he kept it short, with the exception of his beard. His beard was well kept, long, and luxurious. “And, as I am sure it has slipped yer mind, it’s a bit difficult tae get around in Headquarters.”
“T’ank ya, Eamon,” said the Troll as he dug into the bag of food.
Agent Eamon Brightbeard made his way to the other end of the room and began stoking his forge so he could get some work done before their next mission. Someone must have been listening to his thoughts, though, for at that moment there was a . . .
[Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!]
Eamon heaved a sigh and went to check the console (which had also been divided by the line of permanent marker). As he did that, Barid jumped out of his hammock and began to pull on his favorite purple robe.
“’Nother Sue,” said the Dwarf as he scanned the report.
“I got ten gold on da Warchief bein’ her victim,” said Barid.
“Ye always try that one, and I’m ne’er daft enough tae take that bet,” said Eamon, his Dwarf (read: Scottish) accent particularly thick. “Besides, looks like a continent is one of her victims in this one.”
“Which one?” asked the Troll, as he began rummaging through his pack for an appropriate map.
“If ye’ve got a map of Quel’thalas and the surrounding areas,” said Agent Brightbeard, “that should do fine.”
Agent Barid found a perfect map. It showed all the areas from the Plaguelands in the south to the Isle of Quel’Danas in the north.
“What area is northwest of Quel’thalas?” asked the Dwarf. He had a sound to his voice that told Barid he already knew the answer.
“Dere ain’t nothin’ dere,” said the blue agent, suspicious of what kind of game his partner was playing. “Just ocean all da way till ya hit Nort’rend.”
“Nae anymore,” sighed Eamon as he moved to put his armor on. “I can’t imagine how much effort it would take tae create an entire peninsula tae use as a playground. These Sues are mad.” He continued to equip himself with the armor he had worn as a Knight of the Silver Hand.
“Now don’ say dat, mon,” laughed Barid, “I bin called mad in my day, an’ I don’ wan’ ta be lumped in wit’ dem.” He pulled on his tabard, which was black and depicted a Swiss army knife that, due to a dotted line, appeared to be bouncing. That done, he put on his favorite purple hat.
“That hat makes ye look daft,” said the Dwarven agent, as he too put his tabard on.
“If by ‘daft’ ya mean sexy,” said Barid with a grin. He had picked up his staff and was now fiddling with some of the buttons on the console.
Agent Brightbeard went over to a weapon rack and picked up a large war hammer, the favored weapon of Warcraft Paladins everywhere. When he had secured that on his back, he turned to see what his partner was doing. “Don’t touch that,” he exclaimed as he rushed to the console. “Ye’ve no idea what yer doin’ with the technology.”
“’Course I don’,” said the Troll, “ya never let me near da stuff.”
“And fer good reason,” chided the Dwarf, “I quite like my beard right where it is.” He then muttered something under his breath.
“Ya take dat back,” Barid said, angrily. “I’m not worse dan a Gnome. Filty little t’ings give me da bad juju.”
“We’ve wasted enough time,” replied the stockier agent, who was now filling his pouches with various pieces of regulation technology. “We have tae get going.” He activated a portal from the console and proceeded to walk through. Brightbeard felt a little different after walking through; a little clumsier, and his helmet felt heavier than usual. However, it was completely dark on this side of the portal so he could not investigate.
“Oh no,” laughed Agent Barid, who had obviously joined his partner, “I’m blind! I can’t see ya ugly face, Brightbeard!” He laughed good and hard, but was brought up short as the author’s voice exploded around them.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN WARCRAFT AND IT'S CHARACTERS EXCEPT SHARYA, RATHKURR AND SOME MINOR CHARACTERS I INVENTED ... PLS SKIP THIS INTRO IF YOU KNOW WARCRAFT ALREADY :)
“Oh good,” Barid said as he picked himself up off the floor, “we can skip dis part.”
