Chapter 13: Volume 1: Chapter 11
Lost Lion
Disclaimer! I definitely do not own warcraft though I wish I did.
Volume 1: Chapter 11
***The Black Morass ***
'They have taken the bait,' Lothar thought grimly as he watched the greenskins pour out from the surrounding trees. The expeditionary force had seemed large enough, but they were completely dwarfed by the host assembled before them.
"Sir..." Karos nervously said as he and the other knights scanned the horizon. "There are so many of them… and even more in our homeland."
"Llane will protect the Kingdom, you need only focus on what is in front of us." Lothar told Karos without even looking at the man. His words seem to strengthen the other knights who must have not voiced their fear like Karos.
Once more, the sheer numbers being thrown at them were staggering, but none of that mattered now. With the kingdom's remaining forces, barring a disaster, they should be able to hold and hopefully halt the invading orcs. However, if this Horde makes it to Lushland Pass, there would be only one ending to that: the destruction of their kingdom. Their army would simply be drowned out by sheer numbers.
With what was at stake, Lothar had come up with an extremely risky plan. It could even be called suicidal, but it would need a few days to come to fruition. If Lothar's forces succeeded, then they might be able to buy enough time for the king to strengthen their defenses and maybe…just maybe find willing allies. However, time was what was needed for the trap to work, and their lives would be the currency used to purchase them.
Lothar had let the army know the ending that awaited–he owed it to them–but all of them, down to every last man and woman, from the knights to the chefs, were all willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. He could not have been prouder.
Thanks to Garona the Assassin, he got a glimpse into the greenskins' minds. They were a warrior race that would never tolerate any slight on what they perceived was 'their honor' against a weak foe. They considered humans weak even after Stormwind's army routed them in the first few battles. Armed with that information, Lothar had made sure to slight them often to draw them here, the battlefield of his choosing. The Black Morass sometimes had the odd mountainous area that stood alone. It was in front of one such hill that they were now camped in front of. It was large enough for them to put their backs against and not have to worry about being completely surrounded.
Their defensive position had two two-mile-long barricades with sharpened stakes curved like a reverse crescent moon around their army. Manning those barricades were archers ready to discourage those that would try to flank them. They had also set up thousands of traps along the flanks and dug pits with sharpened stakes at the bottom among other things.
Finally, at their front, the center-most part of the reverse crescent barricade was a two-hundred-yard wide opening. It was an invitation and more importantly, a challenge. If there was one thing that Garona's insights into her people gave him, it was that they would never refuse a challenge against someone weaker, and Lothar–with the fifty thousand footmen in that center–intended to give them that challenge.
"Dawn, sir," Karos said as the sun began to rise to illuminate the clear skies. It was almost idyllic how peaceful the scenery seemed. "Here they come."
And came they did with their vast numbers. A wave of greenskins emerged and began to roar as one, shaking their crude weapons at them. Their harsh guttural voices promised pain, misery, and death to the defenders.
"Soldiers of Stormwind!" Lothar shouted as the footmen parted to allow him to go to the very front. "Give them your answer!"
On top of his horse, Defender Lothar raised his lion shield and greatsword, Ashkandi, above him, making sure the approaching Horde could see him. Then with the runeblade, he banged on the shield. After that, he repeated that strike, and then on the next one, he was joined by the knights behind him. On the fourth bang, it was the the fifth, the entire army joined in with the rhythmic sounds of their weapons crashing into their shields. It was a steady sound made in unison, made by discipline and resolve. Order to the chaotic sea of harsh growls coming across the field from them.
As if they heard enough, the orcs' lines parted to reveal two large orcs on wolves riding to the front. The first orc was dressed in heavy bone-like armor with claws sticking from his bracers. He carried a large black hammer with line slits on the side of it. He was accompanied by an even larger orc to his right, this one in black armor and armed with an even larger hammer. If Lothar remembered Garona's descriptions correctly, the large orc in bone armor was their king, Blackhand, while the armored one with the larger hammer was called Doomhammer.
"Here they come!" Lothar shouted as he rode back behind the infantry lines as the footmen closed the opening. After he was in the center of their camp with his knights, he then raised his sword. He waited until the orcs were three fourth of the way to him before he slashed down.
"CATAPULTS!" An engineer in the back roared. "LOOSE!"
Lothar, sword pointing to the oncoming horde, heard hundreds of catapults activate and deliver their deadly parcels. A moment later, it rained fire as the ignited rocks, filled with dwarven explosive black powder, crashed down onto the Horde. The first of the fiery balls smashed into several orcs, crushing them under its weight, before exploding and igniting dozens of others nearby in searing flames. As more and more of the fiery balls fell onto the orcish army, screams and cries echoed throughout within their ranks.
The attacks killed hundreds outright and set thousands more on fire. Unfortunately, the orcs had not reacted as the human hoped. What was supposed to be mass confusion was simply a minor annoyance to the orcs. The majority of them ignored the distressed and pained cries of their kinsmen; some orcs even cut down those on fire that got in their way. The humans realized now that the orcs had no sense of empathy for their fellows and that any damage they could inflict on the orc was just a drop against the ocean of greenskins.
"Reload!" The engineer's voice shouted and others could be heard echoing his order down their catapult line.
"Crossbowman!" Lothar's voice carried as the orcs were almost upon them. "Loose!"
Thousands of bolts flew from the ten thousand crossbow wielders behind the infantry line pierced right into the front line of the Horde. Many orc faces showed surprise when they looked down to see dark bolts sprouting from their skin. Some even stopped in their tracks to try and pluck the bolts out, only to find out that the vicious humans had barbed the tip. Others were turned into pincushions from the bolts, never realizing what happened until it was too late. The rain of crossbow bolts killed hundreds instantly but barely weakened their momentum.
It did not matter to the orcs, the death of their fellow warriors only seemed to spur them to even greater heights of fury. The grunts ran even harder to close the gap between them and the humans line to pay back the humans for the insult. Another volley was fired into the orcs, and then another but still the orcs kept coming. Those that died simply became stepping stones for those behind them and there were even some orcs whose body was riddled with bolt, continued to rush forward, their blood lust dulling the pain.
"SHIELDS WALL!" Lothar roared and, as expected, the Horde's reply came in the form of their spearmen. However, because the majority of the orc's forces were melee warriors, there was little room for their spear throwers to congregate in large numbers, thereby weakening their strength. The spears that were thrown were not numerous enough to be effective, mostly being blocked or easily parried.
