Good afternoon internet!
Paladin-Bias is pleased to present some original WoW fan fiction (based very loosely on an actual Naxx run). This is part one, with the conclusion to follow some time in the near future when I get around to writing it.
The Dread Citadel
It was cold, the kind of cold that cut right through fur or cloth, to chill the very essence of you. The walls beside us were wet and streaked with stains of various colors, and it appeared to have some kind of slime or mold growing sporadically across the crumbling stonework.
I shifted in my armor restlessly as I waited in the murky gloom of the dread citadel, Naxxramas.
"Where is that fool?" Snapped the human crouching beside me. He was a short, stout man by human standards- however he was still relatively tall compared to my people. Beneath his helm he wore the same sour scowl I had seen for the past two months, since he had replaced our last warrior.
Beneath his heavy plate armor, I could see he wore a vibrantly colored shirt- possibly in an attempt to convey he was of a noble house or that he had some wealth, although since I'd known him, he had never felt obliged to buy a round for any of us after a well-fought battle.
What he lacked in social grace, he made up with brute force and blind, adrenaline-fueled aggression. I can recount numerous battles where his blood-thirst has been a boon to our plight.
"I'm right here you dog." Snarled a voice from the shadows. From the darkness, a druid crept towards us; shape shifted to resemble a ferocious beast. I watched a tendril of drool dangle precariously from his jaw, before dropping unceremoniously to the damp floor.
The warrior grumbled an inaudible reply, assuming his subservient role to the obvious leader of our group.
"Aye, and what is it? What's at the end 'a the tunnel?" I called out to the druid, cutting through the tension, the priest a few yards away sighed in relief and returned to pouring over a scroll he was attempting to decipher.
"The tunnel is filled with a noxious slime, it stretches a few yards before opening up into a massive room." The druid replied with a low growl, "It's Gluth." He added with a smirk, and a snap of his jaw.
The faces around me went pale, their expressions immediately changed to a mixture of concern and doubt.
After a few moments our hunter, a sly night elf who was as quick with his wit as he was with his bow and quiver, broke the silence, "The foul plague-dog of Naxxramas- his jaw is the infected maw of the scourge war machine." At this he laughed, "HA, nothing Prometheus and I can't handle!" He said as he thoughtfully pat his pet, a harmless looking dog that was sleeping with his head in the hunter's lap.
To this, the usually reserved priest replied, "Yes. The hunter speaks the truth, the Light will aid us in this holy task."
"Ha, that idyllic skirt-wearer wouldn't know the Light if Uther's mace whacked 'im across 'is ruddy head" I thought to myself as I shifted my mace from its resting place on my left shoulder to my right. "The true path to the Light is through glorious battle."
"We need a plan." Said the squat gnome mage bluntly, peering from behind the priest.
The mage was unusually terse for a gnome, and he didn't share the love for engineering and technology beloved by his brethren. Instead he chose to live the life of a nomadic mystic, focusing on always growing his knowledge of the arcane, and caring for nothing else.
Make no mistake, his interest in our companionship was nothing more than an agreement made out of practicality- the best way for him to practice his ever growing repertoire of new, more powerful spells was to get some real battle experience- and we were just useful enough for him to stick around.
Through all of this our resident shaman remained eerily silent. He sat alone, a few yards away meditating. Surrounded by his spiritual totems, he prayed to the elements for guidance.
I spit on the ground, muttering under my breath, "Filthy savage." The shaman, shot a quick glance in my direction, but I didn't care. Praying to dirt, snow and whatever other pagan things they believe was an affront to the Light.
The druid looked behind him in the shadows, "Go scout the tunnel, make sure there aren't any traps." He snapped to the empty shadows.
"Yeah? Sure, send me to do the work while you scum sit here. Anything you ask my master." A voice replied smugly. A shadowy figure darted by, our resident rogue. He was a dwarf like myself, but that was where our similarities ended. He was rude, sneaky, mischievous, and deceitful- and I was fairly certain he had pilfered from my coin purse on more than one occasion. I often wondered why we kept him around.
To be continued…