“We most certainly can not,” replied the Dwarf as he wrote furiously in the darkness. “Ye know as well as I do that charges in the intro can have drastic repercussions in the world. We already have a charge for Caps Lock abuse, Light knows what else is coming.”
The agents soon found out what was coming when the intro started. It was as though the lights went up on a stage in front of them. The author started by describing the “landscape” as “the land of Humans and Elves,” which caused the ground to be formed from the bodies of said Humans and Elves. The agents were horrified. Things only got worse when several castles, full to bursting with knights and footmen, popped into existence. Agent Brightbeard could not write fast enough to keep up. Barid burst out laughing as the knights were attacked by “a horde of orcish clans from nowhere.”
Things got a little boring for a bit as “hundreds of years” passed on the stage while the Humans and Orcs fought on their plain of Humans and Elves. Brightbeard talked to himself as he scribbled out the charge list. “Hundreds of years?” he muttered. “It’s only been a quarter of a century since the Orcs came through the portal and the fighting started.”
“Eamon, mon,” laughed Barid, “you see what dey fightin’ wit?”
Agent Brightbeard had to squint to make it out but it seemed that the Orcs were using drums as their weapon of choice. He was about to write this down when he noticed the arrival of the leader of the Orcs. A map, clearly labeled “Durotar,” held up a drum and led a charge against the Humans. Eamon sighed. “Remind me tae look for the mini that goes with that map when this is all done.”
Barid laughed harder.
The battle reached a fever pitch. At one point it appeared that all of the combatants were stricken blind, though they continued to fight. Then, much to Barid’s amusement, the dead were “rising in arms,” an act which looked suspiciously like crowd-surfing. Demons began to appear, at random, all over the stage. At the very last, a skeleton in black robes walked onto the stage, looked around, and sighed dramatically. The lights went out on the stage. Barid began to clap frantically. Eamon continued to write charges while muttering something derogatory about Barid’s entire race.
“Stop clapping,” snapped Brightbeard. “That was supposed tae be fer people who don’t know anything about our World. If any of them bothered tae watch that then they now know less than nothing about it.”
“It was entertainin’,” said Barid, with a laugh.
“It was also horribly written and horribly inaccurate,” said the angry Dwarf. “Not tae mention that mini that must be running around. I mean, the Orc’s name was Durotan. Durotar is the country that was named after him. One would at least think that people could tell the difference between an Orc and a country.” He looked as though he would like to have continued this rant. Unfortunately for him, the story picked that moment to assert an actual landscape. Both agents were thrown to the ground that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Barid pushed himself to his feet, looked over at his partner, and burst out laughing. Brightbeard was on his hands and knees, surrounded by dead Humans, in the grass that was “stained crimson.” The Dwarven agent was staring at his hands . . . his huge, three-fingered hands. After a moment of quiet contemplation he climbed to his hooves and turned to look down on his partner.
“I’m a Tauren, aren’t I?” said Brightbeard, who was taking this all with a calm that is usually only seen in someone who is about to pull out a flamethrower. “When did this happen?”
Barid’s laughter was beginning to subside. He still had a fair case of the giggles but he was able to answer his partner between bouts. “Right before ya told me ta get away from da console. Ya t’ink ya’re all knowin’ wit ya technology. I know a t’ing or two ’bout it, I jus’ don’ like da stuff.”
Brightbeard sighed and shook his enormous, horned head. “Let’s get on with the mission, then. I’ll think of fitting retribution later.” He sniffed the air and thought for a moment before he added, “Any idea why the air smells like sulfur?”
“Was wonderin’ what dat was,” said the Troll as he whirled his staff and brought it down on his own head. The blow sent his eyes out of focus and he said, “Da Words say dat it’s da smell of blood. Now dat don’ make no sense.”
“That’s a charge,” said the Tauren!Dwarf as he retrieved his notebook from the ground. He found that all the things he had brought with him had increased in size to facilitate their use by a Tauren. He noted the new charge in the ever-growing list. He looked up in time to see two Orcs coming their way. One was easily identified as Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde. He was wearing his usual black armor and carrying the Doomhammer. The other Orc had no distinguishing features and was carrying a generic axe.
