Sticky

This is the story of a group of seven friends that play a video game together. The blog will be updated once a week, each Tuesday, with a new chapter. Chapter 2 on Tuesday, 9/2/14.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Chapter 5 - Criminals and Portals and Labyrinths

“We can’t,” retorted Jason. “We can’t go back. They could put two-and-two together. Snaps could squeal. We can’t go to, what would it be… jail?” he finished, confused by their moral plight.

“Jason’s right; besides, he’s just a video game character. None of this shit is real, it’s all one’s and zero’s. We are real. We need to remember that.” Alex said.

Jason glanced at him warily. Never were the two men on the same side of an issue.

“Ye be wantin’ another round uh mead, fellers?” asked the frumpily warted dwarven barmaid.

“We’ve only been here two minutes,” said Stephen, shaking his head.

The woman paused, looked him up and down, “not much of uh manly thing-ta say, now was tha’?” she replied and turned her back to the men.

“Well, we’ve made it here,” said Josh, “let’s just finish our drinks, scarf down some food, and get our bearings. Something, somewhere around here ought to give us a clue what comes next.”

The men agreed and hungrily pulled apart seared talbuk steaks with their teeth, alongside burnt root vegetables. Alex braved the meat, but grimaced over the smallest of bites and shook his head. He returned to the vegetation, seemingly enjoying the scorched, yet somehow undercooked, bulbs.

They emerged back out onto the sprawling, massive central platform of the capital city. A monolith of unimaginable height towered at its heart, casting deep shadows over sections of the bustle. There were quarters. Great, tightly-packed centers with rich themes. The red and tan crystalline buildings, with highly ornate decorum indicated the Blood Elves claimed the patch of platform to their left, while green and blue and purple glowed faintly and wispily around their feet, as they moved through a Draenei corridor.

There were Orcs and Trolls and great matted-furred Tauren in the far distance. Though they stunk of rot and they grunted and pulled crude faces at the more civilized races, the carefully-placed guard kept them in check. For here, two vehemently opposed factions shared an uneasy space.

They moved toward to monolithic colosseum at the heart of the city. Inside, hundreds of people of all races moving about ardently, Stephen spotted what he was looking for and moved forward with purpose.

A great being, shimmering white and gold, carved out of perfect geometric shapes, with a soft mist of pure magical energy exuding from him. A’dal, leader of the Sha’tar. This impressively tall - hmm, let’s say “being” - loomed over the men now approaching him.

“Approach, mighty heralds of the Alliance, and ask of me what you will,” beckoned a ringing, impressive voice. It was deep and reverberating.

“Oh great A’dal, we humble ourselves in your presence-” Stephen was cut off, as he genuflected.

“You needn’t act thusly. Stand and address me as a brave warrior,” he said.

Embarrassed, Stephen stood and stepped back a bit, craning his neck high to meet A’dal’s gaze, “we are - err, we are not of this land. We seek our, uh, homeland. Do you know where we might seek it?” he finished stumbling.

There was a moment of surveying and then A’dal boldly said, “but of course, you do not belong here. No one, in fact, any longer ought to call this wretched befouled place home.

“Far to the east in the Hellfire Peninsula you may find a portal to Azeroth, if that is where you call home”.

“Um,” said Josh, stepping forward, “we don’t belong there either. We don’t belong anywhere in this world”.

A’dal was clearly confused.

“What he means,” said Garrett, now stepping up to speak, “is that we seek another - plane altogether. It is a world unlike the defiled Draenor. It is a world similar, but apart from Azeroth. This place is called, ‘Earth’. Surely you are familiar with other planes of existence?” Garrett had perhaps spent the most time in-game working with A’dal and so he took it upon himself to hush the others and address the great glowing entity.

He considered, “yes, there are many other planes, with most of which I am not familiar. One of which, perhaps you would call home. There is a man for which I have heard rumor. This man is known by some as The Portal Keeper. I do not know where he is to be found, but I do know he wields unimaginable magical prowess,” A’dal finished.

“So this sorcerer,” Garrett pushed on, “you don’t know where to find him? You only know he is powerful?”

“This man,” said A’dal, “is rumored to be a cunning criminal. The tale tells he forged his way into Outland from Azeroth, evading capture from the Night Elves seeking him. He fortified himself somewhere in Outland. Do not ask me where, for I know not. That is all I know of the story,” A’dal said.

