Legacy of Ruin, Chapter 1: Shattered (P3)

"He must have slipped during the fighting!" Wheann called out, looking around for any signs of the chaplain in the water. He found none.

"Are you filling in for him already?" Irewyth said, raising an eyebrow.

Wheann was visibly shocked at her lack of concern, but Irewyth disregarded him and thrust her staff in the air. The water started drifting back into the sea, and the ice block somehow went against the stream and floated them onto the mainland. The shore was littered with drowned insectoids, and the pits they had appeared from had all been filled up with sea water.

"Good," Chuth growled as he jumped off of the iceblock. "I was gettin' cold feet."

Irewyth ignored the sniper's complaints, following him down along with the others.

"Even Carekon wouldn't drown so fast," she said confidently, but when she looked at how quickly all the insectoids had drowned that confidence seemed to wane a little. "Spread out and go look for him. Go!" she quickly added. Then she suddenly slumped down to her knees, putting her hands on the ground in front of her to support herself. Llorrin quickly moved over to her side. She'd gone pale and was taking short, shallow breaths.

"Hey, are you alright?" Llorrin asked, crouching down next to Irewyth and reaching out a hand towards her back. The others meanwhile walked on ahead. Irewyth closed her eyes and sighed.

"Go. Look. For him," the hydromancess repeated before his hand ever reached her, a frown set upon her brow.

Llorrin made a face and joined the search for Carekon. He squinted and brought one hand up against the stinging sun. It was still almost unbearably hot. The sea water that had splashed onto him and seeped into his boots provided a welcome refreshment, even though he found the feeling of having water in his boots highly uncomfortable.

None of the insectoids still moved, but he still kept his distance when he could, only going near the water-filled pits to check for any signs of Carekon. He also made sure to reload his pistols. Llorrin didn't share Irewyth's optimism that the insectoids were just going to take this lying down.

"Carekon!" Wheann called. The others quickly joined in, their voices carrying far across the beach, but no answer came. The shock and the fight had taken a lot out of them. Any hope they had of finding Carekon began to dwindle as they neared the dunes beyond the beach. Llorrin was about to give up when all of a sudden he thought he sensed something elusive. He returned to check a pit he'd only just passed when he heard something burst up from the water behind him. He made a startled jump as he turned and aimed a pistol down, but lifted the weapon up again just as quickly when he was met with a familiar face.

"Carekon!" Llorrin said, grinning broadly to see that the chaplain was fine. With his free hand, Llorrin helped the aged man out of the pit. The chaplain was holding something in his hand. His maps, Llorrin realized... although they could hardly be called maps anymore. Apparently he'd made sure to hold onto them even as the waves had swept him away.

Talk about dedication, Llorrin thought as he stared at the ruined maps, unable to figure out whether he admired the chaplain or thought him insane.

"I will have to redraw this," Carekon said with a deep sigh. Llorrin nodded a little, his eyes already beginning to stray away to the horizon. Then Chuth's raw voice caught his attention.

"Chaplain!" the sniper called from further up shore. "Ye may want ta see this."

The insectoid's corpses weren't the only thing that had been lifted up by the water when the underground tunnels had been flooded. Something else was also floating in the pits. Llorrin almost winced at the sight. Those were dead humans, most of them in armour. Many were heavily mutilated.

"Gruesome," Carekon said, observing the dead bodies of their comrades. Llorrin nodded, more than forced to agree. Wheann was looking at Irewyth, who was still recovering.

"Hey Irewyth! Are you going to sit there all day?" the half-elf called, half-jokingly. 

The hydromancess got up but took her sweet time to get to them. When she reached them she slapped Wheann softly against the cheek as she passed him without even bothering to give him a look.

"We don't have time to bury the bodies... we'll have to send someone back to collect them later."

It didn't seem like the most respectful thing to do, but it wasn't easy to dig graves in the soft, wet soil, not to mention that they couldn't let the dead's weapons and armour go to waste. Carekon softly muttered a sermon for the dead. The main gist of it seemed to be that their souls would doubtless find their way to the Light. Llorrin only hoped that no wild animals would find the men before anyone could give them a proper burial. When Carekon was done muttering his sermon Wheann turned to him and Irewyth, his eyes moving in between them.

"So... what do we do now?" he asked.