The attacking horde slammed into the human defenders and managed to break through in dozens of spots along the line with their momentum. The body behind them then pushed the human defenders backward as swords and axes hacked at one another. The human line which had been straight was now bending, allowing more orcs to force their way through the opening.
"Soldiers of Stormwind! You will hold!" Lothar willed his force to not bend anymore, and they did. The orcs were now stopped at the opening, forced to endure the rain of bolts and fiery catapult blast. They died in the thousands while the footmen died in the hundreds. However, the defender stood firm and fought hard, refusing to move back further.
After several hours of hard fighting on both sides, what Lothar had anticipated came to pass. With the orcs' momentum stunted, the ones in the rear, eager for battle, thought that they could find a hole in the humans' lines along the sides. They were deterred from climbing the barricade due to the sharpened wooden stakes that acted as a defensive measure against such a thing. Some tried to climb it anyway but with the human ranged harassment, they weren't able to progress.
"Crossbowman! Our flanks!" Lothar shouted as two thousand ranged units on either side of their formation turned and started to fire into the orcs attacking the barricade.
Discouraged, the orcs tried to test other spots along the flank, but Lothar was ready for that too, as he had soaked the field with their oil. A flaming crossbow bolt sank into the ground to the direct left and right of their flanks. The orcs that were in the field were puzzled until a hundred-foot-wide fire blazed from their barricade to the tree line. The crossbowman did not bother with the orcs on fire as they would be causing more havoc among their forces if things went well.
With their effort to outflank the humans defeated, the orcs refocused on the human defenders in the center. However, after hours of fighting, the human defenders began to wear down. Little by little, the humans were gradually pushed back. The orcs could feel the momentum of the line shifting forward and vibrated with anticipation. They did not care that they were marching over their dead; they kept pushing, and slowly, yet certainly, the human line began to yield. Many orcs had grown smarter and used various armor and shields they took from the dead human defenders to protect themselves from the rain of bolts.
"Brothers!" Lothar shouted to his knights as he saw his soldiers' line was on the verge of breaking. "To me!"
Five thousand knights, both from the Brotherhood and army, formed up on Lothar, cavalry lances in one hand with war maces or swords in the other.
"General Garath!" Lothar yelled to the commander of the infantry. "Open the line!"
Garath, hearing Lothar's order, nodded. "Center, formation, break!"
The resistance from the humans disappeared as their line split in two, and the orcs, thinking it was because of their fury that forced the humans back, felt renewed bloodlust in anticipation of the slaughter to come.
"Lok'gar!" Many an orc yelled as they flooded into the base.
"CHARGE!" Lothar commanded as thousands of lances slammed into the surprised greenskins before they were trampled brutally. The attack shocked the entire attacking horde lines as the knights crashed brutally into the attacking orcs. However, they did not stop there as the knights poured out from the humans front line, running over any orcs on the way into the heart of the attacking army.
"Now!" General Garath shouted as the footmen swarmed out of the opening and began killing the disoriented orcs. The infantry, which had acted like an anvil for the orcs to hammer on, had unexpectedly turned into a spear. Meanwhile, the knights were now the hammer for the humans as they sowed havoc among the orcs, not giving them time to regroup. Some turned cowardly at the sight and tried to run, adding more chaos to the orc ranks. Many others were brave and tried to fight back, but with the knights on the field, they were crushed. No orc on foot was a match for the mounted warriors.
Then something unexpected happened as a loud orcish war horn sounded. From the edge of the forest, the rearmost orcs parted, and a familiar orc wolf rider dashed out from the forest, thousands of his wolf-riding kin following behind him.
"They baited us out here," Knight-Captain Wice said as he pulled up to Lothar. If they turned tailed now, that would shift the battle into the Horde favor. "What are your orders?"
Up until now, most of the battle had gone the way Lothar wanted, but he never expected the orcs to be patient enough to lay a trap of their own. He was sure their bloodlust would have blinded them. However, he was too committed now; there was no turning back.
"Brothers!" Lothar roared. He would make them realize that wolves did not hunt lions as he pointed his sword at the wolf riders. "With me! For our homes, for our king, for Stormwind!"
The orc with the white wolf pelt held up his hammer high and gave out a battle cry of his own.
"Lok'tar!"
The orcs heard the wolf rider leader and answered with a cry of their own.
"DUROTAN! DUROTAN! DUROTAN!"
Lothar did not care to know what 'Durotan' meant as he and his knights charged toward the wolf riders, neither side slowing down or yielding. Both footmen and grunts, as if sensing the impending clash, got out from in between the two colliding forces and continued to fight one another away from their riders' battle.
It was as if a thunderclap resounded in everyone's ears as the deafening noise created by the two mounted forces could be heard through the ranks of both sides. Some orcs riders reacted too slowly and found themselves impaled onto the human's spears. Meanwhile, the humans who were confident in their armor protection found out that it could not protect them from the snapping jaws of the orc's direwolves as they crushed their plate armor like parchment papers. Some had their throats ripped out and their breastplate was chewed through while others had their weapon arms crushed in between the rows of the wolves sharp teeth. All of this happened within a few mere moments, consigning hundreds from both sides to severe wounds and death, but that did not deter them from fighting.
Lothar saw one of the wolf jaws snap around Karos's warhorse neck and crushed the protective armor plating around it. Karos sheathed his greatsword into the wolf's eye and shoved the rest deeper into its head. The shock of the attack made the wolf buck and tossed its rider off who was soon trampled to death. Even as the wolf died, another orc rider from behind Karos ended his life with a violent hammer smashed to his head. The wolf rider was speared through the throat by Knight-Champion Wice before he ended the beast as well. The battle descended into chaos, lines forgotten as an all-out mounted brawl ensued.
Lothar, with Ashkandi in hand, made a clean cut through a wolf's mouth. The top half of the wolf's head went flying, but Lothar's swing did not stop there; the blade bit into the wolf's rider and sliced him in half as well. Not finished, he met another rider on his left and struck the orc with his lion shield, flinging him off his mount. Lothar then gathered his strength and bashed the shield, lion face first, onto the wolf's skull and felt it crack from the blow.
"Die, beast!" Lothar roared as he reeled his arms up and smashed the wolf's head again and felt its skull yield. Even as the wolf died, another rider sought to test him.
Lothar's blood was up, and he killed anything that he laid his sight on including his newest attacker. There was a feeling in the air that Lothar could sense, a sort of finality. The fight with the wolf riders would determine the flow of the entire battle, and Lothar knew who it was that carried the orcs' spirit on their shoulders. His blue eyes met surprisingly dark brown ones as Lothar realized that the hunter had the same thought. His knights and the orc wolf riders sensed it as well and took the fight away from the two.
