Baring Teeth

Corporal Desmond Hodges kept his mouth firmly shut as the two Kor'kron soldiers studied the scene ahead with just one spyglass between them. He was impressed by their ability to refrain from trying to grab it out of each other's hands, in order to get another look down the rather archaic scouting tool. They actually shared. They actually placed the spyglass into the other's hands without being prompted. It was truly cooperation at work Perhaps they had some kind of telepathy going on?
'And you say they've been settled there for how long, Desmond?'
Oooh, Desmond. He liked that. Orcs rarely addressed Forsaken by their first names. His reputation in Dagger and Totem was getting him chummy with the status quo.
'They've been like that for about four days, Captain,' he responded.
'For days. And have they received any reinforcements?'
'Twice.'
'What?' asked the second orc. This one was a bit more familiar. Conservative values. Quick to question a walking corpse. You had to love the fella.
'They've had two half a dozen strong groups join them. Mix of footmen and more colourful folk. Couple of dwarf priests, in fact.'
'That's about twenty in total, then...' the captain grunted, and then put a hand within his Orgrimmar tabard. When it came back into view, a small metallic sphere was being held by his clenched fingers.
'Should an orc like you be in possession of one of those, Captain?' asked Hodges, showing an admirable willingness to be punched in the neck.
'You've just earned the privilege of undertaking a hazardous but honourable mission for the Horde, Desmond,' grinned the captain, too delighted to bother growling.
'Excellent. Did you like that I got myself forced into this rather than volunteering, this saving face with my Forsaken chums and not appearing as a tongue-tickler of orc buttocks?'
'Yes. Very crafty, Desmond. You didn't have to point it out, though,' said the orc flatly, before he pushed the grenade into the Forsaken's hands.
'Have fun with it,' said the captain's second, leaning his shoulder against a dead tree. He gave Hodges a cold stare.
The corporal began to trudge off, down the gentle slope they had been spying on the Alliance from, and onwards towards the encampment. It was becoming increasingly clear now with the Lich King wiped off the face of the planet (and Hodges was very pleased about this, albeit a lot less pleased than he thought he would be...), the idiots and cretins from Ironforge, Stormwind et al were now pooling for efforts into retaking Lordaeron.
Which was extremely foolish of them.
Ugh. Just hearing their voices made him wince. They all started off so brave and heroic and self-righteousness, and yet would break into routes when confronted by forces numerous and terrible - IE the truth. The dilemma for these morons was that Lordaeron was full of forces numerous and terrible, and with a few... irritating exceptions, they all belonged to the Banshee Queen.
He briefly turned around to check his progress, and saw the two Kor'kron there, watching intently. They had eyes for battle. They didn't fear it. They didn't have obsessions with heroism. Honour, yes, but not heroism.
The camp was shielded by a copse of trees, and it was difficult to get a look at the soldiers who used it beyond occasionally glimpses of them moving back and forth between the tents.
But he could see one of the dwarves now. He was the big give away - the kind of chirpy jester who Hodges despised seeing in Dalaran. Have a bit entertainment with your heals, his relaxed saunter seemed to say. No need to feel down, because here's a ducking clown...
He was sort of all right with that attitude in Dalaran; one had to make compromises to get at the Scourge after all (why did revenge not feel as sweet as they said it would? It irked Hodges. Constantly irked him) but he wasn't going to accept it here, in his homeland. He wasn't going to suffer the presence of dwarves or Stormwind soldiers. At least the Scarlets had the decency to hail from Lordaeron.
They must have thought they had a brilliant camouflage for the camp here, with their small brown tents. They had even foregone the comforts of a fire in favour of obscurity. But such cheap tricks didn't quite work. The trees that surrounded the encampment weren't brown. They were blackened. Not charred, not burnt - just blackened. The plague had devoured them.
As for the fire... no. It made no difference to Hodges whatsoever, because he could still see the robes of the annoying dwarf priest. To his bemusement, they sparkled. Hodges wondered about the second dwarf that he knew was here. Did his own robes beam out the image of Uther the Lightbringer whenever he cast a spell? Did his staff start belting out the Ironforge National Anthem at inappropriate moments?