The agents ducked behind a nearby stand of trees as the Orcs approached. “Any idea who dat is wit da Warchief?” asked Barid.
“Hold yer horses, lad,” said Brightbead as he rummaged through his bags to find his Character Analysis Device. When he found it, he pointed it at the generic Orc that was conversing with Thrall. The device gave a quiet beep and the read-out said [Rathkurr. Male Orc Warrior. Non-canon. Bit character].
The two Orcs continued to talk about how inferior Humans are. Thrall showed some signs of being close to in-character, at least for the moment.
The agents had settled in to wait when a scream and a war cry caught their attention and the attention of the conversing Orcs. The agents had to move quickly as Thrall and Rathkurr ran off into the forest. Brightbeard was actually glad to have a Tauren’s body now, as the longer legs allowed him to keep up as the Orcs started “making their leaps longer and faster.” The Orcs were now jumping like deer through the trees.
As the Orcs burst into a clearing, the agents stopped well inside the cover of the trees. They watched the scene unfold.
Standing on the clearing was the most beautiful orcish woman Thrall had ever seen. And a Burlow was by her feet, dead. The woman turned towards Thrall, obviously shocked that he was there.
He in turn could only look at her. Her fiery hair was tied back by a bandana, giving him a clear view of her perfect face. Her gently slopping forehead, golden eyes, gently upturned nose and full lips all framed in a heart-shaped face, held him spellbound.
The woman lowered her weapon, a metal glove with three long blades to stare back at him. His mind was going numb. Never had Thrall been speechless in his life.
Brightbeard pointed the CAD at this new Orc and was greeted with a loud beep and a flashing red light. The screen showed [Sharya. Female Orc? Witchdoctor. Non-canon. Mary Sue]. The bovine!Dwarf stared at the screen for a moment, shook the CAD, and looked again. The question-mark was still there and he couldn’t account for it.
Barid was more interested in the beast at Sharya’s feet. It looked like some kind of giant sloth with horns. “What in da name of Het’iss is a Burlow? Brightbeard, ya evah heard of one of dose?”
“Can’t say that I have, nay,” replied the Dwarf as he changed the batteries in the CAD to make sure they were good. He took another reading of the Sue and got the same result. “I’ve nae idea what this Light-blasted contraption is tryin’ tae say.”
“We don’ need no gadgets ta tell dat t’ing’s a Sue.” Barid gestured at Sharya. “Ya evah seen an Orc dat pretty? She don’ even have tusks. No self-respectin’ Orc would be caught dead wit dat.”
“Keep it down, Barid,” hissed Eamon, who was only listening to his partner half-heartedly. “I don’t want tae miss any more charges.” And he didn’t have to wait long for more charges to surface. The Sue had just healed a small wound on Rathkurr’s arm.
"I'm indebt to you, kind woman," Rathkurr examined his healed hand, greatly impressed. "you are a witch doctor, are you not?"
"I am but in training," the girl shook her head, "I am called Sharya from the Crimsonpath clan"
"Crimsonpath clan! Little has remained of that clan since the war of Quel'thalas. We are called Rathkurr and Thrall of the Horde" Rathkurr introduced, pointing at Thrall, who was still tongue-tied
Agent Brightbeard began writing again while muttering. His partner was only able to catch, “ . . . wasn’t happy with the more than two dozen clans they already had . . . .”
“’Ey, history boy,” interjected the Troll, “how can dey be part of da Horde if da Horde didn’t exist before T’rall became da Warchief? And if T’rall be da Warchief, den why is he on patrol? An’ shouldn’ she know him if he be da Warchief?”
Brightbeard stopped writing for a moment to stare at his partner in awe. “Lad,” he said slowly, “I think ye may have knocked some sense into yerself when ye hit yerself in the head earlier. Maybe ye should do that more often.” He laughed and turned back to the Orcs just in time to hear Thrall say “To arms.”