"Human." The Orc rider's leader grunted out as if tasting out the words. "You, fight good."
Lothar's eyes widened. This orc could speak his people's language, and that meant that he was much more intelligent than his other kinsmen.
"You learned our language." Lothar felt a calm settle over him. "You should've communicated with us first instead of letting it come to this."
The orc let out a laugh as he pounded his chest with the axe. "Orcs no good talking. We good. Fighting."
Lothar looked around him and noted that a circle of a sort formed now around the two of them. His knight knew not to interfere and so does the orc wolf rider. It was almost...chivalrous.
"Then we fight." Lothar took up his blade to his face and turned the flat of the blade in a salute. "I am Lothar."
"Durotan," the wolf-rider leader replied, finally introducing himself.
Lothar found himself oddly respecting this orc. He then remembered what Garona had taught him of orcish culture and inclined his head to Durotan.
"Victory or death."
The orc laughed and roared. "Lok'tar Ogar!"
With a battle cry, the two charged at one another.
Lothar found that the orc's opening attack was fast–too fast–and was forced to block the incoming blow. The impact rattled his body, but he tanked it and swung Ashkandi in a counter. However, the wolf danced away with its rider. The beast then snapped open its jaw and aimed for his warhorse's leg. Defender, the long-time warhorse of Lothar, reared up to avoid the wolf's jaws and kicked at the beast's mouth with its front legs.
However, as the horse stomped down, the wolf pulled its head back quickly which elevated its rider higher. Durotan's axe cut upward but was met by a two-handed strike from Lothar. The orc pulled back to take another swing, and Lothar met him again with his sword. The two mounted warriors exchanged a series of blows that would have killed lesser orcs and humans.
The duel between them was so furious that some of the knights and riders stopped fighting to watch. Most of the orcs not directly engaged in the massive brawl watched with awe and respect at the two combatants. They began to freely chant the name of the Horde's champion.
"Du-ro-tan! Du-ro-tan! Du-ro-tan!"
The footmen in the rear who were pushing forward shouted back the name of their kingdom's champion.
"Lo-thar! Lo-thar! Lo-thar!"
Lothar and Durotan continued their fight with the knights and riders from both sides refusing to interfere in the duel. Both riders and knights were surprised when they realized the other side understood the concept of an honorable duel. They were fighting and dying by the hundreds yet none dared to intervene in their leaders' duel.
"Du-ro-tan! Du-ro-tan!Du-ro-tan!"
"Lo-thar! Lo-thar! Lo-thar!"
"Du-ro-tan! Du-ro-tan!Du-ro-tan!"
"Lo-thar! Lo-thar! Lo-thar!"
The duel between Lothar and Durotan got even faster and more ferocious. The wolf rider's leader scored several direct hits onto Lothar's armor, biting deep and grazing flesh. Lothar's runeblade was also only able to give his orc opponent shallow cuts. The two would circle with their mount and then lock up as even their own mounts dueled with one another. The wolf tried to bite onto any area on the horse while the warhorse tried to cave the beast's skull in as it had done to so many of its enemies. However, when two equal warriors fought long enough, they would eventually gain an understanding of each other's skills and weaknesses. With that sense, both could feel that their battle would be coming to an end soon, that the next series of exchanges would determine the victor. To Lothar and Durotan, that moment was upon them, and perhaps it was a trick played by their minds, but the battlefield sounded quiet to their ears.
It was Lothar's horse that faltered first, miscalculating its step. Thinking that it dodged the latest attack from Durotan's wolf, it realized too late that it was a feint and the wolf was actually aiming for its rider. Years of ingrained training and loyalty made the warhorse block the wolf attack. The wolf's teeth snapped closed on the warhorse's throat, crushing through the steel protecting it before ripping it out in a spray of blood and meat. However, the wolf did not get to enjoy its victory for long when Lothar's retaliation fell onto its neck, slicing clean through it.
The headless wolf collapsed with its rider as did the dead warhorse. Both men got to their feet, knowing that this was the moment they had been waiting for, and charged one another. Lothar led with his shield while Durotan brought the full strength of his axe onto the shield, sending Lothar reeling backward from the impact.
The Frostwolf chief brought his axe up once more and hit Lothar's shield with all his strength, splitting the shield's lion face in two. However, Durotan realized too late that his axe was stuck when he tried to pull it back. Before he could try to dislodge it properly, a flash of steel could be seen.
"Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Durotan screamed in pain as he held onto the stump that was his arm while Lothar allowed his shield to drop, his arm broken from the orc's blow.
Lothar dragged Ashkandi in a run to finish off the orc only for another orc to rush in with his wolf and forced Lothar to block the hammer strike.
"Durotan!" the orc shouted and allowed Lothar to lower his sword enough to see that it was the orc called Doomhammer. The orc quickly pulled Durotan over his black wolf and snarled at Lothar before he retreated from the battlefield.
The orcs around them were stunned at what had transpired, and Lothar saw it all. He stood tall and pointed his sword at the orcs. "For Stormwind!"
The human soldiers, inspired, roared in reply as they attacked with renewed frenzy.
"FOR LOTHAR!"
What came after was a furious conflict that culminated in several clashes. While they did inflict heavy casualties on the demoralized orcs, the humans were still outnumbered and soon, their strength was sapped. They pulled back just as day turned to dusk and the orcs, tired from the day's fighting, chose to return as well.
Lothar allowed a cleric to heal his shield arm and gazed at the tiny fire in the distance. It was an entire city worth of orcs out there, all warriors.
"All done milord," the Cleric bowed before he began to heal the footmen.
They lost twenty thousand today and the majority of the knights. The bright spot was all the wolf riders that took the field were killed save the one called Durotan who was saved by the orc called Doomhammer. Thankfully with the clerics on duty, their fighting forces would be fresh to fight the next day while the orcs should be wounded as Garona said the orcs no longer had healers.
Lothar looked around the camp before allowing himself a small moment of reprieve. While staring at the campfire, he let his thoughts wander, from his king to his friends Medivh, his deceased wife, and finally, his son. Lothar looked down at the elven runeblade, Ashkandi. He had wanted to give this sword to Callan one day, but it appeared the orcs would get a hold of it first as battlefield spoils.
Thoughts of the orcs made his eyes wander to the night stars. Two more days; that was all he needed to hold on for.
