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Viridan and Hathmelor, part 1
Huzzah! There has been writing! And since these characters are better at elbowing the others out of the way to get my attention, I'm writing World of Warcraft ficcage. It should be understandable even by non-gamers, there's a glossary at the end for anyone who finds themselves terminally lost anyway, and I want to share... because these two have made it very clear that they're setting up shop in my head for the long term.
*ahem* There will eventually be pr0n. /facepalm
Warnings for the current part: a little language. Note to WoW aficionados: this fic takes place during Wrath of the Lich King, well before Arthas's defeat and Deathwing's little tantrum. :)
Viridan and Hathmelor
Part 1: Wherein Viridan learns to hate PUGs.
Viridan was becoming distinctly fed up.
The worgen priest growled under his breath as he followed the rest of the group. For all the leader’s blustering about loot and glory, all he seemed to be able to find was trouble in the form of assorted undead monstrosities. There had been the little scuttling bug-things that dug their way out of the snow, and the big spider-ant-things that came out of holes in the ground, and the creepy flying things that dropped out of the trees, and for a memorably exciting ten minutes there had been a Forsaken patrol from the Horde town of Venomspite. At least the moron had shown wit enough to run from that little encounter, before the enemy troops had a chance to call up reinforcements… like maybe some of those huge shambling abominations they used as guards.
The human warrior and his rogue friend hadn’t had wit enough to avoid or escape any of the other fights. Loot had been notably absent. Large repair bills were looking likely.
Viridan thought he now knew why none of the more experienced healers had been willing to tag along.
-----
Thirty minutes later, he was considering abandoning the two human fools to their fates and making his own way back to Wintergarde Keep. He didn’t want to get a reputation as the sort of person who would do that – without a guild, he was dependant on the ‘kindness of strangers’ whenever he needed help to accomplish something, and nothing would hamper that worse than being known as unreliable – but surely these twits must already have a reputation as people who deserved abandonment?
If they didn’t, Viridan resolved grimly, he was going to create it. Three times so far, the humans had ignored creatures attacking him, forcing him to defend himself, and then had the gall to complain that he wasn’t healing them! They never waited for him to catch his breath, they wouldn’t stop for him to drink or even warm his hands, cramped and cold from running on all fours through snow. And now, just when he thought he had a moment to rest while the humans argued over their map, the rogue had seen movement in the bushes and thrown a dagger at it without a moment’s thought.
Thought would have been nice. For example, a thought along the lines of “there might be more than one of whatever that is”.
It was little scuttling bug-things again.
There were a lot of them.
And the moment he cast his first spell, they turned on him.
“Little help here?!” he yelled, throwing up a shield barely in time to intercept half a dozen wads of poison spit. Claws and mandibles scrabbled hungrily, inches away from his skin. He could feel the barrier weakening, eroded by multiple simultaneous attacks, and had the rogue just laughed?
“You aggroed them, you kill them!” the human sniggered, slapping a bug-thing off the warrior’s back, totally ignoring the ones surrounding Viridan. The bastards were actually moving away, dispatching the few attackers following them and leaving the rest--!
Fire boiled around Viridan’s failing shield as a dragonhawk screamed, pouncing from one bug to the rest, attracting their attention with quick bites and snarls. A lithe figure in glittering mail was suddenly just there, kicking one bug away from the worgen’s ankles, blocking others’ attacks with a pair of daggers, then switching smoothly to a bow as the pet taunted the creatures into following it away. Flowing white hair, long ears, too slender in the shoulders to be a male night elf – a female, then?
Something twinged in the back of Viridan’s mind even as he switched targets and sent a barrage of Holy energy into the scuttling melee. He’d seen a lot of night elves, both during the evacuation of Gilneas and afterwards, and this one was unusually short…
The fight was over in short order, and he snarled to himself as he noted that the hunter’s pet was a better tank than the warrior had ever dreamed of being. So nice to fight alongside someone competent. Maybe I can follow her back to Wintergarde? “Ishnu-alah,” he said in halting Darnassian. “Thank you. I thought—”
His rescuer turned to him, grinned, and said something completely incomprehensible. Eyes glowed lambent green in a face nearly as white as his hair as the male blood elf bowed.
“…Huh,” Viridan said eventually, closing his mouth before either flies got in (as his mother had always threatened) or the elf took the display of fangs as a threat. “I, er, don’t suppose you speak Common?”
