Author note; Hello! Thanks for checking out my story. This one is a little different from my other writings so far. I hope you enjoy! As always, I welcome any and all feedback! I'm not a writer, this is just a for fun hobby. I read all comments and appreciate all feedback, positive and negative, from my readers. Thank you!
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Growing up in Westfall, Thomas spent his early youth as a farmboy. One day in his early teens, his father sent him on a delivery to the renowned Goldshire Inn that changed his life.
He was regailed with the tales of adventurers that lodged at the inn: Stories of blood and glory, ancient evils, forgotten treasures and valiant efforts against The Horde. He eagerly listened to them all but found himself gravitating more towards the warriors. To a simple farmboy like Thomas, nothing sounded more appealing than the path of a warrior.
When be returned home, he begged his father to let him be an adventurer. Being a family of poor farmers, they didn't have the means to make Thomas' dreams come true by themselves. At the age of thirteen, Thomas was sent off to Stormwind with the eventual goal of becoming a warrior adventurer. He joined the Stormwind Guard and spent seven years training before he completed his pledge and was released. During his training, he had matured into a stout specimen. Tall and muscular, with a healthy layer of fat that made him more imposing to the troublemakers he normally dealt with.
Freed from his pledge to the Stormwind Guard, Thomas returned to the Goldshire Inn in search of a quest. Asking around the Inn proved to be a fruitless search until Thomas noticed an old, white-haired night elf reading and smoking a pipe in the corner. Approaching the elf, Thomas took the other seat at his table and spoke.
"Pardon me, sir, I'm a young warrior seeking a quest, could a wizened old fellow like yourself steer me in the direction of adventure?"
The elf laid his book on the table and puffed on his pipe, "Aye," he croaked, "If you seek adventure in a far off land, I know of a place." He paused to take another puff before he leaned forward on the table, whispering so that only Thomas could hear.
"In The Barrens of Kailmdor, deep in the Wailing Caverns, the Druids of the Fang have been draining the life from surrounding areas. I belong to an order of druids called the Disciples of Naralex; we know not the motives of the Druids of the Fang, but we aim to stop them. We have an agent hidden in the caverns you could rendezvous with. If you discover any information or means to stop them, report to him or find more of my order to the north, in Ashenvale. You may find the caverns at the base of a great mountain with an oasis in its shadow."
"Thank you, sir, I'll see what I can do."
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Elwynn Forest and Westfall were filled with their own perils, but The Barrens were enemy territory. Horde caravans and patrols travelled the roads and forced Thomas to travel at night. He was young and hardy, but inexperienced for his journey. By the fourth day he had left Ratchet, his supplies were dwindling and Thomas cursed his I'll-preparedness. The locals in Ratchet had told him the mountain was only a couple days ride away but his indirect path on foot was much slower.
By the fifth day the mountain was near. Though, the arid savannah had taken its toll on Thomas; his food and water were nearly depleted and his medical supplies had all been used up. With dawn near, he set up a makeshift camp and mustered his energy to make it to the mountain after nightfall. He dreamt of swimming in the oasis as he napped through the midday heat.
At dusk, the yipping and cackling of the hecklefang's roused Thomas from his slumber. He broke camp and renewed his steadfast march towards his goal. The setting sun behind the mountain cast a menacing shadow on the young outsider. Within minutes, the burning orb descended well below the craggy summit and night fell early. Fortunately, the mountain remained as easy a target in the darkness as it did during the day; the impressive silhouette of the peak was a monolith of blackness against the twinkling sky, blocking out countless stars.
The goblin locals at Ratchet had told Thomas about the oasis, advising him to take advantage of the bounty it offered. Nowhere else in the central Barrens could provide as much fresh food and clean water. Now, with his journey nearly over, Thomas dreamt of the cool waters to distract his mind from the exhaustion that was overtaking him.
A wall of rock materialized in the dark and Thomas let out a cheer as he reached it, exulting in his accomplishment. He could feel his legs shutting down and pushed onward to find a suitable camp. He scoured the rocky outcrops at the base of the mountain for shelter. A cave, an overhang, anything to hide him from the midday heat and eyes of the horde.