The agents were again thrown to the ground as time and space had a seizure. When they managed to get to their feet they noticed that the sun had gone down and that they were surrounded by buildings which were distinctly Orcish in design. The street in which they found themselves was deserted but it wasn’t difficult to figure out where everyone was likely to be found. The biggest building in town had light and music pouring out of it.
The agents watched through the open door as Orcs and Trolls danced around a large fire in the center of the room. Barid was eager to show these background characters how a real Troll dances, but restrained himself when Sharya got up to dance. Brightbeard held the charge list at the ready, but there didn’t seem to be anything of consequence happening at the moment.
Thrall stood up and promptly walked out the door that they were standing at. He stood outside the door for a moment with a blank look on his face. Barid nudged his partner and whispered “internal monologue” in his ear. Brightbeard screwed up his eyes to get a look at the Words.
But Thrall had little interest to the women orcs until Sharya came. Female orcs, in general, weren't beautiful and graceful creatures. They were smaller than the males. And although they had fewer muscles, they weren't also slender like Sharya. They were very useful because they kept everything from farming to keeping the structures sound. They were like the peons but had lighter jobs. The women orcs were also smaller in ratio to the numbers of male orcs because they usually gave birth to boys and never left the safety of their city. Thrall was a bit surprised that Sharya was a student witchdoctor though no law states that she was forbidden to practice. It was just unusual.
The Dwarven agent was shocked by this. He was no expert on Orc society, but he had been soundly beaten by Orc women on a number of occasions and thought that this was a very backward view of how things were. He noted it in his charge list and was forced to add another charge as Thrall jumped onto a nearby roof and “began to make his way across the huge buildings.”
“Don’ see dat everyday,” Barid commented as he watched Thrall run over rooftops.
“Nor should you,” remarked Brightbeard. “We should get back and keep an eye on that Sue.” He turned and walked the short distance back to the door. As he looked in on the scene, the Sue was staring at the place where Thrall had sat. She then huffed and took the time to drink an entire tankard of ale before storming out of the hall. The agents tailed her as she walked. Brightbeard kept an eye on her inner monologue.
Being half Elf, she wasn't really like one of the orcish women. They were brawnier, wilder and more exciting, while she was slender, curvier and…well…shorter. Though she was blessed by a brain and aura of an elf enabling her to harness the power of the woods and excel in her trainings. She couldn't stand a chance on mortal combat with them. Dammit!
“Well,” said Brightbeard, who was trying to write while still looking at the Words, “that explains the difficulty the CAD was having. There is absolutely nothing in her description to indicate Elven heritage.”
“Wonder what kind of Elf she suppose’ ta be?” muttered Barid. “I t’ink dat should be a charge. Not bein’ sure what da hell ya are.”
“Yes, I think ye may be right fer once.” The Dwarven agent looked back at the Words again. “And I’ll add in a charge of Wangst for her lamenting her perfection.” The agents continued to follow the Sue until she went to a small hole in the ground and curled up to sleep.
“So, can we kill ’er now?” asked a very bored Barid.
“Nae yet,” sighed Brightbeard. “There is one more player that has yet to make an appearance in this festival of failure.”
“Who’s dat?” asked the Troll, who was now doing a handstand for no apparent reason.
“A Paladin who also happens tae be a rapist,” spat Tauren!Brightbeard. “He seems tae be a recurring character in this story, as there is an author’s note that states that his identity will be revealed in a future chapter.”
Barid flipped sideways and landed on his feet. “Let me guess,” he said, “long blonde hair?”
“Ye guessed it. Probably an Arthas clone. How Arthas is supposed tae be up here when he should be fighting the Scourge in Lordaeron, I have nae idea.”
“Do we have ta stay ’ere?” asked the Troll. “Dere ain’t nothin’ ta do ’ere.”