"Stay safe, my son..." Lothar whispered to the starry night sky, hoping his wishes reached his son.
*** Redridge Mountains – Callan's Garrison***
I read the letter again for the third time as the Stonewatch messenger waited while gratefully drinking the mulberry wine that was served to him by a...maid? I have no idea what to call the village ladies who had taken it upon themselves to serve me and handle menial tasks on my behalf.
"This is it?" I finally asked and saw the messenger return to attention at my question.
"Yes, sir," the messenger answered as he stood ramrod straight.
I read the letter once again and swallowed hard. Well...so this was why my request for orders took four days to be answered. Once my report got to Lakeshire, it was then forwarded to Stonewatch Keep. That was two days gone, then another day for the commander of Stonewatch to decide on what I should do and the fourth day to travel back to me.
"I see..." I exhaled deeply. "Tell Commander Marcus that his orders have been received and shall be carried out."
The messenger gave me a salute, finished his wine, and exited my office in a hurry. After he did so, I leaned back against the wooden chair and sighed deeply.
"Fuck me..." I cursed, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. This was not supposed to happen! Wasn't the Bronzes supposed to be stopping major shit like this? I allowed myself a five-minute reprieve to gather my thoughts before I was ready to face the world of Azeroth again. "Alrighty then..."
I walked out and saw my now permanent guards standing even more at attention the moment they saw me.
"Sir!" Their plate gauntlet made a funny clang sound as it struck their helm.
"At ease," I replied as I walked past them and took the stairs down to the ground floor. The moment I made it down, the conversations that were bustling stopped in their tracks. As it had been since my… little stunt during the last siege, all eyes were now on me.
"Afternoon." I nodded at the silent wide eye crowd. Even the little children's eyes were wider than usual. I searched the crowd and found my target. "Mr. Clements, if you'd come with me."
"Right away, milord!" The man hurriedly rushed over to me as I exited the town hall. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"Gather the militiamen and their family to the center in say ten minutes?" I asked and saw Clements nod that it was indeed possible to assemble people in that amount of time. "Good. I have new orders that involve them."
"Yes, milord!" Clements bowed and went back to the town hall to bark out orders.
With that done, I allowed myself to take in the sight before me. As always, the sun was beating down on me, but there was also a pleasant breeze sweeping through the garrison. To my left, the militia troops and regulars went through their set drills. On top of the walls were footmen, keeping an eye out for any signs of the orcs. Finally, to the left of the town hall was the not-church that was filled with people even though there was no service at the moment. The people, civilians and soldiers alike, were content to be in the building or around its grounds. As for the people that were supposed to be preaching… Well, they were in the not-church's training area, pairing off to footmen of various skills, to spar. One pair of sparring partners captured a lot of the citizen's attention.
Naturally, it was High Cleric Fordragon, in her cleaned armor which just oozes charisma, fighting with my corporal John J. Keeshan. Currently, Mara was absolutely taking it to Keeshan who was doing his best to fend her off. The cleric's sword, laced with a soft golden hue, struck the corporal's shield over and over again, forcing him involuntarily back up. The future Rambo meme was trying his best to reorient himself, but it was useless; Mara had sensed blood in the water.
Of course, Mara was not the only one showing improvement. The other clerics were also doing well and were in the process of winning their respective fights against their footmen sparring partners. After the siege, the clergywomen had thrown themselves into training but left the not-church open for worship for anyone that needed it.
They were not alone as the supervisor of their martial skills was standing not far away. Gavinrad must have noticed my gaze upon him as he turned to me. Mara caught the movement and stopped her assault on my corporal. Keeshan shot me a grateful look as he technically did not lose. The other footmen did not get off as easily as I could see their pride was damaged from their losses.
'Sorry, my dudes,' I mentally apologized to them. Clerics weren't supposed to be kicking veteran soldiers' asses like that. At least, not for another few years.
"Callan," Gavinrad greeted me with a nod. I must admit the change in the knight's attitude was surprising. Before, his tone was always neutral while addressing me, but now, there was actual respect behind it. "Is something the matter?"
"Yeah, I'd say so." With that, I handed the knight the letter I received from Stonewatch. I saw his expression become grimmer as he read the content. Yeah, that was pretty much how I felt, buddy.
"Callan, is something amiss?" Mara came up next to me. There were little beads of sweat on her face that told me how hard she had been working. She tilted her head at me, showing her curiosity.
"Oh, something's amiss alright…" I was about to explain when Gavinrad cursed, startling Mara and the other clerics who just also made their way here. Turning to Gavinrad, I asked, "So, will you be leaving? I know the Brotherhood's got duties and obligations in light of the situation..."
Mara looked to me first and then to Gavinrad. "You are leaving us, Sir Gavinrad?"
Like always, the knight instantly responded to the High Cleric tone, and it was definitely not because he was pious.
"Pardon, my lady, for the language," Gavinrad apologized before he turned to me as if to ask for permission. "However, I shall be staying, especially in light of the situation."
Now that was surprising. I thought for sure he would be riding out ASAP. He turned to me while his eyes flickered to the High Cleric.
"You can tell her. I'm addressing everyone about it soon enough anyways." I motioned for the knight who quickly explained the situation to a horrified group of holy warrior women.
"… In the Light's name." Abbess Delilah was the first of the clerics to speak up with her hand daintily covering her mouth.
"Yep," I agreed. The situation was fucked. Really fucked.
Soon after, the town hall bell rang, a signal that meant everyone must make their way to the town square where I would then give out instructions. It did not take them long to gather and pretty soon, almost six thousand people filled the yard. They were confused but looked to me for answers as I walked over to the little box podium that Clements had made. My eyes scanned the crowd and exhaled as I didn't imagine that public speaking was something I would ever be doing.
"My good people and fellow soldiers." I addressed in a formal, high-handed tone. It never quite stopped feeling like I was L.A.R.P-ing or RP-ing when I spoke like that, but that was how they talked in Azeroth. Once again, that old saying applied here: when in Rome, do as the Romans do. "It is my sad duty to inform you of the ill tidings that I had just been made aware of-"
Unrest instantly spread out to the people, but I pushed on. Bad news was like a band-aid to just rip off. The faster you did it, the better it would be in the long run.
"The orcs have invaded the kingdom once more, but this time, in even greater numbers." As I knew they would, the civilians were the first to panic, but the soldiers kept their cool. I held up a hand to silence them and to my surprise, they did. My street cred from the siege must still be good; it bought me the crowds' obedience.