The elf blinked, shrugged, and said something else untranslatable. Probably “I don’t suppose you speak Orcish”, Viridan thought with a trace of humour. Ah well. Forced to do without words, he bowed in his turn, as elegantly as a seven-foot-tall werewolf can.*
“Right,” the warrior hissed, getting over the surprise and setting his feet to charge. “You, worg, make yourself useful for once and Fear his pet if you can—”
“You lay a blade on that elf and I’ll Penance your arses into the ground myself!” Viridan roared, bristling. “You bleeding morons! We’re supposed to have a truce with the Horde so we can both concentrate on the Scourge! First you stir up the bedamned Forsaken and now you want to mug a lone hunter who just helped us?! Fuck you! In fact, fuck you twice, sideways! You arseholes can go look for your imaginary ‘treasure’ on your own, because it’ll be a hot day in Icecrown before I’ll heal you again!”
The humans gaped open-mouthed at him in the shocked silence that followed, broken only by the sound of snow falling from branches around the clearing. The pale elf raised an eyebrow, looking at Viridan with an expression of mingled surprise and respect; then his eyes narrowed, glancing sidelong at the humans, and he made a tiny gesture with one hand. His dragonhawk chirped quietly and fluttered away, seeming to inspect some of the bug carcasses.
Viridan snorted quietly to himself as he saw what the hunter had done with that little gesture. The elf was no fool, even if the humans hadn’t noticed it yet.
“Are you insane?” the warrior yelled finally, gathering his wits. “He’s a blood elf! They’re not just Horde, they’re traitors to the Alliance!”
“And humans have fought on every possible side of every war since history began,” Viridan growled back. “So what?”
“We can take you down along with him if we have to!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Viridan very pointedly looked at the rogue, then shifted his gaze upwards.
“What are you—shit!”
There was a glowing red arrow of light bobbing up and down over the rogue’s head, indelibly pointing out his location and making it impossible for him to stealth. As he turned to stare at it, the warrior glimpsed red-gold feathers out of the corner of his eye, and completed the turn to see the dragonhawk hovering mere feet away, watching him with predatory intent.
The blood elf snickered quietly, pulled out a skinning knife, and crouched down to start removing useful bits of chitin from the dead bugs.
-----
* How elegantly can a seven-foot-tall werewolf bow, I hear you ask? The answer is: Very.
-----
USEFUL TERMS:
PUG: "Pick-Up Group". A group of strangers helping each other with a task (e.g. a quest, or to kill something bigger than they are). Feared and loathed by many, because you don't know what the other group members will be like until they flake on you in the middle of combat.
Alliance: One of the two factions in World of Warcraft, comprised of Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes, Night Elves, Draenei, and Worgen.
Horde: The other faction, containing Orcs, Trolls, Forsaken (free-willed Undead), Tauren, Blood Elves, and Goblins.
Worgen: Humanoid werewolves. They have both a human and a worgen form, switching freely between them, but must take worgen form when in combat or to run as fast as other races' mounts. They speak Common.
Blood Elves: The pretty Horde race. Once called High Elves, they defected to the Horde after the Scourge decimated their homeland and Alliance generals kept ordering their few remaining forces into suicidal battles. Distantly related to Night Elves. They speak Orcish and Thalassian.
The Scourge: Undead armies (not free-willed) under the rule of the Lich King, currently attempting to wipe out all life on Azeroth. Boo, hiss.
Tank: The member of a party who keeps the enemy's attention (AKA "aggro") while everyone else kills it. A good tank is worth their weight in gold; a bad tank is painful.
Rogue: Members of this class wear leather, sneak around, and stab things a lot.
Warrior: Members of this class wear plate armour, hit enemies with big pointy or smashy things, and sometimes act as tanks (not always successfully).
Priest: Holy priests heal their friends; Shadow priests melt faces ER I MEAN kill the enemy with dark magic; Discipline priests can either heal, or kill the enemy with Holy magic. Viridan is a Discipline priest.
Hunter: Members of this class wear mail, shoot things with various projectile weapons, and have pet animals that stop enemies from gnawing on the hunter instead of dying.
Dragonhawk: What it sounds like; an animal that looks like a cross between a dragon and a bird of prey. Breathes fire that increases its target's vulnerability to spells. Creepily enough, these creatures have no legs and never land until they die. O_o;;
Penance: The Discipline priest's go-to spell, multiple bursts of Holy energy that will heal your friends or fry your enemies, depending on who you aim it at.
Hunter's Mark: Not named in the fic, but this is the handy-dandy Hunter ability that puts a big red glowing arrow above your target, stopping them from hiding. Also increases damage dealt by ranged attacks.
Ishnu-alah: A greeting in Darnassian (the Night Elves' language). "Good fortune to you".