To Lorrin's surprise it was Carekon who spoke up.

"We have to fulfill our task. We go further inland," the chaplain stated.

"Shouldn't we return to the base to warn Captain Adane about these creatures?" Llorrin suggested. The sun had already dried his clothes and was beginning to take its toll again.

"The captain has more than enough men with him to defend himself. Simple creatures such as these insects are unlikely to breach his defences, and it seems unlikely that they are capable of making an organized attack," Carekon said plainly.

Llorrin tried hard not to groan. He wiped his hand across his face to hide his sour expression, pretending he was only wiping his hair away from his eyes. This was going to become a long day. It was decided that Wheann would check ahead for any surprises, while the others rested and Carekon healed their wounds. Wheann returned, much too soon to Llorrin's liking, even though part of him did look forward to seeing what they would find in this strange land... Most of all he hoped to find more signs of their comrades.

"There are no more signs of those creatures, but they could be underground. We should stay as close to the water as possible. The beasts are unlikely to dig their tunnels so close to the sea," Wheann advised.

Carekon nodded.

"Good thinking, Wheann. They would risk getting drowned when the tide came if they did that," he praised the half-elf.

Phew, Lorrin thought, glad they would at least be staying near to the water and nice sea breeze. They quickly got moving.

"Do you have any idea what those were?" Llorrin asked Irewyth as Wheann once again went to scout on ahead. She didn't answer that immediately, and at first he thought she was going to ignore him, but it turned out she had just been thinking.

"I think those were Silithids," she said finally.

"Silithids?"

"You heard me," Irewyth said with a reprimanding look. She sighed. "It's all very vague. I think I've read something on them in the Dalaran library, in some very old tomes. It was... long ago," she said. Her lip quivered a little and her mask dropped for the first time that day. Suddenly she seemed much younger, more vulnerable.

Llorrin understood. The hydromancess had been born and raised in Dalaran, so it came as no surprise that thoughts of her home, which had been overrun by the undead Scourge, brought her sadness. At least Llorrin's home was still intact. After all he considered Kul Tiras his true and only home. I don't have any memories of that place, Llorrin told himself when his thoughts strayed to another place he could, and perhaps should have been calling home instead. Llorrin truly remembered nothing but the things he'd been told about his place of birth - a little fishing village near Hillsbrad - though, no matter how hard he tried. I spent almost all of my life in Kul Tiras, is it really a surprise it's the only home I remember having? he thought, trying hard to keep an image of Kul Tiras in his head rather than trying to imagine the village he'd never truly come to know, and wouldn't have been able to visit even if he had wanted to. After all, it wasn't there anymore. It hadn't been since the Second War and the coming of the Horde. Llorrin realized he'd drifted off and should have probably said something to soothe Irewyth, but quickly figured out it was already too late. They spent a few moments in silence, and then all of a sudden Irewyth increased her pace.

"I should go help Wheann," she brought out. "There's probably no more of these pits here, but we can't be too careful."

She left him in the company of Chuth and Carekon.

Great, Llorrin thought, but to his surprise the sniper started talking as soon as the hydromancess had gone.

"Got the hots for that lass? Take ma advice brat, I wuldn't go there."

Llorrin raised an eyebrow. He couldn't have been more surprised if Sir Lothar himself had suddenly appeared in the sky on the back of a gryphon.

"Since when do you give people relationship advice?" he asked, blinking a couple of times to make sure he was actually talking to Chuth.

Chuth squinted as he looked at him.

"Since now."

Llorrin wasn't feeling up for this.

"I bet you're a real lady's man, Chuth," he smirked, trying to end the conversation. To his dismay, the sniper wouldn't shut up.

"Don'tcha think it's suspicious?" he asked.

"What?"

"Conjuring that storm... Like the storm that almost took our 'eads."

That again, Llorrin thought, holding back a sigh.

"What she did back there was nowhere near the level of that storm, Chuth," Llorrin said without hesitation. "Even you said you'd never seen anything like it. Whatever caused it, I'm sure it's affected the whole world. Just look at the land."

Llorrin was aware of the ominous ring to his words. He wasn't sure why he sounded so certain about what he'd just said, but nevertheless, he was. He wished again that the Grand Admiral was alright.

Well, it shut Chuth up, at least that's something.