"While we don't know much about the details, we do know that currently at the northeast pass, three of our legions are holding the orcs back there."
More gasped, but they stayed quiet for the most part.
"I received word from Stonewatch's command that the 'peasantry' are to make their way to Lakeshire with the militia as escort. There, you would be safe behind their town walls. You are all to move out immediately upon hearing me, but I will allow you an hour to take what you need."
The civilians began whispering to one another. There was some fear but surprisingly, most were calm. Some of the women started to break off to go inside the town hall to gather their belongings. Satisfied, I made to walk away when a person in the crowd called to me.
"Yes?" I asked, seeing that the speaker was a large man with a bushy beard.
"What about you, milord? Are you not coming with us?" The man's question made the crowd, which had been dispersing, stop and look at me.
"I was ordered to wait for the 31st and 34th legion to form a defensive line here along with the rest of the soldiers," I explained to the man, but for some reason, the crowd was uneasy. The bearded man suddenly stepped forward and pounded at his chest.
"Then let me stay with you, milord, I'll fight at your side!"
...the fuck? He wanted to stay? Why? A moment later, he wasn't the only one to step forward.
"Milord, I'll stay and fight with you too!" another man shouted, this time smaller but just as eager with his expression.
"And me!" The hell? That was the baker woman!
"Let me stand with you, Lord Callan!" Her teenage daughter also stepped forward.
"We'd not let you fight by yourself! My sword is yours!" One of the militiamen raised his fist. His example made the other militiamen all clamor to fight by my side. Pretty soon, the majority of the people in the crowd offered to stay and fight with me.
Exasperated, I turned to Jenkins to share a 'they crazy' look only to see him nodding along, satisfied. He wasn't the only one. Keeshan was also nodding his head in approval as were the majority of my soldiers. Confused, I turned to Mara and her sisters to see them with serene expressions on their faces.
'Really?' I mentally deadpanned, but things were getting a bit too out of hand. Orders were orders after all.
"Ahem!" I politely cough into my fist to get their attention. "While I appreciate the...gesture. I will have to ask you to leave; there simply will not be enough space if you all stay here."
"But–!"
"Ah, ah!" I held up a finger. "You are citizens of Stormwind, and this is the order you have been given."
Their patriotism warred with their desire to stay with me but finally, patriotism won out. They moved reluctantly, sure, but at least they were moving.
"Clements," I called my civilian adjutant. "Make sure you are extra careful, okay?"
"Yes, milord!" Why the hell did that man look so choked up? If possible I wanted him to trade places with me so I could be in Lakeshire.
However… I couldn't leave my men. They were my responsibility, and I intended to see it to the end. Surprisingly, no Bronze sighting yet, so thank god for small favors. The hour went by fast and all the people were packed and ready to go. I gave them one last glance then to the soldiers manning the gates.
"Good luck all!" I gave everyone a salute as did every soldier in the garrison. Like Jon Snow once said, we find our truest friend on the battlefield, and that siege forged many such friendships. "Open the gate!"
There was an old earth saying that went something like this: The best-laid plans of mice and men… something. Now that I thought about it, I didn't think I ever heard the whole quote. Still, it often meant trouble came despite your intentions, and trouble began as the gate opened.
"MILORD! PEOPLE ON THE HORIZON!" The watcher on the east battlement really had a strong set of lungs on him.
"Close the gate!" I ordered as the town hall bell rang for everyone to take up a defensive position. The civilians, who had been ready to leave, smoothly transitioned into siege mode. Once again, the children and the elderly were escorted into the town hall while the militiamen did their job in helping to move weapons. We were pretty much ready by the time I got to the wall and saw what watchers saw. There was a moving mass in the east flat land, which was surprising as the orcs often preferred to rush out from the forest. A moment later, I understood why. They weren't the orcs; they were friendlies.
"That's the 17th banner!" Jenkins who arrived shortly after me pointed to a banner hanging over the group of people. "W-why are they here?"
A bad feeling began to stir in my gut once more, that odd feeling of something going tits up, was happening to me again. "Everyone, be on alert!"
Jenkins turned to me in surprise as did many of the soldiers on the wall.
"There is a chance the orcs have killed our men and are wearing their armor. If we open the gates for them without verifying their identities, we'd fall into their traps," I told them and saw horror slowly showing their faces. The thought probably never occurred to them, but I knew about ancient tactics and many of those tactics meant using despicable means to win. I was not about to get Trojan horse-ed on the off chance an orc was smart enough to use his head.
Gradually, the soldiers of the 17th got closer, and the tension on the wall was palpable. It wasn't until they entered our kill zone that a happy cry sounded out as we were finally able to see them clearly. Many had their helmets off, revealing their human nature but also their defeated expressions. They were a haggard group with many showing signs of injuries of various kinds from the makeshift bandages on them.
"That's the 18th banner!" Jenkins spoke up. It took me a moment but I finally recognized the legion banner. Curiously it wasn't held high but instead carried in someone's arms. I now realized that the two legions that were guarding the northeast pass were here. What more, they did not look anywhere near the ten thousand strong they were supposed to be, and I wasn't the only one that came to this conclusion, judging from my second-in-command's face.
There really was only one reasonable explanation: the orcs had broken through, and these defeated soldiers were all that remained of those two proud legions.
"Fuck..." I cursed under my breath. "Open the gates!"
I took the shortcut and ran to the front gate and jumped down just as the gate opened. Once more, Power Word: Shield allowed me to absorb the impact of the fall. I could have used Levitate, but that would have made me look like Mary Poppins by falling slowly like that, though I suppose I would be more a Gary Poppins…
I walked out and saw the officer in charge notice me approaching him. The other weary soldiers were also gazing at my garrison in awe. My defenders' attitude was the polar opposite of the battered remnant of the two legions.
"I am Master Sergeant Callan Lothar," I snapped a formal salute and saw the man in charge, who was at least twenty years my senior, return it. "May I ask who is the highest rank so I may report to him?"
The man in charge turned to make eye contact with a few other men before he turned back to me. "I am Master Sergeant Wayne, the highest ranking officer left of the 17th legion and Master Sergeant Lowell is the highest ranking officer of the 18th."
As if called upon, a man with darker skin, whose appearance reminded me of a much younger Antonio Banderas, was the flag carrier of the 18th legion.
"Wait, you guys are the highest-ranking officers left? Then your Knight-Champions..." I saw the look of pain on the Master Sergeants' faces. The soldiers behind them also wore the same anguished expression.
