Da_Dude
03-13-2006, 09:34 PM
I wrote this fan fiction and decided to share it with you guys before I post it on the WoW forums. I might have some typos in there, for I and grammer are not good friends...so if you see one post about ti and tell me for I tend to miss this stuff even after I rereread it. So with out further ado here is my story:
Javius Hardhoof dragged the smoke from his pipe. As he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils it swirled around his large brass nose ring. The tauren handed the hand carved pipe down to his dwarven companion. The dwarf placed the pipe in his mouth as he scratched his long, braided, graying beard. The two unlikely friends sat on a flat rock as they stared west watching the golden sun set behind the mountains that bordered Durotan and The Barrens.
Javius turned his head from the setting sun and looked down at his friend.
“I never thought I would see the day when dwarves came to Kalimdor again,” said Javius in a deep rough voice. “My tribe has for generations told of the fierce warriors of stone who fought by their sides in the first coming of the Legion.”
The dwarf pulled the pipe from his mouth said, “Aye, as I nv’r tho’t I’d see tha day when I sat next ta an ally o’ tha orcs, mooch less smoke tabacca next ta une of their settlements.”
The dwarf nudged his head toward a Razor Hill guard, posted outside the gate, that was eyeing him suspiciously.
“Funny ‘ow a war cun bring races tageth’r as well as divide ‘em,” the dwarf commented.
At that comment Javius’s mind rushed back to the battle at Mt. Hyjal. Horde and Alliance alike had joined together to battle the invading Burning Legion. For the first time in many years races fought side by side as brothers at arms. Dwarf and human rejoiced with each kill. Orcs and Humans defended one another’s backs as if each had know the other for years.
That battle was where Javius met the dwarf who, as he cleaved off the head of a demon, introduced himself as Garivan of the Spinebreaker clan. The two fought side by side, smashing all demons who came near them. Each yelling out a war cry, not only for his tribe or race, but for Azeroth and it’s survival.
That battle took place over two years ago and Javius and Garivan had remained together ever since. Although with rising tensions growing between the cities of Orgrimmar and Theramore, making any contact with members of an opposing faction was becoming increasingly difficult.
Javius knew little of the wars that had occurred between his friend’s people and his races new allies the orcs, back in the land they came from, but he knew enough about it to know that any peace that existed between them would never last long. Already there were rumors of a fleet of humans headed for Theramore. Garivan assured Javius that this fleet would not likely act kindly toward the alliance Lady Proudmore had established with Warchief Thrall.
“Do you believe that our kind will ever be at peace, my friend?” asked Javius.
“’Bout as mooch chance as tha moon and tha sun have at sharin’ tha same sky,” Garivan retorted cynically.
Javius thought about this for a moment and then replied, “But the moon and the sun both came from the Earth Mother’s eyes and therefore share a bond despite their differences. Once they even shared the Earth Mother’s face before she ripped them out allowing them to travel the skies.”
Javius’s use of tauren religion and philosophy was lost on Garivan. But the dwarf believed he got the gist of what his friend was saying and replied with a simple “aye” and then passed the pipe back to Javius.
Javius grinned at his friend as he took the pipe back and placed it in his mouth. He realized what he had said was probably lost his dwarven friend; Garivan was better with an axe than he was at words.
Garivan stretched his short limbs out until his bones gave a satisfying pop. He picked up his axe and hopped off the rock he was perched on. Javius followed suit and picked up his wooden, spiked mace and stroked it. It came from one of the twigs of the World Tree at Mt. Hyjal. Now that the Tree was destroyed having a mace made out of its wood made it quite a rare novelty.
The two began walking back into the orc town of Razor Hill. Orcs, trolls, and even the occasional tauren resided in the village, and all of them gave Garivan an untrusting look as he walked with Javius to the inn. Even the inn keeper, an orc named Grak, bluntly pointed Garivan to a table where the two could drink orcish beer.
The inn was nothing more than a large single roomed building with tables and a fire pit in the middle and beds on the outside. But for the inhabitants of Razor Hill it was a place to rest, spin great tales of battles won and lost, to show off scars of brawls, and to, of course, drink to your share of ale.