"We should head further inland," Carekon decided after a while. This time Llorrin groaned in dismay, but luckily the chaplain didn't seem to take notice.

"We could follow this coastline forever," Carekon continued, undisturbed. "Captain Adane wanted us to look for signs of civilization. We're not going to find much here."

Soon after he said that Wheann returned. It was easy to lose sight of the half-elf, but now he made his presence known. His worried expression promised little good. 

Llorrin grimaced. "More creatures?"

Chuth scoffed and brandished his musket. "Afraid boy? I say let 'em come."

"There's survivors, up ahead," Wheann whispered. "But they're not alone. Follow me, but keep your heads down. And draw your weapons."

They frowned, but did as they were told. They followed the faint tracks the half-elf had left back to the foot of a high, grassy dune, which they then proceeded to climb. Wheann motioned for them to be quiet and lie down. They crept the remaining distance and peered over the top of the dune, which descended rather steeply on the other side. Another dune opposite their position bordered a large flat area which harboured the skeleton of a great beast, one that was only partially covered by the sand. In between what must have been the ribs of the large beast a group of worn-out marines had been imprisoned. A group of tall, lean, dark-skinned creatures with tusks, long arms and extravagant hairstyles were fighting to keep a large man who had apparently broken free of his bonds under control. Trolls, Llorrin thought, though these trolls looked native to the area and couldn't have been part of the Horde: they had broken their alliance with the orcs at the end of the Second War. Apparently trolls found a way to survive everywhere. Llorrin was close enough to see the fear in the captured man's eyes: no doubt the trolls had something terrible in store for him. It was fortunate that the man put up such a good fight, because it distracted the trolls enough for their approach to go unnoticed. If any of them looked up...

It's clear they don't have a lot of natural enemies in the desert, Llorrin thought, noticing the lack of sentries guarding the camp. Perhaps they're just too primitive to think of something like that, he speculated, taking a closer look at the trolls. The trolls who had fought alongside the Horde during the Second War had been rather crafty, but it was possible this particular type wasn't as bright. They were rather simply dressed, clad only in trousers. Some of them wore tooth necklaces or had tattoos all over their bodies. Llorrin guessed those were the older, more experienced ones. They were armed with spears and axes, which looked crude, but were no doubt deadly. The forest trolls' ability to throw those types of weapons was famed, and Llorrin surmised these desert trolls would be no different.

The trolls finally got the struggling man under control and dragged him towards a pile of stacked wood, which another troll quickly ignited. He followed his gaze to find the exposed skeletons of dead men lying in the sand off to the side of the fire.

"We have to help them," he insisted, frustrated that Carekon had not yet given the order to charge.

"They outnumber us," Carekon stated.

"We have the element of surprise," Llorrin spoke urgently.

He looked over the trolls. Most were bare-chested, but one wore an intricate cape with all sorts of bones woven into the cloth, and held a staff. No doubt he was the leader, or at least some kind of spiritual leader. The forest trolls called them High Priests, but once again Llorrin wasn't sure whether it was the same for these types of trolls. Walking up to them and asking didn't seem like an option. The important-looking troll walked over to the fire and pulled out a knife. The knife quickly found the captured marine's throat. The trolls who weren't watching their prisoners gathered around and started repeating one and the same word over and over.

"Atal'Gahz'rilla, Atal'Gahz'rilla..." their voices drummed over and over, and the flames began to sway and expand, like they were reacting to their call.

"Chuth, put him down!" Llorrin insisted.

Chuth, who wasn't about to take orders from Llorrin, looked at Carekon for acknowledgement, but the chaplain said nothing.

"Do it!" Irewyth hissed.

Chuth lined up the shot as fast as he could. One of the trolls must have caught the glimmer of the sun on the steel edge of his rifle from the corner of his eye. The creature pointed and cried out, causing the other trolls to look up. The shaman's sacrificial knife lowered one inch, and that's when Chuth made the shot. The shaman's eye socket exploded as the bullet entered his head, and he crashed down.

"Boss-man!" one of the trolls cried out in horror. The flames roared up as if in anger before shrinking back to their original state.