“And from whom did you hear this tale?” questioned Jason.

“It is told by many, its origin also unknown,” replied the floating spirit.

---

“Well that tells us jack shit,” said Alex, shaking his head.

The men sat off the side of the lane of foot traffic in a small Alliance corridor on a lower level of the city. The grass was springy here and the ambience was calm.

“What about Medivh?” asked Stephen, squinting in deep thought.

“Go on.”

“Well, he was involved in the opening of the Dark Portal, he’s got to somehow be involved.”

“How do you figure? Medivh is dead,” shot Garrett.

“Right,” said Josh, siding with Stephen, “but his father’s not. His father would probably be in-the-know in all this.”

“So the theory is that Medivh’s father, since he’s some great sorcerer or something, will know something about portals or powerful magical criminals, or something and that will somehow get us closer to home?” asked Jason, making tally marks with his fingers as he spoke.

“Well it’s all we’ve got,” said Stephen, “unless you have another idea?”

“But who is Medivh’s father? Wouldn’t that dude be like a thousand years old or something? How can he still be alive?” asked Pat.

“Well, maybe alive isn’t the right term, but I know where to find him,” said Stephen. “But first, we need resources.”

“Yeah, I’m not crazy about stealing constantly,” said Pat.

“And that was pretty shitty what we did to Snaps, even if he is just a video game character,” said Raleigh.

The men pondered for a few moments. In-game, one could achieve wealth either through their profession or, to a lesser extent, through adventuring. Since none of them knew the first thing about blacksmithing or potion making or working leather, they opted for the latter.

“Zangarmarsh is just to our north. And fuck that place! And then Nagrand is far to the west. There is lots to gain there, sure, but it’s a long ways from here,” said Jason. “So that leaves Terokkar Forest just south of here-”

“Auchindoun!” shot Alex, excitedly.

“Well what the fuck are we waiting for? Let’s get on the move!” exclaimed Josh, with a brutish tone, standing up.

---

The ominous halls loomed ahead, spider webbed like a dryer exhaust and glowing deeply with tantalizing blue and menacing green torches that were magically fueled and attached at tall sconces on the walls. This labyrinth of bones and demon worship contained men and beasts fascinated by the nuances and depth of torture. Corpses laid crudely behind them, as the men cut a calculated path of carnage through the Shadow Labyrinth. They finally had reached a long, wretched-looking hallway where they knew what was to be found at the end, but the walls spilled into darkness before they could catch a glimpse.

“I don’t feel great about this. What’s our plan here?” asked Garrett.

They spent a few minutes going over the finer points and, nerves on high alert and hearts beating violently, they stepped into the center of the corridor and Josh braced his shield in front of him, ready to move into the pits of uncertainty.

A horn, like a massive trombone calling a deep and raspy -GAAAAAWW- screech sounded. From the bowels of the darkness ahead, purple and green cloaked orcs began to charge at the men, all screaming and holding weapons high in zeal. Metal clashed with metal, as Josh threw battle axes and iron staves to the side, narrowly missing his nose. Raleigh pounded the ground violently with his mace, causing a quaking that unseated several of the cloaked figures. Pat was at work, alternating between three different orcs, jabbing and ducking and leg sweeping as he moved smoothly and precisely. Alex had exploded into the form of a grizzled monstrous bear, swiping thick talons and slamming solid paws into the chests of cloaks and breastplates.

It was all well orchestrated, the men soon stood among a pile of mangled flesh at their feet. Jason breathed heavily, clutching his sides, which ached after shouting incantations aggressively at his allies. Stephen flexed his fingers, knuckles popping and rumbling, releasing the tension that came with launching dozens of deadly accurate arrows through the air like wind. Garrett was blowing cool air on his palms; they had heated with the friction of the intense arcane magic he hurled. He shook his fingers like a rattle-can, biting his teeth as he recovered from the burning magic.

Just then, torrential gusts of wind circled around them, sucking them inward, toward the end of the now illuminated corridor, where a vast and deep chamber fell skyward, wind spinning and twisting the matter within it. Like a dust devil, a blue-green mass of translucent plasma manifested before their eyes and a great thundering sound met them. The men all grabbed their ears, shrieking against the deafening thunder. And a face grew from the homogenous mass gyrating at the center of the chamber.

