Refugees

8/24/05

The howl echoed through the valley waking Hec out of a sound sleep. Bob was crouched low with hackles standing on end.

* That howl is bad. Bad things come. * came Bobs voice in Hecs head.
"Aye, it sounds sick... twisted."
* They move *
"They?! What do you mean they?!
Bob growls. * It was a pack call. *
Hec nods and ponders the ramifications. "If they are dangerous and make their way into this valley, a lot of innocent people could get hurt. Let's see what we can find out, shall we?"

Three hours later the two find themselves in thick brush, and moving slowly to stay quiet. Daylight is still two hours away but the air has already become strangely heavy and dank. Bob is alerted to a noise ahead and Hec instinctively freezes. A whisper from the right draws Hecs attention, and he can barely make out a figure in the dim moonlight. Another whisper draws him closer, cocking his head a bit straining to hear but keeping his musket at the ready.

A flash of pain surges through Hec. He swings wildly at something tugging on his arm.

* SUCCUBUS! SUCCUBUS! *

Hec blinks his eyes in recognition as the shadow bolt screams through the trees and knocks him off his feet. How long has he been under the spell? Not very long if he's still alive.

Bob lunges into the brush as the sounds of high-pitched cackling and the snap of the whip threatens to consume the dwarf again. Hec senses the direction of the prey and fires into the brush. As the roars grow more ferocious he knows that the ambusher is almost down... but something is still wrong.

* Not alone. Something else here *

another shadow bolt screams from the trees and knocks Hec to the ground again.

* WARLOCK! *

"Bloody hell!" Hec yells as he wobbles back to his feet, then "You son-of-an-orc!" and dives for the tree line just in time to avoid the rain of fire. A wailing scream indicating the fall of the succubus tells the dwarf that Bob will soon be on his next target. Hec rolls back to his feet, throws a mark on the warlock and lets loose a volley in his direction. The cloth of the warlock does little to protect him from the rain of arrows and the massive tiger that knocks him to the ground. Fighting his way to his feet he attempts to fend off the tiger, but his doom is already sealed. The scorpid sting drains the last of his life and he slumps back to the ground in a heap. Bob sniffs the body to make sure he's not playing dead like his Dwarf does, but the warlock has expired.

* MORE! * warns Bob. A line of undead crash through the trees. Hecs heart sinks as the crowd continues to grow. 'How are we going to get out of this?' he wonders as the circle closes behind him. * By taking the fight to them! * replies Bob as he lunges at the nearest priest dragging it to the ground. Bob unsheathes his twin axes and dives onto the nearest Tauren with a yell.

The fierce fight wages, but the two are no match for the mob of Horde. Bob lies dead, and Hec breaths shallowly lying in a pool of his own blood and prepares for the death blow that will send him to his family.

When the blow doesn’t come he swivels his head to see the battle raging on. 'But a battle with whom?' he wonders. Flashes of shining plate armor in the moonlight, sounds of steel against steel interspersed with the occasional undead head rolling on the ground offer only confusion.

Hecubus swam in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the battle. The next time he awoke the sun was peaking over the mountains and beginning to warm the valley. Suddenly there was a gnome staring down at him. He looked so familiar… he…

“Aaaahhhhhh! Nittering?!” Hec wheezed.

The gnome frowned down at Hec. “And here I thought this guy was worth saving. He’s too small, toss him back in the lake.” At that Nittering walked off snapping his fingers to music that only he could hear.

A lithe Night Elf drew near. She raised her hands, closed her eyes and began chanting. Magical essences formed at her fingertips, growing in intensity. At its peak she threw her hands into the air and an aura enveloped the dwarfs body restoring much of the health he had lost during the battle. Bones popping back into place, Hec rose to his feet with a grunt. With a bow Hec thanks the elf, and with a bow she returns to healing the rest of the survivors.

For the first time since he fell he became fully aware of his surroundings. The carnage was tremendous. There were undead, taurens, orcs and trolls lying everywhere. Sitting amongst the carnage were dwarves, gnomes, night elves, and humans. Their eyes were still wide and chests heaved from the adrenaline. Some where wiping the gore from their armor while others were applying bandages to wounds.

A stout dwarf lumbered up to Hec. Looking him up and down he broke out in laughter and vigorously pumps Hecs hand with his own. “Any hunter that doesn’t feign death when attacked by a mass of Horde has my respect. And you are only the second hunter so far that has my respect. The name’s Fernmug. Nice fight.”

“Hecubus sir.” nods Hec. “And I believe I owe this group my life!”

“We are the ‘Refugees’, and our Sovereign is Imajicaan.” With that Fernmug turns and lumbers off to continue removing heads from the enemies just to make sure the job was done while Hec resurrects Bob.

* What? *
“I’ll fill you in later.” nods Hec. “Everything is fine, we are with friends.”

Another dwarf walks up to Hec and introduces himself as Imajicaan. Hec bows and introduces himself. “I am Hecubus - hunter and leatherworker. Your mission may not have been to save me, but by your actions I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Your gratitude is thanks enough Hecubus. We are the ‘Refugees’, sworn to protect the Alliance against the foul Horde. From the looks of your tiger I suspect you may be the hunter that our co-leader Nittering was telling us about.”

From the edge of the group came the gnomes voice; “I just told them how I drank your wussy dwarf butt under the table!”

With a grin Imajicaan continues. “Your actions show heart and honor, rules by which we live. Would you be interested in joining our ranks as an initiate to battle the Horde?”

“If the Refugees live with Honor, then I would like to join your ranks.” Nods Hec.

“Meet us tomorrow during full sun at the great forge in IronForge.”

Imajicaan turns to his group. “Mount up. We have more Horde who wish to meet their maker!”

To be continued…