The other trolls screamed in outrage when they saw the intruders and began to run around the camp to scoop up weapons, scattering in the process. The unfortunate prisoner tried to run, but was run through with a spear by one of the trolls that had already been armed. Llorrin was the first to charge down the hill, his knuckles turning white as they clenched around his cutlass. He didn't want to give the creatures the opportunity to consider using their prisoners as hostages, so he forsook all caution.

"For Kul Tiras!" Llorrin cried out as he charged down the hill. Drawing nearer, he noticed the fire burning in the troll's eyes and the dried blood that stained their tusks. His heart started beating faster as he ran on, determined not to cower before the trolls like he had cowered before the undead.

"Proudmoore! Proudmoore!" Chuth, ever devout to the Grand Admiral, shouted as he followed after the young marine.

Llorrin realized the odds were stacked against them: they'd have to take out some of the trolls quickly or risk being surrounded as the fight went on. He shot the first troll he came across with his pistol and sprinted on towards the next one. The troll behind the first tried to use Llorrin's momentum against him, intending to catch Llorrin's charge on his spear at the base of the dune. The spear shot forward like a snake, coming for his belly, but Llorrin showed he was light-footed and jumped to the side. Llorrin's pistol clashed against the troll's spear and pushed it aside, and his cutlass quickly made use of the opening, cutting the troll's throat. His companions sped past him in a blur as the troll fell, charging into the fray.

As the troll went down Llorrin caught something sailing through the air. He only just managed to react to it. A throwing axe clashed against the steel of his cutlass and bounced back into the sand. The shock could have knocked the cutlass out of his hands, but through sheer determination Llorrin somehow managed to hold on to it. His eyes followed the trajectory of the axe back to its owner and found a troll brandishing a number of small axes standing just beyond the fire. Llorrin scowled. The vile beast was already drawing back another axe. Without hesitation Llorrin surged forward, shifting his weight from the one foot to the other the moment the troll made his throw. The axe grazed his arm as it flew past, making a shallow cut. Llorrin winced in pain, but a small burst of light quickly appeared above the wound, removing any evidence of it in an instant. Carekon, Llorrin knew as he charged on, trying to ignore the intense heat that wafted over him as he passed the campfire. The troll tried to fight him with his axes, but Llorrin's cutlass was a superior melee weapon, and he took the axe thrower down with a series of vicious blows. 

Llorrin was just turning to look for another opponent when something slammed into his back, knocking him into the sand. In a reflex Llorrin twisted onto his side and rolled over his shoulder, kicking out. A shock of pain went through his shin as it connected with the leg of the largest troll he'd encountered yet, one with a tooth necklace and many tattoos. The raging warrior thrust down at him with his spear, and Llorrin just barely managed to twist his body out of the way, avoiding a lethal hit. The tip of the spear grazed his side, piercing the fabric of his uniform and pinning him to the ground. Llorrin struck out at him with his cutlass and managed to cut into his side, but didn't cut deeply enough to hurt the troll. Llorrin clenched his teeth against the pain and put all the force he could muster in a vertical kick to the groin that sent the troll screaming and staggering backwards, unfortunately without letting go of his spear.

Though he could feel blood beginning to well up from his side, Llorrin took the opportunity to push himself up. He took a wild swing at the warrior's head and attempted to stay close to his enemy, to keep the troll from using his longer reach to his advantage. His opponent however raised his spear and put the flat of his fist behind the point where both weapons connected, proceeding to push Llorrin's sword all the way down to the ground. Before Llorrin could counter the move a kick connected with his stomach with enough force to lift him off the ground. The force knocked all of the air out of his lungs and the cutlass slipped from his fingers. Llorrin clutched his stomach as he fell down to his knees. He looked up to see the troll spin his spear around and aim the tip at his neck. He saw the sun reflect off the tip as it shot towards his throat. Llorrin instinctively reached out and grabbed the spear just past the tip, stopping it an inch away from his neck. The troll continued to push, and his strength forced Llorrin to bring another hand up to the shaft.

The spear was quickly beginning to slip through his sweaty hands. Llorrin heard the familiar sound of magic energy being released, along with cries of pain and anger. He heard the sound of steel cutting through flesh, bones and wooden weapons as his companions fought the trolls. He was much too focused on his own struggle and couldn't even tell whether they were winning or losing. As he felt the tip of the spear prick into his neck Llorrin realized he no longer had a choice and instantaneously reached inside his pocket for his second pistol, aiming it up at his opponent's face. Llorrin's blue eyes met the troll's for the fraction of a second. The creature had fought Kul Tiras marines before: Llorrin could tell he knew what it was he held in his hand. Either way, it was too late. Without giving the troll a chance to pull back he pulled the trigger, hitting the troll in the throat. He quickly toppled backwards.