“It’s Murmur! Go now! Everybody get to your places!” Josh called in a panic,  as he lifted his sword high and rushed the pulsating column of noise, now manifesting an ugly horned face from its peak.

The men ran to surround it, Stephen and Garrett and Jason keeping a distance and hurling projectiles, while Pat, Raleigh, and a cat-like Alex ran to the very threshold of the whirling form. The men rained down bolts of magic, showers of arrows, flashes of blades, and swipes of claws. There was a shattering sound, like thousands windows imploding at once, and the men were all thrown backward off their feet. Alex and Garrett struck columns in the circular chamber, the latter smacking his head hard against the stone and toppling to the dingy slab floor. But Raleigh was beside him, having been knocked backward and landing skillfully on his hands and knees. He glanced up at the pile of fine blue robes and threw a hand out toward them. Though much too far to touch the man physically, streams of golden wisps struck the robes, encircling, and Garrett was lifted magically to his feet. As the beams washed over him, Garrett shook his head vigorously like a wet dog and regained his composure.

There was no time to be lost, Josh had already rushed back to oppose the towering monstrosity and buried his shield deeply into its side. Murmur shuddered and the next moment, he slammed flowing plasmatic blue-green fists to the ground and a cannon blast rang out, as the sleek stone ground cracked outward, darting toward the hunter. Upon impact, Stephen cried out in pain, but it was drowned out by the tremendously loud wobbling noise now coming from the elemental beast, like an overtaxed guitar amplifier ready to explode. The hunter was blasted high into the air, fifty feet or more, the ceiling still high above him. His body went limp as a ragdoll, and the intense magical beams of sound ripped at his flesh.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” called Jason. And, heart racing, he sprinted to occupy the shadow beneath Stephen, as he began to topple back to the slab floor. Jason threw his arms straight up in the air, like a drowning man desperately grasping for a hand. Silver-white clouds of intense magic spewed from his wrists and fingertips upward toward Stephen. They collided with the limp form and encircled it, spinning and pushing down against the air beneath and the unconscious man began to slow. He floated softly back to the stone floor and settled, eyes half open, tongue hanging out, and arms and legs strewn at odd angles to his torso.

“Boom! Levitate, mother fucker!” shouted Jason in triumph. But the moment of celebration had a cost. Murmur again let out of a roar of painful sound, the men all flew backward again, and the vibrations of the wave cut right down into bone.

Standing was at a great effort, as Pat pushed hard upward with his legs, once again moving toward a strategic position behind the massive elemental figure.

“Keep at it, he’s becoming weaker,” mouthed Josh. He probably had shouted the words, but in the tremendous vibrating ambience, a wall of shear noise, the men could hear no words.

Stephen grumbled and regained his footing, now gritting his teeth, as he bore the pain in every muscle fiber of his being. “You. Fucking. Asshole,” he said to himself, as he pulled back his bowstring, arrow now at full nock. He pulled back harder and the string cut into the joints of his fingers. He winced and water poured from his eyes and down his cheeks, as the stinging sensation overtook him. He felt hot blood stream down his wrist from the overtightened string cutting into the bone of his fingers. “Fuck. You!” and he released. The arrow soared upward, as it whistled. He could hear it cut a path through the wall of sound. And, like a sonic boom exploding from overhead, it struck the colossal elemental Murmur right through the face.

The sound knocked him to his knees. Josh and Raleigh, who were directly in front of the beasts body toppled backward into the wall behind them.

The chamber was suddenly darkened. The sound receded into his head. And a great rushing and ringing replaced it, as Alex stood, blinking the bright flashes he had just been exposed to out of his eyes, pressing them into his palms, and sucking in cool air. Half the men crawled, half limped into the center of the chamber, where Murmur had a moment ago stood. It was now a pile of grey dust, like spent coals sadly lingering.

It was very hard to hear anything but ringing and the blood rushing through their heads, but Pat managed to chime in, “just once, Stephen, could you let one of us take the killing blow? Dickhole”. The men all labored a smile and sat, grunting, waiting for the healers to gain enough magical strength to mend wounds and repair ear drums.

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