Damn…
"Pardon, my lords," A cleric appeared. His appearance put him at around maybe early thirties to his late twenties with brown hair and a 70's style mustache. He pushed forward and bowed to me before he raised his head with desperation in his eyes. "Could we continue this inside? We need rooms for our injured and… to administer last rites for those we couldn't save."
"Of course." I nodded and invited the remaining remnants of the legion force inside with me at the head. Already, civilians and militiamen were moving to help out however they could. I saw my five clerics and waved them over. "High Cleric Fordragon will show you where you can put the wounded."
"High Cleric Fordragon?!" the cleric said in disbelief as he turned only to spot Mara coming our way. "Is it really her? And...Abbess Delilah too?!"
"Callan," Mara greeted and turned to the older cleric. "Brother Donovan."
"H-High Cleric! You were here?" Brother Donovan exclaimed in disbelief. I saw a few more younger clerics make their way over, about ten in all with around twenty others being as old as Donovan. They were all in awe at the two high-ranking clerics in their midst.
"Ah, Terah, Noren," The Abbess greeted the younger clerics. I knew she was their class trainer, but for her to remember all their names was pretty amazing. However, as I expected, after the meet and greet was over, the clerics began to note their two seniors' mode of dress.
"I-Is that armor?" Terah asked, a waif of a girl with light brown hair.
"Ask about that later," I cut in. "Mara, they got wounded. Take care of them using what I showed you."
What I had shown her was Penance, Circle of Healing, and Prayer of Healing. All of them were strong spells, but only two were capable of healing multiple people at once. Something that would come in handy in battle. I wish I could teach them Paladin aura, but that was not in my wheelhouse or should be more accurate to say, my hero's kit. However, if she could figure it out after observing me, more power to her.
"If you'd excuse me, I need to talk to my fellow Master Sergeants." Those Master Sergeants were finally able to let the men rest as the civilians began to take out food for the weary soldiers. I needed to know what happened, and Gavinrad's presence told me he wanted to know too. Our approach was spotted by two men who were barking out orders to their soldiers.
"Sir Callan," Wayne greeted, though his eyes opened wide at the Brotherhood emblem on Gavinrad's armor. Instantly, ingrained soldier habits kicked in. "Sir!"
"Sir!" Lowell followed a moment later as did everyone in the immediate vicinity.
"At ease," Gavinrad said before he stepped back and waved his hand in my direction. "Callan commands here."
The two master sergeants exchanged a surprised look before they nodded to each other. "Then… we'll defer our authority to Sir Callan in the meantime."
Ouch, another four thousand that I was going to be responsible for, and all at once to boot.
'What part of me looked reliable?! What part?!' I internally ranted even as I smiled. "So… Can you tell us exactly what happened?"
As expected, the two men's faces darkened before Wayne stepped forward.
"It started when scouts spotted the orc forces massing on the far side of the mountains. We believe that they intend to launch a surprise attack on our position with overwhelming numbers," Wayne said. "Thankfully, Knight-Champion Sunder of the 19th ordered for barricades and defensive fortifications to be built since we were stationed there. Looking back at it, his far-sighted vision probably saved us."
"When they launched their attack, they were bottlenecked by the pass and our fortification," Lowell chimed in and took over, though his eyes had a distant expression to them. "They pushed hard, but we held strong. Sometimes, they would actually breach our lines, but we were able to close it every time. We had reported the situation to Stonewatch Keep, but we were told to hold until more reinforcement arrived. They were afraid the orcs might find the pathway north in the Burning Steppes and slip into our territory and behind our lines. With fifteen thousand men and our fortifications, we thought that the task was achievable."
"Do you know the orc numbers?" Gavinrad interrupted before Lowell could continue.
"Thousands," Wayne instantly replied.
"Tens of thousands," Lowell corrected his comrade. "They filled the northeastern pass with great numbers."
"So you were overwhelmed?" Gavinrad asked but was answered with twin headshakes.
"While we were able to weather their savage fury…" Lowell's expression darkened. "What we did not anticipate was their foul magi's ability to suppress our conjurers and break through our lines."
The man's face twisted into one of anger and rage as his fist was balled tightly.
"These warlocks and necrolyte cast foul dark spells that killed our men wholesale. The Knight-Champions were able to kill a few of them, forcing them to pull back, but the damage was done." Wayne took over from Lowell, seeing the other Master Sergeant's anger. "Our fortifications decayed in front of our eyes and allowed the orcs to turn the tables on us."
"So that's what happened." Gavinrad's expression was grim or should I say 'dire'. Now I know how he got his title. "So you lost your commanders during the retreat?"
The two men had thousand-yard stares, lost in their memories before I coughed politely. The two snapped out of it, though only Wayne answered.
"No, Sir Gavinrad." Wayne balled his fist. "Even with the orc's great numbers, the Knight-Champions inspired us to hold on and stand in the face of the enemy, to not let them overrun us and attack our homes. We were all strengthened by their words until...until..."
"Until they were all struck down by the foulest of the orc warlock," Lowell said with clenched jaws. "Dark magic rained down on us again, stronger and deadlier, destroying entire battalion formations."
"I...I saw my men's souls ripped out of their bodies..." Wayne whispered in mute horror. "What kind of fel magic could do that?"
"With our leaders and conjurers dead, we were helpless before their magical onslaught." Lowell's voice trembled from the memory. "We were forced to… retreat in the face of such power."
Wayne struck his friend's plate shoulders as if to encourage him or give him the strength to continue.
"Th-the 19th legion was able to retreat in the direction of Stonewatch, while our two remnant forces combined and moved toward the southern pass and cut west. However… The foul warlock has been hounding us and what was once six thousand men are now only a little over four," Lowell finally finished with a shuddering breath. "The rest you know. After our long march we came upon you."
War stories have always been a fascination to me but to hear it fresh… These guys were clearly traumatized by what they saw, perhaps a form of PTSD. Regardless, it was not something that could get diagnosed here even if I thought they were showing signs of it. That they did not break down made me realize how strong they were.
"So that warlock is coming this way..." Gavinrad's expression could have been carved from rock. "How big are the forces that harried you?"
"Perhaps twenty thousand, but no more than twenty-five."
I let out a long whistle that startled the soldiers around me. Yeah, we couldn't fuck with that many orcs, we were gonna have to get the fu–
"We will fight them here." Gavinrad's face was resolute while the Master Sergeants looked… less than thrilled.
"Umm, Gavinrad?" I held up a finger to get the knight's attention. "That's twenty-five thousand orcs and need I remind you that we only have five thousand soldiers at best!"