*ahem* There will eventually be pr0n. /facepalm
Warnings for the current part: a little language. Note to WoW aficionados: this fic takes place during Wrath of the Lich King, well before Arthas's defeat and Deathwing's little tantrum. :)
Viridan and Hathmelor
Part 1: Wherein Viridan learns to hate PUGs.
Viridan was becoming distinctly fed up.
The worgen priest growled under his breath as he followed the rest of the group. For all the leader’s blustering about loot and glory, all he seemed to be able to find was trouble in the form of assorted undead monstrosities. There had been the little scuttling bug-things that dug their way out of the snow, and the big spider-ant-things that came out of holes in the ground, and the creepy flying things that dropped out of the trees, and for a memorably exciting ten minutes there had been a Forsaken patrol from the Horde town of Venomspite. At least the moron had shown wit enough to run from that little encounter, before the enemy troops had a chance to call up reinforcements… like maybe some of those huge shambling abominations they used as guards.
The human warrior and his rogue friend hadn’t had wit enough to avoid or escape any of the other fights. Loot had been notably absent. Large repair bills were looking likely.
Viridan thought he now knew why none of the more experienced healers had been willing to tag along.
-----
Thirty minutes later, he was considering abandoning the two human fools to their fates and making his own way back to Wintergarde Keep. He didn’t want to get a reputation as the sort of person who would do that – without a guild, he was dependant on the ‘kindness of strangers’ whenever he needed help to accomplish something, and nothing would hamper that worse than being known as unreliable – but surely these twits must already have a reputation as people who deserved abandonment?
If they didn’t, Viridan resolved grimly, he was going to create it. Three times so far, the humans had ignored creatures attacking him, forcing him to defend himself, and then had the gall to complain that he wasn’t healing them! They never waited for him to catch his breath, they wouldn’t stop for him to drink or even warm his hands, cramped and cold from running on all fours through snow. And now, just when he thought he had a moment to rest while the humans argued over their map, the rogue had seen movement in the bushes and thrown a dagger at it without a moment’s thought.
Thought would have been nice. For example, a thought along the lines of “there might be more than one of whatever that is”.
It was little scuttling bug-things again.
There were a lot of them.
And the moment he cast his first spell, they turned on him.
“Little help here?!” he yelled, throwing up a shield barely in time to intercept half a dozen wads of poison spit. Claws and mandibles scrabbled hungrily, inches away from his skin. He could feel the barrier weakening, eroded by multiple simultaneous attacks, and had the rogue just laughed?
“You aggroed them, you kill them!” the human sniggered, slapping a bug-thing off the warrior’s back, totally ignoring the ones surrounding Viridan. The bastards were actually moving away, dispatching the few attackers following them and leaving the rest--!
Fire boiled around Viridan’s failing shield as a dragonhawk screamed, pouncing from one bug to the rest, attracting their attention with quick bites and snarls. A lithe figure in glittering mail was suddenly just there, kicking one bug away from the worgen’s ankles, blocking others’ attacks with a pair of daggers, then switching smoothly to a bow as the pet taunted the creatures into following it away. Flowing white hair, long ears, too slender in the shoulders to be a male night elf – a female, then?
Something twinged in the back of Viridan’s mind even as he switched targets and sent a barrage of Holy energy into the scuttling melee. He’d seen a lot of night elves, both during the evacuation of Gilneas and afterwards, and this one was unusually short…
The fight was over in short order, and he snarled to himself as he noted that the hunter’s pet was a better tank than the warrior had ever dreamed of being. So nice to fight alongside someone competent. Maybe I can follow her back to Wintergarde? “Ishnu-alah,” he said in halting Darnassian. “Thank you. I thought—”
His rescuer turned to him, grinned, and said something completely incomprehensible. Eyes glowed lambent green in a face nearly as white as his hair as the male blood elf bowed.
“…Huh,” Viridan said eventually, closing his mouth before either flies got in (as his mother had always threatened) or the elf took the display of fangs as a threat. “I, er, don’t suppose you speak Common?”
The elf blinked, shrugged, and said something else untranslatable. Probably “I don’t suppose you speak Orcish”, Viridan thought with a trace of humour. Ah well. Forced to do without words, he bowed in his turn, as elegantly as a seven-foot-tall werewolf can.*
“Right,” the warrior hissed, getting over the surprise and setting his feet to charge. “You, worg, make yourself useful for once and Fear his pet if you can—”
“You lay a blade on that elf and I’ll Penance your arses into the ground myself!” Viridan roared, bristling. “You bleeding morons! We’re supposed to have a truce with the Horde so we can both concentrate on the Scourge! First you stir up the bedamned Forsaken and now you want to mug a lone hunter who just helped us?! Fuck you! In fact, fuck you twice, sideways! You arseholes can go look for your imaginary ‘treasure’ on your own, because it’ll be a hot day in Icecrown before I’ll heal you again!”