While he got up and the warrior lay dying, drowning in his own blood, Llorrin saw the fight had ended. To his surprise, all of his companions were still standing. Chuth - who had likely attracted a lot of attention from the trolls for killing their leader - was stained in blood, the grisly cut that ran from his shoulder all the way down to his forearm a clear sign of the anger the trolls had unleashed upon him. Nevertheless he seemed calm, cleaning off his bloodstained bayonet on the priest's ritual clothing. Wheann's daggers were slick with blood, but he had also suffered a cut across the left side of his chest himself. Irewyth was still standing at the base of the dune, panting slightly but seemingly unharmed. Two water elementals stood silently at her side, and the only trace she had left of her opponents were some frozen shards of ice at her feet.

Llorrin sighed as he looked at the man they'd failed to rescue. Damn savages, Llorrin thought.

"We won," Carekon said, observing the area. There were about a dozen desert troll corpses scattered around on the ground.

Llorrin turned to move towards the skeleton, where the prisoners were being held. Irewyth was close behind him. He stole a glance at her and decided that the hydromancess did look tired after all, but this time resisted the urge to ask how she was doing.

"Light bless you," one of the prisoners said. "We thought we were troll meat."

Llorrin didn't feel like he wanted to inquire what he meant by that. The sight of the skeletons would probably haunt his dreams already. Besides, he had to focus on getting these men out. The beast's ribs were in his way. With the adrenaline still pumping, the thought of going around didn't appeal to him much. He grabbed one of the ribs and started cutting at it. His cutlass cut into the bone several times, and he proceeded to break the weakened rib with some fell kicks, all the while feeling Irewyth's eyes on his back. The soldiers were all tied up, so he used his knife to start freeing them.

"What happened to you?" he inquired.

"Ahem," one of the marines said. He had trouble speaking, like his throat was much too dry. "We are the crew of the Light's Pride, or rather, what's left of it," he spoke. "During the storm, the Hope crashed into us. We realized there was nothing we could do to stop the ship from sinking, so we boarded our sloops and tried to escape. Needless to say our sloops didn't last long. Those of us who didn't drown on the way to the shore were picked up by the trolls. They sacrificed some of us. We thought we were all going to die!"

"At least it brought us all together again," another, more optimistic-looking marine shrugged.

Llorrin sighed, wondering what grim fate had befallen the crews they hadn't found back yet. A man with a crazed look in his wide open eyes continued the tale.

"They... they wanted to know where we were f-f-from, if- whether we had come to invade them! When they lost their interest they started killing us off! One each day. First, they ate Johnatan, and y-yesterday they ate Luglan. It was the shaman! He killed them! It was a sacrifice to their god!" the man rambled, his eyes glazing over as he spoke.

"I saw it," Llorrin told him, unwilling to hear any more, though he did wonder what that 'Atal'Gahz'rilla' thing the trolls had been saying could possibly have referred to, and if what he supposed was the savages' deity even existed. Probably not, he decided.

"You... You'll have to burn them. The smell of the blood will attract hyenas, or worse," the scared man advised him, his eyes moving in between his saviour's face and the corpses several times. Llorrin kept freeing more of the men and looked to Irewyth, who had undoubtedly heard the scared marine's advice. The hydromancess nodded and started walking back to where the corpses were.

"So this continent has its own native savages. I wonder what the admiral will think of that," Llorrin changed the subject.

He had a pretty good idea what Admiral Proudmoore would have to say about these trolls, especially when they reported to him what they had been doing to his men, but he wanted to avoid having to hear more about how the trolls had treated their prisoners.

A demeaning chuckle broke his attention away from his task. Llorrin looked up in the direction of the sound. The voice was deep and evil-sounding, and definitely not human. It made his hair stand on end. Then he saw it, and the adrenaline, the hate that had only just been subsiding, once again burned through his body like a river of fire. At the edge of the skeleton, near where the tail of the once mighty creature began was a captured orc, bound by his hands and feet like the rest of the men.