"And another three to four thousand militia." Gavinrad reminded me. I knew that, but they were militia! They were not soldiers you bring to war unless you had to, and he should have known that too!
"Fine, eight thousand, but did you not hear about that roided-out warlock of the orcs?" I reminded him. I saw his confused face at the word 'roided' and realized I slipped back into Earthanese. "We don't have conjurers with magic to go toe to toe with something that could destroy battalions wholesale!"
"We do not have a conjurer that is true..." Gavinrad agreed but I did not like that strange look in his eyes. I narrowed my eyes at him and realized what he was planning. That son of a bit– "...but we have you."
"Sir Callan's a Conjurer?" Wayne asked and looked at me with a surprised expression.
Gavinrad shook his head and turned to the two men. "No, he is not versed in the arcane arts. He's more like a–"
"Callan!" Mara's shout startled us. I turned to see the Cleric running up to us and without so much as a by your leave, she grabbed me by my arm. "I need you to come with me!"
'Phrasing!' I thought, but realized her mind was probably not as filthy as a modern day earth man. A moment later, she was pulling me to the not-church.
"Lady Fordragon?" Gavinrad asked but followed with two shadows trailing him.
"What's the matter?" I ran along with Mara. She had let go of my arm and instead was now pulling me from my wrist. "Something wrong? What is it, girl?"
I might have been wrong to use those 'Lassie' lines on her, but we arrived shortly at the not-church where many of the wounded outside of the building were looking much better. However, once we were inside, I felt it. It was shadow magic, but a cruder, crueler, version. In the center of the room were hundreds of men with burnt skins, charred exposed flesh, and blackened armors fused to said flesh. Black smoke could be seen emitting from the wound and dissipating into the room.
The sounds of the pained men and women were many times worse than what I saw a few days ago. The legions' clerics–roughly around twenty survivors–and my clerics were doing all that they could with the Light to ease their pain. For a while, it worked and the flesh healed but slowly, before our very eyes, the skin blackened again. Many of the soldiers were given cloth to bite on to endure the pain, but it was more so that they would not bite off their tongues.
"This is their foul magic at work." I turned to see it was Wayne who had spoken. His eyes were hard, but I could feel his helplessness at his men's suffering. "Many of our soldiers were afflicted by their dark curses. Those who couldn't endure took their own lives rather than live another moment in such pain."
"Callan, please tell me you can do something about this. Please, please tell me you can help them." Mara's pleading eyes were joined by her sisters. There was hope and fear mixed in them. They probably thought this was above my paygrade too but hoped that I could pull a miracle out of my ass.
The thing was… I might.
"Okay give me some space," I said as I went to the middle of the room and closed my eyes. I could hear my battle clerics hushing the regular clerics from their chatter.
Delilah could be strict when she wanted to be. With the room quiet, I thought to the soldiers and knew that it was magical in nature. It just so happened that priests did happen to have a little 'sumpin sumpin' for magical afflictions. The downside was that it could only affect a few random people. However, with Anduin's skillset, my little cheat, I just needed to channel and asked the Light to allow Mass Dispel to do a lot more.
"What is Sir Ca–" Lowell began.
"Quiet!" Gavinrad shut him down immediately.
After a full minute of channeling the Light into me and chanting the appropriate holy words, I thrust a hand into the air. I felt the Light fill the room and then twist like a ribbon as it exploded outward and brushed against everyone in the room.
"Did that do it?" I asked as I wiped a bit of the sweat from my brow and took a look at my results. The blackened flesh was now simply raw red. Some soldiers even passed out, the pain no longer keeping them awake. Most importantly, the stench of the evil dark magical curse was gone.
"By all that is holy..." Cleric Donovan uttered in awe. "How in the Light's name..."
I wasn't done. People were still hurt, and letting Mara and company practice their AOE spells on the wounded while I was already here was kind of cruel. So I gathered the Light to me once more, feeling it instantly rushing back to me gleefully. A few seconds later, I unleashed a golden ring that swept across the room and probably outside too. I didn't make the Halo too big this time, just enough for this room's size.
"By the Light!" It was Wayne who exclaimed as he stared at me with wide eyes. Lowell was not that much different, muted from seeing what I did.
"You see now why I say we could hold?" Gavinrad smiled at the two men. "Whatever those foul orcs do, Callan can undo it!"
The other clerics went about topping the wounded off, really mending them completely to full so that only the healed scars remained. I saw them sneak glances at me in between patients but felt that was understandable.
"Bu-but our Clerics couldn't..." Wayne boggled in my direction. "How?!"
"The Light granted him that strength!" Gavinrad explained with fervor. I could see the paladin part of him starting to peek out. The knight then swept his arms out. "However he is not alone! Callan is also training Lady Fordragon, Abbess Delilah, Lady Victoria, and the young maidens Alyson and Laura, in his ways to combat evil with the Light itself!"
The younger clerics finished healing the soldiers and were outright just staring at me with a gleam in their eyes. Mara and her crew, however, were looking very smug and righteous. That woman was drifting further and further away from the humble lady she presented herself as being when I first met her!
"C-Can we also?" Terah, one of the younger clerics, asked. "Learn your ways?"
"Nothing is impossible, sister." Laura saddled up next to Terah like a salesman or drug dealer, giving an innocent person their first taste of their product. "Follow Sir Callan, and he will light our way!"
"Also, we have two legions coming to our aid only a few days out." Gavinrad's news seemed to strengthen the two master sergeant's resolve.
"With Sir Callan's blessings and the two legions on the way..." Wayne's eyes which had been defeated were now filled with life again. What happened to the broken man with PTSD?
"We would pay them back for everything they had done to us!" Lowell wasn't any better as he gave me a heated look that made me feel a bit uncomfortable.
I turned away from the Master Sergeant only to see Mara and Delilah showing off their weapons, which were glowing gold with the Light, to their younger brother and sisters. Alyson herself was showing how she swung her mace and pantomimed the explosion of an orc's head.
I missed my nice girls…
I shook my head and went back to inform Jenkins to get ready for a siege though I still intend to evacuate the civilian. As I stepped outside I felt eyes on me and realized some must have gotten caught in my Halo spell. The people seem happy and content and in a way, I was responsible for giving them that happiness. In the words of the old fandoms on earth...I had to protect that smile.
