Sunset

[Flamestrider]

Hey everybody, I don't post around here often. I'm a regular contributor to the Single Player Forum, but recently, I've been writing a bit of a Warcraft Fanfic. Just a warning to all of you: knowing me, I'll probably never finish this. In fact, I probably won't get much further than what I have currently written, which is a prologue. The story is set in the Warcraft Universe. I have no idea what its name will be, but the prologue is named Sunset. So, enjoy.

Sunset

The sun had passed its zenith, and its rays danced on the few remaining russet leaves on otherwise barren branches. Then the winds picked up, sweeping down from the lofty Alterac Mountains into the foothills and shaking the limbs of the battered trees. The sun’s golden beams emitted no warmth, and the cold air announced the imminent arrival of winter. It was late. Too late, thought Sarim grimly, as he treaded through the fallen leaves. His bags were already heavy with furs and meats, but they would need all the supplies they could get to survive the winter. After one last kill, Sarim resolved. It had been a long day, and it was not safe to linger. These days, anything could be lurking in the Hillsbrad Foothills.

Wearily, the young orc pulled an oaken hunter’s bow from his back, holding it ready before him. And then he allowed himself a brief smile. This old bear had been a wary one, as elusive as it was dangerous. But he had not lost track of its trail, and now it had finally let its guard down. It stood on a distant hilltop, silhouetted in the glow of the afternoon sun. Steadying his aim, he drew back and fired. With some satisfaction, he watched as the arrow hit its mark, and the beast slumped over motionless. Sarim shouldered his bow once more, and began walking up the hillside, relieved that he could finally begin his journey back up into the mountains. The sun was sinking rapidly and he knew he would not make it back to Frostwolf Village before dark.

As he made his way onward up the hill, Sarim heard distant noises. As he drew closer, they became more distinct: the crackle of flames and the clash of steel, the shouts of soldiers and the cries of civilians. Reaching the top of the rise, he realized they were coming from below, from the town of Tarren Mill, now bathed in the sun’s fiery glow. Another battle, and this time, things did not look good for the humans. Even from so far away, he could see that the defenders were vastly outnumbered by the relentless undead legions. It had started perhaps a week ago. Sarim had heard stories telling of the fall of the northern provinces of Lordaeron, and a civil war of sorts among the undead. Then they appeared in the foothills without warning and besieged Tarren Mill, slowly wearing away at the town’s defenses. The Frostwolf clan never got involved. With Drek’Thar still far away in Kalimdor, they could not afford to make new enemies. Sarim gazed down at Tarren Mill once more. Fully half the town was on fire, and chaos reigned among the surviving humans. Poor souls, he thought. But it is not my fight.

Sarim turned his attention back to the dead bear in front of him. Wasting no more time, he skillfully skinned it and cut off large slabs of meat. Wrapping the pieces in strips of hide, he slipped them into a bag and stood up. The fastest way back was to follow the banks of the Thondroril River. Pausing, he looked back at Tarren Mill one last time. By now it had been completely overrun, and the surviving humans, if there were any, were nowhere in sight.

But then Sarim realized he was wrong. There were at least two survivors, a man and a woman, scrambling up the hillside below in a vain attempt to outrun their pursuers, five men clad in rusty chainmail. Not, not men. There was no light in those pale gray eyes. An undead mage rode several paces behind the warriors, astride a skeletal horse. Sarim watched in horror as the mage chanted some inaudible words and lifted one withered hand high into the air. The horse reared up as a ball of flame burst from its master’s open hand and engulfed the fleeing man. Shrieking, the human fell to the ground, writhing in agony as he attempted to extinguish the flames. Within seconds, he had stopped moving entirely. The girl sank to her knees, tears in her eyes, as she looked down at the body of the man who had doubtlessly been her mate, and Sarim got his first good look at her. She was young, no more than nineteen, and, he supposed, what humans might call beautiful. She clutched the small bundle strapped to her chest tightly, and Sarim heard a faint cry. A baby, he realized. The girl is a mother.

Sarim looked back at the undead. The mage had already ridden away, and the warriors appeared to be heading back towards Tarren Mill. Were they just going to leave her? No, not all of them were leaving. One was walking towards the sobbing girl deliberately, with a horrible smile on his face. Neither the warrior nor the girl had noticed Sarim.

