Ambassadors - A novel based on Warcraft

Chapter 15 - Legion Loyalists

"Ato, down!", a thundering voice roared, and then the tauren fell quickly to the ground.

The orc dodged just in time the massive boulder that was thrown towards his destination. The vrykul had intervened in their duel, in the brief moment the other blademasters had given him an opening.

"We are wasting our time with these lot, let us hurry!", the mogu yelled. "Ato, Tanjörn, enough with this distraction!"

"You speak the truth, Qiung", the tauren responded, leaping backwards with a dexterity unfit for his size.

Soratog maneuvered to pursue, but the mogu smashed the ground and hundreds of earthen spikes emerged in front of the Burning Blade members. The orc spitted on the formation of stones.

"Is this how the mighty guardians of Azeroth fight?", the Warlord taunted, breaking the rocks with powerful blade cuts.

"We don't have time for you, orc", the mogu named Qiung answered. "We have been given a command, and when the Stone Triumvirate has its orders, its members stop at nothing to complete the quest."

"All I hear is more excuses!", Soratog shouted, but his opponents had already departed, leaving a trail of sharp rock spikes behind them. "Cowards!"

He had heard of the Stone Triumvirate, a group of chosen Warriors that communed with the Earth and had the favor of the Stonemother herself. He had never expected two of its members to be a vrykul and a mogu, which meant the Titanguard truly sought the help and alliance of all races native to Azeroth. But Soratog didn't care about that; all he cared at the moment was that an enemy had fled from a battle. How shameful! No orc would ever commit such an atrocious act of cowardice. Maybe it was for the best that the Titanguard hated Soratog's people.

"Chieftain, should we pursue them?", one of his clansmen asked. He was covered in blood and look severely injured, but that didn't stop him from offering his blade.

Yes, it's clear that we aren't weak azerothians, the orc thought with pride.

"No, they were careful enough to avoid us from following them. Let's return to the High Council, they would surely like to know what happened here", the Warlord commanded.

"Chieftain! We captured one of them before he could flee!", a woman yelled in the distance.

She and another Blademaster were carrying a beaten dwarf, who wasn't tied or handcuffed. Clearly, the two Burning Blades had broken him already. Perfect, that would make the interrogation so much easier. When they reached Soratog, they threw the prisoner to his feet, laughing and cheering.

"You have two options, little one", the Warlord said to the dwarf as he bent down next to the poor unfortunate one. "You live long enough to go insane, serving those you swore to destroy until your last day; or, you speak right now and die a quick, painless death."

The prisoner didn't answer, but Soratog waited patiently, sharpening his blade with slow and irritating moves. After a few moments, the dwarf babbled something inaudible.

"What was that, little one? I can't hear you", the Warlord then poked him with the tip of his blade. The remaining clansmen laughed out loudly.

"Chop his fingers!"

"That will make him talk!"

"Slice one of his eyes! He only needs one!"

"The hand! The hand!"

"Silence!", Soratog commanded, not angry, but with a big smile, sharing his comrade's amusement. "You were saying..."

"Kill... me...", the dwarf begged. "If you don't... Wilas will do it..."