Hodges licked the left wall of his mouth as he readied the grenade. The Kor'kron had got the Apothecaries to make these things in bundles, and they were absolutely delightful. To Hodges' considerably relief, the orcs had managed to convince the notoriously stubborn Forsaken to concoct something that didn't carry a plague of any kind. It was madness.
Still, he wasn't complaining. As he readied to chuck it, his lips moved slowly and quiet, deliberate words escaped his mouth.
'And so the heroes entered the beast's domain,' he said, as if reciting poetry. 'And they shouted, "Come, dragon! Come and be slain!"'
Hodges bit off the pin.
'The dragon emerged from the gloom, and it was then that the heroes sensed their doom.'
He chucked the grenade.
'The monster could be seen from head to tail. Reason enough for their faces to pale.'
He waited.
'Fiery flames brewed inside the dragon's chest, and his targets became quite distressed...'
The intolerable dwarf wandered over, and seeing the metal ball, wondered what it was.
'And so the heroes were burnt to their deaths, slaughtered by the lizard's molten breaths.'
The bomb went off, and the will of the Forsaken was carried out. The stocky priest was blown backwards, tossed up into the air like he was a mere pebble for the Titans to throw. The explosion made a mockery of his skin. And from the bomb leapt more bursts of flame. They somersaulted into the air, and came down mercilessly - on hair and skin and eyes. Tents were not spared and neither were hoods, coifs, or, as a matter of fact, trees. And whilst they did not turn black, many things did. Humans, dwarves and horses. Entire faces were reduced to ash in the blink of an eye.
'But the dragon was not yet sated,' said Hodges, as he heard two pairs of plated boots charging behind him. 'Those humans he really hated.'
He started to talk into the trees. With justifiable confidence, he drew his sword. A smile came to his crusty, undead lips as he noticed the ruin robe of the dwarf he had so despised. Smoke was already beginning to rise above the highest trees, but the screams had not stopped. It was time to deal with them.
'Thus the lizard began to cull the cattle; there had never been a proper battle.'
His first victim was a mage. He grabbed the helpless human's shoulder, and dragged him into the cruel long edge of his excessively sharpened sword. The Vrykul weapon cut through flesh easily, Hodges withdrawing it just before it cut the body in two completely. The two orcs had entered the fray, too. They operated with a tameness that Hodges found rather sterile. He supposed the agonised cries that were met by no rescue or even chance of escape had put them off.
'There were to be no happy endings for the heroes brave. Their bodies and minds devastated in the dragon's cave.'
He stamped his foot down on a choking dwarf's neck. As it turned out, this second imbecile had bright green goggles. Not that they were much use, covered in blood as they were.
'And so the beast returned to the depths of his lair,' said Hodhes, looking up at the two orcs approaching him. 'His silver teeth now unmistakeably bare.'
The captain grunted. 'Why do you chant these poems, Desmond?'
'I'm a dragon,' the Forsaken drawled, before getting onto more important matters. He looked around the smouldering copse. He'd rarely seen such a professionally made arrangement of corpses. 'They'll be more of them,' he said. 'The Alliance can't wait to send more.'
'Then we'll strike against them too,' said the captain's second.
'And that's just one of the many advantages of having Kor'kron in the city, I suppose,' said Hodges. He straightened up.
'Speaking of the city,' said the captain, 'let's get back to it. I assume you can't wait to tell the Banshee Queen of your good deed, Desmond.'
'Oh yes. I'm allowed to play puppy to her, Captain.' said Hodges, as they began to walk out. 'Lovely fighting with you, by the way.'
'It was an honour, Forsaken,' said the captain. The other orc grunted in acknowledgement, then looked down at his boot. It was covered in slimy, melted flesh. Hodges looked at it, and curiosity became embedded on his face. He scooped down low and making sure to spend as little time there as possible, tore a strip off with his fingers. He pushed it in his mouth, and started to munch.
'Mmm, boneless,' he said, swallowing it. It felt nice and cold on his throat. He didn't even mind that the two orcs exchanged blatantly disgusted looks at each other. He liked this grenades. He could cook his own food with them.
Category:Story