Day Six, Part Two

Kurtok the Slayer, as I suppose he's known among his clan, was found to be responsible for the invasion into the Northshire Valley.  If he's the head of the Blackrock Clan or just this division, or he's a mercenary, I don't know.  But they told me to kill him, so there I was.  Wading across the river again, through the vineyards, and around the burning trees.  For some reason, I destroyed each orc I came across.  I smote them from a distance, then continued rampaging against them.  If I was quick enough, I could kill them before they were even within axe-swinging distance.

I don't know why I did this.  I think I'm still frustrated with what I experienced yesterday.  No one seems to acknowledge it.  Maybe I don't discriminate in my battles anymore, now that I know what's on the other side.  We're all just in timeout, until we can get back on the field.  all these orcs may be coming back.  And the scary part is, I think I proved myself right.

I finally found the corner of the mountains where Kurtok was standing.  Just standing, not planning strategy, not engaging in battle, not communicating with superiors.  Just standing there, in a gate.  So I did what any well-meaning suicidal healing mage would do, and cast my spells at him.  He reacted in the same rhino-like way as his brethren.  He approached me and started swinging.  But it was over in a matter of seconds.  I looked at his corpse on the ground, feeling disappointed.  Maybe I wanted him to kill me.  Maybe I wanted him to become my immortal enemy, where we would continue this dance of death for eternity.

As I was about to leave, I turned back and saw his form fade back in, to the exact place he was standing before.  Standing at the gate, watching, doing nothing.  I don't know if I could get anymore proof that we're all simply mid-level husks, floating back and forth of the line of life of death.  So...  I killed him again.  Effortlessly.  And before his body showed up a third time, I left.

I don't know if I've resolved my feelings about this.  I seem to be downpouring on a tremendous advantage -- who wouldn't want to be immortal.  But on the other hand, it feels like something's fundamentally changed about life.  As if everything I thought was truth was just a lie.

When I returned to Marshal McBride, he thanked me for my service, and offered me a wand as a reward.  Now this was a trip.  In my world, wands were only from fairy tales and storybooks.  It was a bizarre looking thing too, all gnarled and gray.  Then he told me I was dismissed.  I couldn't quite process that at the time, so I asked if I could stay in the abbey one more night.  He said I could stay as long as I liked.

--Caden Watkins

Day Four

Bad night's sleep.  Feeling terrible.  I wonder how much longer I have to stay here, but I really don't know when I could leave.  I'd feel bad about leaving before the invasion is fully contained, and I don't have much money, or much knowledge about the land.  I guess I keep staying here until I feel ready to move on.

McBride told me to meet Willem behind the abbey.  He'd set up a small post with a wagon or two, and the dude had the fanciest armor I'd ever seen.  Giant gold shoulder pads with wings, like eagles perched on his shoulders.  Guy's not one for subtlety.

Willem the Fancy

He told me about some goblin assassins the orcs had hired.  And, of course, wanted me to take out as many as I could.  They were like miniature orcs.  A little more skilled, but still fodder as my skills have been growing.  After I killed eight of them, he sent me back to McBride who, with no hesitation, sent me over to the vineyard.  Finally, I thought.  The thing's only been burning for three days straight.  It's like a mini-war zone over there.

Goblin assassin

For some reason, McBride told me he wanted eight orc weapons, just to prove I had done my duty.  I have no idea where this sudden mistrust came from.  Did he think I was lying about the slaughter I was racking up?  I had plenty of witnesses.  Did he think I was ducking back behind the tree for a smoke of sicar and coming back saying "oh, yeah, got them all, no problem."  Come evening, I trudged back across the river with eight heavy swords on my back.  A volunteer's work is never done, I suppose.  I'm looking forward to the reinforcements, if they ever come.

Before I went back into my spot of the common room (giving McBride the stinkeye), I noticed a woman crying near the entrance, looking longingly across the river.  Scuttlebutt in the commons told me she was the owner of the vineyards, now up in smoke.  I felt like I should've gone out to talk to her, I felt bad that I was being ordered to quell all this mischief, I forgot real people were being affect.  But I was too exhausted to continue.

--Caden Watkins

Day Two

In the morning, the soldiers were still fighting worgs outside. It must be taking its toll on moral, but they seem to have plenty of capable volunteers to rotate in. I rarely see the same face twice.

Breakfast was a plate of warm grits and water. I don't expect much from a makeshift outpost, but I hope the food gets better once the invasion's quelled. I'd hate to be thrown into a different dimension and this is their idea of fine dining.

Socializing hasn't been very successful. There are some recruitment soldiers at a table outside, lieutenants wandering around the grounds. They say hi and "King's Honor", but I can't get any information from them. I'd say they were too busy to talk, but they're not. The soldiers have the fight contained. Other recruits are just as taciturn. I tried striking a conversation with someone who had the same robes as me, asked if he was a hælmancer too. He said he was a mage, then just walked off.

I found McBride again. Instead of going back to killing worgs, like I thought he'd do, he told me about the spies seen wandering around the grounds. I guess they're not as incompetent as I thought they were. Well, I guess that's not fair. I don't know much about this world. Although I will say they don't have as much diversity as I'm used to. It also might explain why they're sending a healer out to perform the tasks of a warrior. They must be overstocked on people like me. If only the guys at home could see me now.

Destroying the spies wasn't too difficult. They were always focused on their targets, never on me. So I could destroy them from long range. Taking a life feels different than restoring one (obviously), but I really felt no compunctions about it. Maybe because these orcs seem more animal than man.

As a reward, McBride gave me a nifty new robe, colored in green. I was thankful for that -- I am so sick of white.

One more thing, while I was in the east on my hunt, I saw a fire across the river in a vineyard. Blackrock warriors were setting fires where others had been quenched by recruits. That made me wonder what kind of attackers we were dealing with. A vineyard's not a very strategic holding. What was these orcs' purpose here? Just marauding and trouble-making? They hide in broad daylight, they set fire to land. If this is an example of their battle prowess, I'm not sure why the Alliance is so worried about maintaining their holdings. Unless there are bigger threats I don't know about.

--Caden Watkins

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