Sighing and in deep thought, I made my way to the battlement and tried to spot the orc army. I knew it was a silly thing to do, but they were coming. The wait was also the worst part of combat. Thoughts of the recent invasion led my thoughts to drift to Lothar. I had confidence that he could handle himself in any pickle; he was the Lion of Azerothafter all and was meant to survive until...Doomhammer.
The thought of him dying, which had been an abstract thing in the background, suddenly reared its head, it suddenly hit me that I no longer viewed him as an NPC. It was always a distinction that I tagged onto people I had met, especially when I recognized them. I turned my eyes from the land to the sky… if I have to fight the Bronze to keep Lothar alive when the time comes...then in the words of Varian when he first met Garrosh in Dalaran.
'Want my blood? Come get it, pig-pig!'
At least.. I think that was what he said...
*** The Black Morass ***
Doomhammer returned from the day's battle frustrated. It has been two days since they assaulted the human position. Two days of hard fighting, two days that the humans remained defiant regardless of their losses. Two days since his friend's defeat.
Orgrim made his way to the Frostwolves camps, a pale shadow of what it once was. Where there used to be thousands of direwolves, there were only a few hundred left. Many had died on that day on, fighting the human-mounted warriors. It was a small consolation that, at the very least, the humans no longer had mounted warriors to call upon. Durotan's wolf riders did their job. Orgrim shook his head at thought and went to the chieftain's tent.
Doomhammer opened the tent slowly and saw Draka hunched over in prayer over Durotan's pale body. She was an orc worthy of any chieftain, and that his friend won her spoke of his leadership ability. He gazed at his friend's body, the Frostwolf Chieftain's vitality appearing to be gone. His skin was a paler brown that was drenched in sweat and his mouth could be seen moving, whispering something due to his fever. Where his right arm once was, there were now inadequate white dressings on the stump. They had to cauterize the stump or else his friend would have bled out.
"Our spirits have left us long ago, what's the use of praying to them?" Doomhammer asked, interrupting his friend's mate's prayers.
"Perhaps," Draka answered but did not get up. "But if there is even a chance that the spirits can hear me and heal him like the old days..."
"The old days are gone," Doomhammer warned her. "And so are our shamans. We have better magicks now."
Draka turned to Doomhammer, her teeth bared and her expression furious. "This is better? Magicks that cannot even heal my mate?!"
Doomhammer was not cowed and instead shook his head. "You refused Gul'dan's offer to...mend him."
"His foul magicks will not touch him!" Draka hissed angrily. "I'd rather have the Draenei heal him before I let any of Gul'dan's warlocks try!"
Doomhammer gave her a leveled stare. "I would be careful with what you say. Gul'dan has ears everywhere."
"Are you going to betray us, betray him?" Draka challenged as she looked at her mate.
Doomhammer remained silent.
"I heard you lost again today." Draka changed the subject to a sore point that the entire Horde was feeling.
"We did not lose!" Doomhammer growled. "We simply...ran out of time."
It was true. Once night came, the Horde was more likely to hurt themselves than their enemies. He was wrong to think the humans had honor. To think that after nightfall, their spies reported the Draenei-like healers healing their wounded. The Horde did not have such healers and had to make do with what was available. It was…not fair.
"Keep it up and you will run out of orcs," Draka cautioned as she turned to look at her husband. "Sixty thousand orcs are now dead with thousands more wounded. Gul'dan lied to us again."
Doomhammer was irked. Gul'dan have lied constantly since they got here. The humans, Doomhammer had to admit, were not weak. They were making them pay for every inch of ground they gained. Though, the only bright side was that at least half of the human forces were gone.
Orgrim looked to his friend once more and left the tent.
He made his way to the Blackrock camps and entered his Warchief tent where he saw the other chieftain was also in attendance. They were not supposed to be here.
"Warchief," Doomhammer greeted as he looked around the room. "I did not get word of a gathering."
Blackhand said nothing, he merely nodded.
"How is mighty Durotan?" Gul'dan asked insincerely. "I hope he is recovering well?"
"Well enough, warlock." Doomhammer growled, one hand on his hammer.
"Enough," Blackhand said as his eyes roamed the room. "I called you all here to notify you of our change tomorrow."
"What change?" Kilrogg, the Bleeding Hollow chieftain, asked.
"The Shadow Council will be taking to the field tomorrow," Blackhand answered, stunning the chieftains. Even Doomhammer was taken off guard by his warchief's sudden words.
Did Blackhand not say that he needed to answer a warrior's challenge in a warrior's way? Did he not forbid Gul'dan from taking the field? For him to allow Gul'dan in now….
Blackhand's gaze dared any chieftain to challenge his decision.
"Worry not, my warriors!" Gul'dan took to the center of the tent. "By this time tomorrow, the humans will be all dead! For the Horde!"
There were a few moments of silence before a few answered the warlock who appeared displeased but did not push it.
In a way, Doomhammer was glad that Gul'dan was entering the field. The humans were using magick to heal their wounded so it was only fair for them to use magick to kill them and make it stick.
TBC…
AN: First off thank you to Icura for helping beta read and edit this chapter. As always cannot do it without my Wordsmith partner in crime! Next I'm glad for the discussion in the previous chapter and the reviews. I really appreciate it!
For this chapter I was hoping to show why Lothar was fame and respected. Also it suppose to mirror and showcase father and son struggles. Hopefully it came off as such. There is not really much more I need to point out for the chapter as it should tell its own story. Hopefully you guys enjoy it!
Oh right, there will be another map that show what the tactical situation as of the end of chapter 11. For my fanfic readers, I do have maps of the battle at Spacebattles.
Thanks you once more and as always, all comments, reply and reviewed are greatly appreciated!
Note for my fanfic readers!: I believe some of the reviews feels that Callan is too modern. I would like to take the time now to explain why I wrote this story. I wanted to write a story where the SI doesn't go native. What do I mean by go native? You are an earth human transported to a fantasy world. Act like an earth human! Show off that earth knowledge in terms of speech, thinking, and personal internal jokes. I am not knocking other stories but I find that many SI stories both fanfic and original, in particular eastern xanxia and korean mahwa, their MC goes native WAYYYY to fast. Its as if they forget everything about earth the moment they are transferred to another world. So Callan hold onto his earther side, he try to import music he like, he try to hold onto meme he find funny and yes use it. Does it make him an odd duck to them, yes, but his outward speech is Azerothian enough to pass muster where they don't question it. I show how he talk in the formal Azerothian way contrast with his earth base thinking. If an earth human see a massive structure like say Kings landing, he or she should compare it to major cities on earth like New York, Beijin or Tokyo not allude to it.