It took about ten minutes of searching, but Thomas eventually found a small cave to serve as a refuge. The cave was small but manageable. He threw his backpack into the crevice and was about to follow when a curious sound from behind grabbed his attention. He spun around with his great hammer at the ready and was greeted by the sight of a scorpid skittering in his direction.
He had seen other scorpids on his journey from afar, but they had left him alone. It seemed that this one had no such intention. The creature was large, about the size of a newborn calf, and glowed in the dark. It boasted a stinger that would have made an impressive spearhead or trophy. The scorpid gave no pause upon Thomas' movement, unloaded by the fact that it's prey was now alert.
Pinned against the mountain and too tired to run, Thomas readied himself to fight the beast. It came at him quickly, aggressively, with pincers snapping and its tail whipping wildly. Thomas dodged and parried the stabbing tail as best he could. But the scorpid was too quick for the tired, young warrior and the stinger found its mark in his leg. The pain was a searing heat as the venom instantly coursed through him. Thomas swelled with rage and let out a battle shout as he parried the next thrust from the creature. He batted its tail aside and brought his greathammer down in a berserker rage that obliterated the scorpid, pulverizing its head into a puddle green fluid and smashed chitin.
Thomas felt his legs go numb as his body failed the internal battle against the venom. He stumbled into the cave and collapsed against the wall, managing a, "Well, shit." before he lost his senses and blacked out.
When he woke, his body was drenched in sweat and ached all over. His limbs were numb and he shook uncontrollably as tremors roiled through his body. Through sheer force of will, Thomas was able to retrieve his final flask of water. The water was hot and stale, and the tremors caused him to spill most of the precious liquid. He gulped down the final mouthful with a grimace. Powerless to fight the venom and too weak to leave the cave for more resources, the young warrior passed out again.
He woke up once more; his fever had gotten worse and he keeled over retching, voiding even more fluids he desperately needed. He laid in the cave, drifting in and out of consciousness awaiting death. He knew it was near when he began to hallucinate. He saw a cow at the mouth of the cave. It stooped low and entered, making its way towards his shriveled body. Thomas said a final prayer as he waited for this envoy of death to claim him. The last thing he saw was its hands glowing green and purple as it reached for him.
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Thomas opened his eyes. It was mostly dark but he knew he was no longer inside the cave. The ground below him was soft and he was covered in a blanket. His body still ached and his limbs were stiff, but it was a remarkable improvement. Once his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he scanned the unfamiliar setting, trying to decipher what happened to him.
There was a ring of wooden supports leading to a central intricately carved totem pole. The supports held up what appeared to be a giant hide tent. Dreamcatchers and bundles of dried herbs hung above a small burning brazier. The embers released tendrils of sweet smelling smoke that danced in the sunbeams piercing through small gaps in the tent.
He craned his neck to examine more of his surroundings and noticed the wall of the tent; it was covered in intricately painted images. The paintings depicted many things: bipedal cows hunting great beasts, doing battle with horse-men, constellations of stars and dancing around blazing infernos in what appeared to be worship. Thomas was fascinated by the artwork. It was clear that great effort had been put into the paintings. His admiration was interrupted by the gentle noise of a tent flap being opened.
"Ahh, it seems you are finally awake, young human. How do you feel?"
Thomas heard the sound of hooves on wood as he turned to face the voice. It was deep, but oddly feminine and heavily accented. His eyes went wide in panic as the owner of the voice loomed over his lying form.
"I'm feeling a little better." Thomas replied, weakly, "Are you a tauren?"
"Yes. My name is Lakota Stargazer. I found you in that cave and rescued you."
"I wouldn't have expected a member of The Horde to be so compassionate, or speak the common tongue. I've heard countless stories about how bloodthirsty The Horde is."
"Hmmm, no doubt these stories were told by equally bloodthirsty members of The Alliance."
"I...umm...yes, no doubt." Thomas bit his tongue and reigned in his callous remarks. A member of The Horde had just saved his life and was being hospitable, "So how do you know the common tongue?"
"I learned from the night elves in my order. I'm a druid, a member of the Disciples of Naralex. I was going to meet a member of my order in the caverns below the mountain when I found you."
Hearing this, Thomas's eyes lit up, "I met an old elf in your order. He sent me on a quest to help cleanse the caverns."