“True,” said the Dwarf as he pulled his Remote Activator from one of the pouches on his belt. A portal opened a short distance from them and they stepped through into the next day. They found themselves standing at a fork in the road. They just had time to find cover when Thrall and the Sue came over a rise.
The Orc and the Sue decided to split up and take different paths. The agents followed the Sue and watched as she was taken by surprise by a Paladin in full plate armor who had been standing in plain view, just off the path.
“I thought she was supposed tae be half Elf,” said Brightbeard with a grin. “Nae Elf that I’ve ever met could have failed tae see him standing there.”
“Dat’s only ’cause every Elf ya evah met had a brain.”
In the few seconds that the agents had been talking, the Paladin had somehow managed to get the Sue tied up and hung by her wrists from a tree.
“A’right, dat was impress—ow!” Barid put his hand to his head. “Ya don’ have ta hit me ev’ry time I t’ink somet’in’ is impressive.”
“Someone has tae keep ye from falling under the spell of these Sues,” Brightbeard said gruffly. “And maybe that’ll teach ye tae mess with the Disguise Generator.”
Barid glared at his partner, muttered something under his breath, and turned to watch the Sue and Paladin sulkily. He had to admit that, after the impressive bit with getting her tied up, the rest of this was pretty boring. All the Paladin did was comment on how beautiful and how un-Orc-like the Sue was. The worst part of the whole thing was that the blow to the head seemed to have made it impossible for Barid’s eyes to focus. They kept slipping from the scene to the Words and back again.
"You have soft skin, orc," he sneered, though the venom was gone, "so unlike your fellow brethren's…and this certain aura you give off…tell me…are you a princess of a tribe?"
"Unlike you humans, we orcs only answer to our chieftains. All must work their keep," she spat, "we are all equal."
"I see," the human murmured continuing to gaze intensely at her, "but one does wonder how you have attained such beauty and alluring aura…"
He looked at her ears and smiled, "there it is." He touched her ears, "your part elf."
“ . . . because half-Elf-half-Orcs are a silver a dozen around here,” muttered Brightbeard, who was trying to decide which charge to write first. After a moment he decided to charge the Paladin several times for “Conduct Unbecoming of a Knight of the Silver Hand.”
“Did ya catch da ‘we are all equal’ bit?” asked Barid, whose vision was clearing slightly.
“Aye,” replied the Dwarf in Tauren’s clothing. “Not quite the same picture we got earlier, is it?”
“Not one bit,” agreed Barid, who watched as the twig that had been holding the Sue up snapped and she started rolling around on the ground with the Paladin.
"I said," he whispered, "hold still."
He bent his head and kissed the orc forcefully. Sharya was stupefied. For a moment she forgot how to breathe. What in blazes was the human doing to her?!! She struggled again in vain for he had her pinned down. She tried to scream but his tongue invaded her mouth. Feeling sure that the human was trying to possess her or something, she finally wretched her mouth free from his.
“She’s dumb,” noted Barid. “Dat is not how ya possess someone.”
“Hm,” said Brightbeard. “According to the author’s note at the end of the chapter, Orcs don’t kiss. They prefer ‘intimate cuddling’ due to their tusks getting in the way of kissing.”
“Dat ain’t quite true,” said the Troll, who was grinning like an idiot. “Da Orc ladies like ta bite.”
“How inappropriate,” remarked Brighbeard dryly. “Thank you.”
This back-and-forth would have gone on longer were it not for the fact that the Sue picked that moment to scream for help.
“I vote for killin’ ’er now,” said Barid as he stood up. “All in favah?”
“Aye,” said his partner as he put his chargelist away and drew his war hammer. The agents began to move in as the Sue continued to struggle.
He kissed her again. She couldn't let him in her mouth again. It felt as if he was going to take over her body or something. Although she didn't fight him anymore, she refused to part her teeth. Smirking, he reached between her thighs.
"let's see how you respond to this, woman." He whispered to her ear, "you will succumb to me."
"Sharya!" a voice roared.
The human was taken off her instantaneously. Thrall was ...
