Tales of Mort5

Mort giggled. And when Mort giggled... Well, yeah, you know the score.
He'd been killing Centaur in the Barrens most of the day and enjoying every minute. Being a Priest wasn't so bad, he'd learned. Oh, sure, there had been a bit of "getting used to", that's for certain. Grumbling, he'd done as the Shadow Priest in Death Knell had suggested and gone about killing the Mindless Ones, growing in power with each kill. After what seemed like agonizing amounts of "Holy", he'd gone back to see the Priest Trainer and been told he'd now learn something which changed his perspective. 
Shadow.
Oh, Shadow was alright, then. And when he'd first used Shadow Word: Pain upon one of the Scarlet Zealots, he found himself doubled over laughing while the Human writhed about in agony. Oh yes, this would do NICELY. Very nice, indeed. No longer was Mort limited to that "blasted HOLY rubbish!" Now he was learning to be a Shadow Priest, and it suited him just fine. He could hardly contain himself when his Mind Blast would rip the skull clean off his kill, or cause it's brains to shoot out its ears like a fountain. Sometimes he'd just laugh himself silly.
He'd also learned some humility. A young Foresaken Warrior had been rude to him, and Mort had challenged him to a duel. It was over quickly, and Mort found himself groveling while the Warrior stood over him, laughing. That, he had decided, would never happen again. 
During his first visit to the ruins of Lorderan (and a few moments to savor the glorious pain still lingering in the King's throne room), Mort had run into an Orc and a Troll making their way to the Weapons Master within the Foresaken capital. He'd met an Orc once before, while he was alive. The thing was obviously lost and had thought the Old Human would be an easy kill, seeing Mort sitting on his porch, and charged... Right through the garden. Looking at the bulging muscles and sharp teeth on the one in Lorderan, Mort figured it would be wise NOT to relate this story, regardless of how enjoyable it had been at the time. 
Mort spent some time talking with the pair and learned about Orgrimmar and the Barrens. The wide open, dusty plains, the creatures stalking about, the variety of creatures to kill. 
"Never have been ter Kalimdor" Mort said. "Whut's that Goblinish Zeppelin like?"
"Oh, it amazin', mon. Ya can find it outside da' city, up on da' hill out dere. Dem' good at buildin' t'ings, dem Goblin', and da' Zeps, dem don't crash as much as dem used ta'" the Troll, Venzul, had told him. Mort was still getting the grasp of Orcish, but found he was learning steadily through frequent use. Venzul's accent was very heavy, but they managed to communicate just fine.
He'd been right. Mort found the Zeppelin Tower easily and had traveled to Orgrimmar, then made the journey to the Crossroads. And he'd learned and gained power quickly since that day. 
There was so much to do! So much to KILL. And all these new found allies, the other species of the Horde. They fascinated him. In particular the Tauren females... There was SO much of them to look at, and they were SO very female, their armor barely able to contain, well, their ... Parts. Mort had been old when he'd turned Undead, and he'd have thought that his mind was well past wandering in carnal directions, but when he'd first taken in the sight of a she-Tauren in battle, her axe swinging one way while ample bits of her seemed to swing the other, barely contained within the chain mail bikini she wore, he'd very nearly passed out.
It was this train of thought which had Mort's attention right now, for the most part, and he'd begun to get sloppy. He wasn't keeping an eye on his back, and just as he felled a large male Centaur, he heard a sound which turned his blood cold. It was the sound of hooves, many hooves, and the evil laughter of Hyena. 
An arrow thudded into his hip causing him to howl in pain as four Hyena landed on and tore into him. Mort's mind cried out and turned into a Scream, causing the Hyena to flee and giving him a chance to stand. Running from him were the four beasts and two Centaur, also affected by his mind's Scream. Gritting his teeth he ripped the arrow free, targeted one of the beasts and lashed out, his Shadow Word assaulting it's nerves and searing them with pain. Two seconds later, it's brain burst from its ears and nose and it dropped dead. Another beast was near and fell the same way. 
The Centaur, where the hell did those Centaur go? 
"Oh Mort you silly bugger... They run right inter that camp o' their mates" he said, seeing now six Centaur warriors galloping toward him. They skidded to a halt just outside of spell range and seemed to talk, their hyena joining them and another coming from the camp. Six full grown Centaur warriors and three of their hounds. Mort couldn't understand their grunting, guttural language, but he had the feeling they weren't thinking of inviting him to tea.
"What're yeh waiting fer, ye Sons of a MULE?! C'mon! Ye want a bit of MORT do yeh?! Wull COME ON! I h'aint afraid o' DEATH, but can any of YEW say the same!?" Mort waved his mace menacingly. "I'm gonner die today, aye... But I'm bringin' a fair number of yer FLEA bitten HIDES WITH ME!" Spittle flew from Mort's mouth and his eyes glowed a bright but sickly green. If Death was coming for him this day, so be it, but he wasn't going to go down easy.
At a loud yell from their masters, the hyena charge with the Centaur right behind. Mort's Holy Shield went up and he blasted the closest Centaur's mind just as the hyena hit. Arrows bounced off the shield, but it wouldn't hold long. Mort swung his mace and sent a hyena rolling, but it got right back up and leapt at him, knocking him from his feet just as an arrow passed through his faded shield and slammed into his shoulder.
Three hyena ravaged his arms as he staggered to his feet, gritting his teeth and beginning to cast what would be his last spell, and for all the sunny day Mort could swear he heard the sound of a storm brewing. "Oh, ain't that just bloody nice..." he thought, beginning to black out, "I'm about ter die... again... and it's going to RAIN on top of all that? That's just lovely that is." What little hair Mort had on his head suddenly stood straight up.
A bolt of lighting struck the hound on Mort's right arm, blowing it into a fine, red mist as it arced to the other two, knocking them off and roasting them instantly. The thunderclap blew Mort right off his feet and he landed with a thud on his backside. 
The Centaur barely had time to realize what was happening before it was over. 
A she-Tauren, screaming "FOR BLOODHOOF! FOR KALIMDOR!! FOR THE THUNDERHORN!!!" charged them, a large glowing mace in one hand and a skull shaped flaming shield in the other. She was clad in armor Mort recognized as being made from Dragon Scales, some of it black, some blue. One of the Centaur recovered enough from shock to fire an arrow, which ricocheted off her shield and into the forehead of one of his friends. Then she was on him, her mace slamming into his face with such force his head was nearly removed and he fell, and stayed down. She spun and her hands shot out in front of her as if to push at the next attacker, and Mort saw a blast of green light, then the flying body of a Centaur sailed past, slamming into the side of an outcropping of rock.
There was a flash of white light and a Mage, another Forsaken, appeared among the remaining three. With a blast of arctic air from him, all three were suddenly frozen solid, then a flick of his hands and Arcane energy exploded outward, shattering them.
Mort sat, too stunned to move, as the Tauren stood over him. She incanted softly, and Mort's body glowed and began healing itself, the arrow in his shoulder falling to the ground. When she'd finished she sat heavily at his side, reached into a bag on her belt, and pulled out a greasy and rather dubious looking haunch of meat.
"Ham?" she said.
The Mage stood not far off, leaning nonchalantly on a runed, glowing sword. "Hello, old man. I'm Noch, and my Shaman friend here is Djuna. You OK?"
Category:Stories
Category:UncleMort