The two spent the remained of the night arguing over whether orcish or human ales were better, surprisingly Javius took favor of human ales, claiming them to have a cleaner and crisper taste. While Garivan took the side of orcish ale, saying that it had an aged taste to it and left a warm feeling in your stomach. But both agreed that dwarven ale was superior to the other two brews.
After finishing their ale debate, Garivan, who had finished off his fair share of ale, challenged the other occupants of the inn to arm wrestling contests. If there was one thing that the orcs and dwarves shared it was their love of showing off their brute strength. Despite the dwarf’s smaller size he won his fair number of matches, leaving even the hardiest orcs pride dented.
Soon after winning one last arm wrestling match Javius persuaded Garivan that it was time to retire to their beds. Garivan slept in a bed that was carved into the stone walls of the inn, while Javius preferred a hammock (a rather strong one). It was a typical night at in the town of Razor Hill, or so it was thought.
Garivan awoke to the shouts of orcish officers giving commands to the guards. The dwarf looked over to Javius, and found the tauren already awake and brandishing his mace. Garivan, quickly over coming the after effects of the ale he had drank, got to his feet and grabbed his axe. Already the rest of the occupants of the inn had rushed outside.
Javius found the innkeeper before the left, and asked what was going on.
“Those damned humans are landing in their ships from Theramore. They are going to attack Razor Hill,” said Grak filled with rage.
Both Javius and Garivan’s eyes widened. The two looked at each other and then Javius turned to the innkeeper once more.
“How soon?!”
Poor Grak didn’t have time to give and answer, due to an arrow that was now sticking through his throat. The orc grasped his throat in agony and then crumpled into a heap on the ground.
The sudden death of Grak gave Javius and Garivan had little time to react to the two Theramore soldiers rushing into the inn. One soldier rushed toward Javius with a sword but the mighty tauren quickly heaved his mace in the air parrying the human’s attack. The man unrelenting quickly regained his stance, and swung his sword at Javius. The human’s attack made contact on the tauren’s shoulder, but the cut had little effect due to Javius’s thick hide. With the human off balance from his swing Javius took the opportunity to bring his mace crashing into the helmet of the human. The sound of crunching metal and bone soon followed.
The other human seeing his comrade fall went rushing toward Javius. The human noticed Garivan standing their and made a motion as if asking for the dwarf’s help in bringing down Javius. That was the human’s first and last mistake that night. Garivan was quick to plant his axe into the human’s shocked face.
Javius looked at Garivan with a shocked expression. The tauren had not expected the dwarf to kill his human allies so hastily. The dwarf understanding the reason behind his friend’s face said, “Them human’s ain’t ferm Theramore, tauren. Member that fleet I wus tellin’ ya ‘bout? Well, those two was frum it.”
The dwarf pointed at the tabard of the human he killed and Javius realized it didn’t bear the symbol that the humans and dwarves of Theramore wore. While both tabards bore the image of an anchor, this one had the image of a blazing sun behind it.
“That’s there is tha insignia of Admiral Proudmoore. He ‘ates tha orcs more than any man alive. If he is ‘ere there is little chance he is goin’ ta leave the orcs ‘n their allies alone…”
Javius nodded and looked at Garivan waiting for his to continue.
“He ‘as ta be stopped if there is ta be any ‘ope for peace betw’n our people,” finished Garivan as he wiped the human’s blood from his axe.
The two looked at the fighting out side the inn. Garivan looked at Javius and said, “Well, are ya just gonna stand there gawking at meh, or are we gonna help your friends out their?”
Javius smiled at the stout dwarf, and the dwarf smiled back slyly through his thick beard. The two rushed out of the inn and in to the fray of humans and orcs. Both screamed with a blood curdling roar the same battle cry they had shouted years before.
“FOR AZEROTH!”
For a minuet second both the invading humans and the defenders of Razor Hill turned in surprise and shock as a tauren and dwarf heaved their way through the human’s lines. Many orcs and trolls even began to think Garivan had join the fray as their foe, but were soon proven wrong as he hacked down any human that neared him.