The humans gaped open-mouthed at him in the shocked silence that followed, broken only by the sound of snow falling from branches around the clearing. The pale elf raised an eyebrow, looking at Viridan with an expression of mingled surprise and respect; then his eyes narrowed, glancing sidelong at the humans, and he made a tiny gesture with one hand. His dragonhawk chirped quietly and fluttered away, seeming to inspect some of the bug carcasses.
Viridan snorted quietly to himself as he saw what the hunter had done with that little gesture. The elf was no fool, even if the humans hadn’t noticed it yet.
“Are you insane?” the warrior yelled finally, gathering his wits. “He’s a blood elf! They’re not just Horde, they’re traitors to the Alliance!”
“And humans have fought on every possible side of every war since history began,” Viridan growled back. “So what?”
“We can take you down along with him if we have to!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Viridan very pointedly looked at the rogue, then shifted his gaze upwards.
“What are you—shit!”
There was a glowing red arrow of light bobbing up and down over the rogue’s head, indelibly pointing out his location and making it impossible for him to stealth. As he turned to stare at it, the warrior glimpsed red-gold feathers out of the corner of his eye, and completed the turn to see the dragonhawk hovering mere feet away, watching him with predatory intent.
The blood elf snickered quietly, pulled out a skinning knife, and crouched down to start removing useful bits of chitin from the dead bugs.
-----
* How elegantly can a seven-foot-tall werewolf bow, I hear you ask? The answer is: Very.
-----
USEFUL TERMS:
PUG: "Pick-Up Group". A group of strangers helping each other with a task (e.g. a quest, or to kill something bigger than they are). Feared and loathed by many, because you don't know what the other group members will be like until they flake on you in the middle of combat.
Alliance: One of the two factions in World of Warcraft, comprised of Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes, Night Elves, Draenei, and Worgen.
Horde: The other faction, containing Orcs, Trolls, Forsaken (free-willed Undead), Tauren, Blood Elves, and Goblins.
Worgen: Humanoid werewolves. They have both a human and a worgen form, switching freely between them, but must take worgen form when in combat or to run as fast as other races' mounts. They speak Common.
Blood Elves: The pretty Horde race. Once called High Elves, they defected to the Horde after the Scourge decimated their homeland and Alliance generals kept ordering their few remaining forces into suicidal battles. Distantly related to Night Elves. They speak Orcish and Thalassian.
The Scourge: Undead armies (not free-willed) under the rule of the Lich King, currently attempting to wipe out all life on Azeroth. Boo, hiss.
Tank: The member of a party who keeps the enemy's attention (AKA "aggro") while everyone else kills it. A good tank is worth their weight in gold; a bad tank is painful.
Rogue: Members of this class wear leather, sneak around, and stab things a lot.
Warrior: Members of this class wear plate armour, hit enemies with big pointy or smashy things, and sometimes act as tanks (not always successfully).
Priest: Holy priests heal their friends; Shadow priests melt faces ER I MEAN kill the enemy with dark magic; Discipline priests can either heal, or kill the enemy with Holy magic. Viridan is a Discipline priest.
Hunter: Members of this class wear mail, shoot things with various projectile weapons, and have pet animals that stop enemies from gnawing on the hunter instead of dying.
Dragonhawk: What it sounds like; an animal that looks like a cross between a dragon and a bird of prey. Breathes fire that increases its target's vulnerability to spells. Creepily enough, these creatures have no legs and never land until they die. O_o;;
Penance: The Discipline priest's go-to spell, multiple bursts of Holy energy that will heal your friends or fry your enemies, depending on who you aim it at.
Hunter's Mark: Not named in the fic, but this is the handy-dandy Hunter ability that puts a big red glowing arrow above your target, stopping them from hiding. Also increases damage dealt by ranged attacks.
Ishnu-alah: A greeting in Darnassian (the Night Elves' language). "Good fortune to you".
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I know nothing of WoW, however, I am willing to learn in order to read more of this story. This is great, I can't wait to find out what happens next.
~Allison
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My WOW knowledge is minimal, but I had No problems following along. There ia enough context given that the list of terms is good for non-WOWcrafters to gain additional context and details, but wasn't actually necessary to read and enjoy the story. About half-way through I realized Viridian had to be werewolf-ish and the list was nice enough to confirm it.
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And the snark will continue! The next part or two will have less snark and more dark, but the part I'm writing right now (which unfortunately can't be posted yet 'cause I need to write the bits in between darnit) is positively snarkilicious. XD
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