. . . not there. Standing over the Sue was a very large Tauren who had just knocked the Paladin into a nearby tree with his hammer.
“He’s gonna try tae run, Barid,” said the Tauren; “ye’d best do something about that.”
Sharya was stunned. This was not at all how things were supposed to be going. She looked over at her attacker and saw a Troll standing over him. By the look of him, the Troll was a Witchdoctor, like herself. These were obviously allies. “Thank you, kind Tauren,” she began.
“Ye’ll want tae save that fer bit,” said the Tauren. He cleared his throat and began reading from a small notebook. “Now, as I was saying; Sharya, ye’re hereby charged with bein’ a Mary Sue. Ye’re also charged with Caps Lock abuse and with causing a hugely inaccurate introduction that made my partner far too happy. For having nae concept of the timeline of the Warcraft universe. For being from an uncanonical clan. For being an uncanonical half breed which, by the way, is even more unlikely due tae the fact that ye never specified which type of Elf ye’re descended from.”
“But I . . . ” she sputtered.
“Shut it, missy,” snapped Agent Brightbeard. “Ye’ll get yer chance tae speak, if ye behave.” The Sue sulked in a way that was obviously meant to be cute. Brightbeard glared at her and continued reading his charge list. “Ye are also charged with being the uncanonical love interest fer Thrall. Fer portraying female Orcs alternately as delicate housewives and as powerful warriors, only one of which is actually true. For wangsting about yer perfection. Last, and certainly nae least, fer creating an entire subcontinent where there should only be ocean. For this and more, ye are sentenced tae death. Have ye anything tae say in yer defense?”
“I just thought it would be cool if Thrall actually had an orc-to-orc relationship,” whined Sharya.
“Then perhaps ye should have been an actual Orc,” suggested Brightbeard. He then brought the hammer down on her, both literally and figuratively. That done, he turned to his partner, who was sitting on the Paladin’s chest. The Paladin seemed to be trying to yell, though not a word of it was heard.
“Silence spell,” offered Barid; “never leave home wit’out it.”
“Excellent choice,” said Agent Brightbeard, as he held out the charge list. “If ye’ll do the honors?”
Barid took the list and stood up. His partner moved in to put a hoof on the Paladin’s chest. “Nameless Paladin, ya bein’ charged wit bein’ a copy of Art’as Menet’il in his days as a Paladin. Ya further charged wit conduct unbecomin’ of a Knight of da Silvah Hand. Lastly, ya charged wit havin’ no other use dan ta be a potential rapist. For dese crimes, da sentence be deat’. An’ I’d give ya last words, but dat spell has another couple minutes on it.” He then said something in a language that his partner didn’t understand and the Paladin stopped struggling and lay dead on the ground.
“What did ye do?” asked the stunned Dwarf, his Tauren mouth hanging open.
“Shadow Word: Deat’,” Barid explained nonchalantly. “Ya didn’ t’ink I was just ’ere ta look good, did ya? Now go find T’rall while I take care a’business.” He set to work sharpening his belt knife.
Eager to be away from the scene of Barid’s strange hobby, Brightbeard set off into the woods to find Thrall. He found the Orc standing dazed in a clearing with the Doomhammer sitting on the ground next to him. The Warchief did not look good. Brightbeard picked up the Orc’s hammer, then took him by the hand and led him back to Barid. When they arrived, he noticed that Barid was not alone; Rathkurr was standing in the clearing looking just as slack-jawed and unresponsive as Thrall. On Rathkurr’s shoulders rode a Wrath-cadet. The mini was wearing the map of Durotar as a cape.
“Look what I found,” said a very excited Barid, who was standing over the headless bodies of the Sue and Paladin. “Da little guy was ridin’ da big guy down da road.”
“We’ll take them both back with us after this is all sorted out,” said an exasperated Brightbeard. “Now, is there anything ye can do for the Warchief?”