Despite their peaceful ways a tauren in battle is a ferocious thing to behold if you are his target. Unfortunately for a human, that thought he could best Javius, he found this out in the last moments of his life as the tauren barreled the full weight of his body into the human knocking him to the ground. The last thing the human saw was Javius’s mace speeding for his head.
Javius Hardhoof dragged the smoke from his pipe. As he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils it swirled around his large brass nose ring. The tauren handed the hand carved pipe down to his dwarven companion. The dwarf placed the pipe in his mouth as he scratched his long, braided, graying beard. The two unlikely friends sat on a flat rock as they stared west watching the golden sun set behind the mountains that bordered Durotan and The Barrens.
Javius turned his head from the setting sun and looked down at his friend.
“I never thought I would see the day when dwarves came to Kalimdor again,” said Javius in a deep rough voice. “My tribe has for generations told of the fierce warriors of stone who fought by their sides in the first coming of the Legion.”
The dwarf pulled the pipe from his mouth said, “Aye, as I nv’r tho’t I’d see tha day when I sat next ta an ally o’ tha orcs, mooch less smoke tabacca next ta une of their settlements.”
The dwarf nudged his head toward a Razor Hill guard, posted outside the gate, that was eyeing him suspiciously.
“Funny ‘ow a war cun bring races tageth’r as well as divide ‘em,” the dwarf commented.
At that comment Javius’s mind rushed back to the battle at Mt. Hyjal. Horde and Alliance alike had joined together to battle the invading Burning Legion. For the first time in many years races fought side by side as brothers at arms. Dwarf and human rejoiced with each kill. Orcs and Humans defended one another’s backs as if each had know the other for years.
That battle was where Javius met the dwarf who, as he cleaved off the head of a demon, introduced himself as Garivan of the Spinebreaker clan. The two fought side by side, smashing all demons who came near them. Each yelling out a war cry, not only for his tribe or race, but for Azeroth and it’s survival.
That battle took place over two years ago and Javius and Garivan had remained together ever since. Although with rising tensions growing between the cities of Orgrimmar and Theramore, making any contact with members of an opposing faction was becoming increasingly difficult.
Javius knew little of the wars that had occurred between his friend’s people and his races new allies the orcs, back in the land they came from, but he knew enough about it to know that any peace that existed between them would never last long. Already there were rumors of a fleet of humans headed for Theramore. Garivan assured Javius that this fleet would not likely act kindly toward the alliance Lady Proudmore had established with Warchief Thrall.
“Do you believe that our kind will ever be at peace, my friend?” asked Javius.
“’Bout as mooch chance as tha moon and tha sun have at sharin’ tha same sky,” Garivan retorted cynically.
Javius thought about this for a moment and then replied, “But the moon and the sun both came from the Earth Mother’s eyes and therefore share a bond despite their differences. Once they even shared the Earth Mother’s face before she ripped them out allowing them to travel the skies.”
Javius’s use of tauren religion and philosophy was lost on Garivan. But the dwarf believed he got the gist of what his friend was saying and replied with a simple “aye” and then passed the pipe back to Javius.
Javius grinned at his friend as he took the pipe back and placed it in his mouth. He realized what he had said was probably lost his dwarven friend; Garivan was better with an axe than he was at words.
Garivan stretched his short limbs out until his bones gave a satisfying pop. He picked up his axe and hopped off the rock he was perched on. Javius followed suit and picked up his wooden, spiked mace and stroked it. It came from one of the twigs of the World Tree at Mt. Hyjal. Now that the Tree was destroyed having a mace made out of its wood made it quite a rare novelty.
The two began walking back into the orc town of Razor Hill. Orcs, trolls, and even the occasional tauren resided in the village, and all of them gave Garivan an untrusting look as he walked with Javius to the inn. Even the inn keeper, an orc named Grak, bluntly pointed Garivan to a table where the two could drink orcish beer.
The inn was nothing more than a large single roomed building with tables and a fire pit in the middle and beds on the outside. But for the inhabitants of Razor Hill it was a place to rest, spin great tales of battles won and lost, to show off scars of brawls, and to, of course, drink to your share of ale.
The two spent the remained of the night arguing over whether orcish or human ales were better, surprisingly Javius took favor of human ales, claiming them to have a cleaner and crisper taste. While Garivan took the side of orcish ale, saying that it had an aged taste to it and left a warm feeling in your stomach. But both agreed that dwarven ale was superior to the other two brews.
