Monday, July 8, 2013

Day One: Orientation

I have successfully arrived in Azeroth, having appeared at a place called the Northshire Abbey. My superiors sent me here with no promise of returning, but that didn't matter much to me.  I hardly had many friends to begin with.

I was never expressly told what my purpose here was, but they seemed interested in gathering information. On what, I don't know. They told me I would be learning a new type of magic, but I've already graduated the academy with certifications in hælmancy (old world term for healing magic). They wouldn't tell me much more than that, except a little background on the world.

A group called the "Alliance" has just overthrown a "lich king". The Alliance seems to be mostly composed of other humans and they are working on reenforcing their holdings following this war. Another group, called the "Horde", is their chief adversary now, and they are prepared for conflict.

So my primary mission is to describe everything I see and do and learn while in this world, with the hopes that it will be useful to someone. I suppose they wouldn't send me here to learn unless they intended to bring me back... right?

The first thing I noticed when I arrived was that my body didn't feel much like my own. I expected to wake up in a bedroom, or somewhere out of the way, but I was in front of a church.  No one noticed my appearance. I was wearing a different robe. Fancier than the one back home, but still primarily white, more layers, and light armor underneath. A bent stick was on my back.  I suddenly missed my old staff.  I resented it, but at least I know it was capable of magic. This one, I'm not sure.

The Northshire Abbey

I approached the entrance and met a man who introduced himself as Marshal McBride. He was nice enough for royal military (and to someone shown up from thin air).

Apparently my arrival wasn't uncommon, they were taking volunteers as recruits to beat back the forces bearing down on them. He thought I was one of them, from a place called Stormwind (wherever that is). Whether this was told to him or assumed, I don't know.

He welcomed me, told me this was Northshire Abbey, and showed me a common room within. The spot of hay I claimed was cleaner than I expected from a church-turned-refugee camp. No bugs or nits that I could see.  A few wounded men hunched around the halls, recovering.

Before I'd flattened down my patch of straw, he gave me my first assignment. Some animals called "Blackrock Worgs" (a wolf-pig animal) had flanked the building, and the soldiers needed help. I was about to protest that I was only a healer, when I felt something spring inside me. Still trying to understand this sensation, McBride led me out and shoved me in the direction of the fighting force's circle.

A worg

Armored knights held swords against these wolf-pigs, using tall oaks for cover. As I approached the fray, I realized a few things. One: this new feeling was a magic spell, one I had never felt before. Most of my magic took great practice and confidence--belief.  Two: this magic spell could harm. I'd never known any magic but restoring a broken system.  Now I could do the breaking.  That in itself was worth the trip alone

After a few fumbles, I could create a slicing blade of energy. It wasn't worth much more than a short sword, but it gave me a sense of satisfaction.

My big concern was why the worgs were attacking. I could wander through their ranks without inducing any wrath. They didn't attack me, or anyone, unless attacked first.  Were they wild? Badly trained? A trap or gambit? I don't know, and won't likely ask.

Sunset came and I was fatigued.  I was about to return and retire for the night when I saw some humanoids hidiing behind the trees. They had green skin, pointed ears, and wore roughshod armor and weapons. Some were spying through telescopes and others were sneaking from tree to tree. If they were spies, then they were the worst ever (if I could spot them). However, I think I got my first glimpse of what others referred to as an "orc". If that's what they were, then there's going to be big trouble for this little abbey.

Some kind of spy or assassin?

--Caden Watkins

No comments:

Post a Comment