Barid walked over the two, now headless, bodies that were on the ground. He looked deep into Thrall’s eyes. “Stand back,” he told his partner; “I’m gonna use some powerful Voodoo and I don’ want ya ta get hurt.” The Tauren stepped backwards a few yards and waited anxiously for the intricate and powerful spell that he knew must be coming.
Barid prepared himself with a little stretching. When he was ready, the Troll cleared his throat. “Hey, T’rall,” he yelled. “Wake up!” And with that he slapped the Warchief across the face.
Thrall shook his head for a moment and put a hand to his cheek. “Where am I?” he asked. “By my Ancestors, I can’t remember how I came to be here.” He then noticed the Troll standing in front of him. “You, tell me what has happened. I can hear the spirits screaming in agony.”
“Warchief,” started Barid, with more respect than anyone had ever heard in his voice before, “ya wouldn’t believe me if I told ya. Let’s just say dat dis area ain’t natural. We could use yer help wit dat, by da way.” The Warchief looked dumbfounded as he listened to what Barid had in mind.
“Very well,” he said, “but we need to get out of here first.”
Brightbeard opened a portal, through which they threw the two bodies. The heat on the other side was intense since the portal opened two feet above the lava of Molten Core. The bodies disposed of, another portal was opened, this time to a bright forest. Brightbeard led Rathkurr and his mini through the portal and Thrall and Barid followed. They were standing in the Eversong Woods, right where the trees should have given way to a beach and ocean.
Thrall looked at the agents for a moment and then knelt down and placed his hands on the ground. He began to chant, a low rumbling sound that came from deep inside his chest. As his chant gained power, it was echoed by the rocks around them. The agents almost lost their footing as the ground began to rip itself apart just a few feet from them. As the ground shattered, the ocean water rushed in to fill the breaches. After a few minutes Thrall stopped chanting. Where there had been a forest, there was now a beautiful beach.
“Thank you, my friends,” said the Warchief as he straightened up. “The Horde shall know of the service you have done this day.”
“Actually,” interrupted Agent Brightbeard, “they won’t.” He pressed a button and there was a red flash from the neuralyzer in his hand.
Epilogue
The portal deposited the agents and their charges back in RC #1986. Brightbeard was leading Rathkurr by the hand, the Wrath-cadet still on the Orc’s shoulders.
“What are we gonna do wit dose guys?” asked Barid, as he tossed his hat into the hammock.
“Well, bein’ that the mini refuses tae get off of the Orc, I suppose I’ll have to take them both tae FicPsych. Let them sort it out.”
As Brightbeard led the Orc and mini toward the door, Barid took two heads out of his bag. “Ey, Brightbeard,” said the Troll, “I’m gonna be workin’ for a while. Why don’ ya stop by da Cafeteria and get me some more food?”
Brightbeard stopped at the door and turned to his partner. “Why don’t ye go get some food fer yerself? It isn’t like yer doin’ anything important.”
“Dis be very important,” exclaimed the offended Troll. “If I don’ shrink da heads den da Sues would be able to come back. Ya know dat our world has frequent reincarnation. Shrinkin’ da head traps da soul.”
“Ye mean that all o’ those heads have souls trapped in ’em?” Brightbeard shuddered. “We’ll talk about the heads when I get back. I still don’t see why I have tae get food fer ye.”
“I’ll tell ya why,” said Barid as he pulled a cauldron out of his closet. “Racism.”
“I think that’s all in yer head, lad.”
“No, dey have a sign on da Cafeteria door. It says, ‘Don’ feed da Trolls’.”
Brightbeard began laughing. He kept laughing as he took Rathkurr and Durotar down to FicPsych. In fact, he didn’t stop laughing until he reached the Cafeteria and saw what they were serving. No sane person could laugh at Cafeteria food, especially when they were about to eat it.
This is the first mission for Barid and Brightbeard in the All-Purpose Department, Warcraft Division. The mission is based on “Warcraft epic” by Akire-san. Betas were Neshomeh, Miah, and Crimsonoutsider.