After finishing their ale debate, Garivan, who had finished off his fair share of ale, challenged the other occupants of the inn to arm wrestling contests. If there was one thing that the orcs and dwarves shared it was their love of showing off their brute strength. Despite the dwarf’s smaller size he won his fair number of matches, leaving even the hardiest orcs pride dented.
Soon after winning one last arm wrestling match Javius persuaded Garivan that it was time to retire to their beds. Garivan slept in a bed that was carved into the stone walls of the inn, while Javius preferred a hammock (a rather strong one). It was a typical night at in the town of Razor Hill, or so it was thought.
Garivan awoke to the shouts of orcish officers giving commands to the guards. The dwarf looked over to Javius, and found the tauren already awake and brandishing his mace. Garivan, quickly over coming the after effects of the ale he had drank, got to his feet and grabbed his axe. Already the rest of the occupants of the inn had rushed outside.
Javius found the innkeeper before the left, and asked what was going on.
“Those damned humans are landing in their ships from Theramore. They are going to attack Razor Hill,” said Grak filled with rage.
Both Javius and Garivan’s eyes widened. The two looked at each other and then Javius turned to the innkeeper once more.
“How soon?!”
Poor Grak didn’t have time to give and answer, due to an arrow that was now sticking through his throat. The orc grasped his throat in agony and then crumpled into a heap on the ground.
The sudden death of Grak gave Javius and Garivan had little time to react to the two Theramore soldiers rushing into the inn. One soldier rushed toward Javius with a sword but the mighty tauren quickly heaved his mace in the air parrying the human’s attack. The man unrelenting quickly regained his stance, and swung his sword at Javius. The human’s attack made contact on the tauren’s shoulder, but the cut had little effect due to Javius’s thick hide. With the human off balance from his swing Javius took the opportunity to bring his mace crashing into the helmet of the human. The sound of crunching metal and bone soon followed.
The other human seeing his comrade fall went rushing toward Javius. The human noticed Garivan standing their and made a motion as if asking for the dwarf’s help in bringing down Javius. That was the human’s first and last mistake that night. Garivan was quick to plant his axe into the human’s shocked face.
Javius looked at Garivan with a shocked expression. The tauren had not expected the dwarf to kill his human allies so hastily. The dwarf understanding the reason behind his friend’s face said, “Them human’s ain’t ferm Theramore, tauren. Member that fleet I wus tellin’ ya ‘bout? Well, those two was frum it.”
The dwarf pointed at the tabard of the human he killed and Javius realized it didn’t bear the symbol that the humans and dwarves of Theramore wore. While both tabards bore the image of an anchor, this one had the image of a blazing sun behind it.
“That’s there is tha insignia of Admiral Proudmoore. He ‘ates tha orcs more than any man alive. If he is ‘ere there is little chance he is goin’ ta leave the orcs ‘n their allies alone…”
Javius nodded and looked at Garivan waiting for his to continue.
“He ‘as ta be stopped if there is ta be any ‘ope for peace betw’n our people,” finished Garivan as he wiped the human’s blood from his axe.
The two looked at the fighting out side the inn. Garivan looked at Javius and said, “Well, are ya just gonna stand there gawking at meh, or are we gonna help your friends out their?”
Javius smiled at the stout dwarf, and the dwarf smiled back slyly through his thick beard. The two rushed out of the inn and in to the fray of humans and orcs. Both screamed with a blood curdling roar the same battle cry they had shouted years before.
“FOR AZEROTH!”
For a minuet second both the invading humans and the defenders of Razor Hill turned in surprise and shock as a tauren and dwarf heaved their way through the human’s lines. Many orcs and trolls even began to think Garivan had join the fray as their foe, but were soon proven wrong as he hacked down any human that neared him.
Despite their peaceful ways a tauren in battle is a ferocious thing to behold if you are his target. Unfortunately for a human, that thought he could best Javius, he found this out in the last moments of his life as the tauren barreled the full weight of his body into the human knocking him to the ground. The last thing the human saw was Javius’s mace speeding for his head.