The orc thought quickly. Captain Galvangar, who led the Frostwolf Clan in Drek’Thar’s absence, had warned them all repeatedly not to get involved in these battles. Sarim thought of all the suffering the humans had inflicted on his people. He had spoken to survivors of the internment camps, and witnessed firsthand the effects of Alliance brutality. But the Warchief himself had been raised by humans; not all of them were evil. She’s clutching an infant, and she’s barely more than a child herself. She did nothing to deserve this. Only five seconds had passed, but Sarim had made his choice. The girl shrieked as she turned and saw the burly orc come barreling down the slope towards her, clutching his heavy iron club in both hands. The undead warrior raised an enormous axe. The blade glinted in the fiery light of the setting sun. Then Sarim’s club struck him full force in the face, and he stumbled back in surprise, dropping the weapon. Roaring, Sarim swung the club again, crushing his opponent’s bones again and again, until he stopped moving.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sarim saw that the girl had pulled herself to her feet. But he had other things to worry about. The four remaining undead were now running towards him. He backed up warily, breathing heavily. Just before the undead reached him, Sarim dropped to the ground and swung his club in a wide arc, knocking the first of his opponents to the ground, and crushed the downed zombie’s skull with a precisely aimed blow. The second warrior was about to bear his sword down on the orc, when a blast of fire suddenly struck him in the chest, and he stumbled backwards, dropping his sword. Sarim looked at the girl in astonishment and saw steely determination in her face. So, she’s an apprentice mage. Recovering from the blast, the warrior picked up his sword and strode towards them. But her powers are still weak. She cannot help me here.

“Run!” he roared, knowing that she would not understand. She looked at him in surprise, but did not move. The undead had advanced again, and Sarim leapt backwards as one of them slashed horizontally with a cruel two-handed sword. Regaining his balance, the orc swung his club forcefully and delivered a crushing blow to the closest of the undead, then looked back up at the others just as a blade slid smoothly into his stomach.

Sarim sunk to his knees. There was silence for a few moments, and then the sound of quick footsteps. At least she made the right choice. He looked up at the two undead towering over him, speaking in strange hissing sounds. They were going to follow her. At least she can get away. Ignoring the blood in his mouth, Sarim gathered his remaining energy and spit up in the face of one of the undead. His senses began to dim, and he wasn’t quite sure what happened after that. He felt something collide with his head, and he hit the ground. He saw the glint of metal, and felt a sharp pain as a sword cut into his forearm. With the last of his strength, he looked out over the hillside. The girl was nowhere in sight. They won’t be able to find her. The two remaining undead began to walk back towards Tarren Mill.

The last dying rays of the sun cast ominous shadows over the young orc, now alone on the hillside. Then came sunset. Sarim let out one last breath, and died.

[Rowan Seven]

It's been a while since I last posted on this forum, but this story is definitely worth making an exception for. The scenes are beautifully and vividly described, and the opening gracefully depicted the setting. You appear to have a good eye for details, and you seamlessly integrated this tale with the Warcraft setting. I never once doubted that the events described were taking place in Blizzard's world. The main character of the prologue was compelling, and even though I didn't have much time to get to know him the type of person he was came across clearly. Sarim's fate surprised me, but in a good way, and it was an interesting route to take and quickly reinforced the realism of the story. I am left wondering, though, who this story (if you continue it) is supposed to be about: Sarim or the mother and child? Anyway, my only real complaint is with your description of the Forsaken conquest of Tarren Mill. It seemed a little vague to me, and while not necessary I think I might've liked reading a few more details about the battle. Despite that, this is a thoroughly enjoyable story, and I'm glad you shared it with us.

[Flamestrider]

Glad you liked it. In retrospect, it seems that the descriptions of the battle are a little rushed. But the whole prologue is told from Sarim's point of view. Until he sees the girl, the battle doesn't interest him that much; he's more concerned with finishing his hunt and getting back to Frostwolf Village. I intended to make Sarim's death surprising; that's the reason I put the part about him getting stabbed at the end of such a long sentence. There are four clauses preceding it, and with each one, the sentence kind of gains momentum, coming to an abrubt halt when he is stabbed. At least, that's the way it read to me.

About the characters: the prologue is in Sarim's POV, but other chapters (obviously) are not. The story I have in mind right now is ridiculously complex, featuring lots of other characters who haven't been introduced yet. But yes, the mother is a main character. Sarim though not really a main character, is important to the story in other ways, but I won't say any more than that. Hopefully, I can simplify the plot a bit. I'll try to keep writing, but like I said before, it's not likely to ever reach a conclusion.

[grace12]

Cold Case DVD
Frasier DVD