A Simple Scouting Mission
((This is a non-canon story written a while ago. It was meant to go up as canon but certain circumstances led to its delay and by the time it was finished it would no longer fit with the current story we had already RPed))
Light tore through the loosely swaying door flap. The scentof leather saturated the air. Orcish shouts and grunts echo beyond the tent walls. Slowly the streak of sunlight kept toward a pandaren… or rather a nude pandaren.
Boomer released a soft moan as his head stirred. When the light reached his face he went to shield his blood shot eyes… but he could not lift his hand. “Wha-?” He whispered to himself as he turned his pounding head. About his wrists coiled thick ropes, from his bindings more rope secured him to a thick wood post.
The direct sunlight in his eyes made everything inside this otherwise dark room difficult to see. To his left he could barely make out the shape of a dwarf, also nude. To his right slumped a human in the same condition. “Wh-where am I?” Boomer meant to speak louder, but his mouth was so dry his voice only rasped. He closed his eyes tight to both block the sunlight and try to remember.
Captain Taelyren’s purple hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail. His sharp, glowing eyes gazed upon Boomer in disgust. Beneath the pandaren’s goggles, amusement could have been seen his eyes.
“I need you on a mission. Kaerlic and Brondir will be joining you, but they have already been briefed.” Boomer could hear the elf’s strain to maintain a tone of respect.
“A mission with the Capt’n? Just like old times!”
“I was under the impression that you have only known Kaerlic Ironshield for a few months.” Tael lifted his eyebrow, immediately regretting even asking the pandaren oaf for more information than was necessary.
“Ah, when you got two kindred souls like me and the capt’n, it don’t matter how long you’ve known each other.” Boomer’s hand slid beneath his cloak in search for something hanging by his belt just out of view next to a series of grenades. His hand revealed a small metal box. It opened with ease to reveal several fine cigars tightly packed inside. He removed one while his other hand retrieved a simple brass lighter from his right pocket.
The captain looked on with annoyance as the air about his face quickly filled with a fowl smelling cigar smoke.
“Subtlety is the key to this mission. You are to track a small group of orcs and report back. You are to kill if and ONLY if a clear tactical advantage to the watch is presented.”
Boomer puffed at his cigar “Wouldn’t it just be easier to blow their whole encampment?”
The night elf sighed, pressing his palm to his face, “I want reports on their movements in case they are involved in the disappearance of the caravans. I would also like to avoid scarring the land anymore than it already has been.”
“Where in the blazes are we lads?” The dwarfs question snapped Boomer back to the present.
“I don’t know but m’ head is fokin’ killin’ me.” Kaerlic Ironshield mumbled to himself.
“Ack! Me jibblets! Why are we neked?”
Boomer swirled his tongue in his mouth in a desperate search for moisture. He gathered just enough to croak, “Wakin’ up naked and tied to a post after a night of drinkin’ is just another Tuesday for me.”
Kaerlic was the first to answer “Too bad it’s Saturday…”
“Any o’ yeh remember wha’ happened last night?” Asked their dwarven companion.
Boomer pressed a finger to a small button on the side of his goggles, as he peaked from behind a tree, their bluish glow faded. He became as dark as the forest around him. Through his goggles he could see a closer image of seven orcs ahead.
Beside him Brondir peered through the scope of his rifle, pondering the movements of their targets.
Kaerlic paced noiselessly about the perimeter, crossbow held at the ready for any intruder.
The dwarf’s nose sniffed the air as the breeze blows from the orc’s camp to theirs. “They’re eatin’… Not cookin’ too well either…” he whispered so that only his two companions could hear. “They’re passin’ around… och… what ever they’re drinkin’ it smells terrible!”
“Speakin’ o drinkin’” Boomer slid a rough tin flask from a holster at his hip without even looking down. He flips the cap back with his thumb before taking a swig and closing again. Without a thought he tossed it to Kaerlic who caught and mimicked the pandaren.
When Brondir’s turn came he took a deep gulp and scowled, “I’ve ‘ad stronger from a dwarf lass’ teats!”
Boomer took back his flask and returned it to its holster. “You’re welcome to share your own.” With a soft clank Brondir shoved a simple canteen into the pandaren’s chest. Everyone halted for a moment, not daring to move after the sound.
After a moment Boomer’s furred hand twisted off the cap and sniffed. The invisible fire that raged within in the forest that was his nostril hairs revealed all he needed to know. He threw back the canteen and took two large gulps. His whole body shuddered as horrid tasting gasoline like liquid flowed down his throat.
“Ain’t you supposed to be keepin’ water rations in that?” The pandaren chuckled as he passed the canteen to Kaerlic.
“Aye, if yeh want to be a priss about it!” Brondir accepted the canteen as Kaerlic handed it back to him. The silent pirate produced a water skin from his pack with a devilish grin.
Each gulp moved time forward a little bit faster. Their bodies felt warmer as the orcs they watched drifted off to sleep. Steadily their whispers grew louder with bravery. It did not take long for their senses to become so dulled that they failed to notice the wind had changed directions…
As the exposed Boomer laid his head back against the post that bound them together, he croaked “We got separated, orcs found us and we scattered.”
“So you’re telling me we’re being held by bloody orcs?!” Kaerlic inquired.
“Aye… smells like orcs” Brondir frowned.
“Smells like three naked—“
“Wot happened to you lot after they stormed in?” The gilnean interrupted.
Boomer was the first to answer. “I er… I ran for the trees, hopin’ to draw as many away as I could. I killed quite a few but…
The rustling stomp of a fat pandaren sprinting for his drunken life announced Boomer’s flight. The yells of enraged orcs followed by the thwak of their weapons indiscriminately striking trees followed closely behind. The hunter’s mail clad foot splashed into a shallow stream as he made his way into a clearing.
From behind his goggles he scanned the tree line he had just run from. In his inebriated stupor he nearly stumbled backwards. His enemies gained on him faster than he could run. There was only one other option…
When the four red skinned orcs burst from the tree line most halted, except for one. The youngest of the group did not notice his comrades stop before click. A spray of frost launched from the trap at his feet, he was quickly encased. Only three remained.
Boomer craned his ears from behind a tree, listening for words. His knowledge in the orcish language was limited, but he was able to gather some. “The fat one is choosing to stand and fight from the shadows.”
The pandaren pressed a finger to his goggles and the blue light dimmed once more. He moved his claw along the massive barrel of his gun until it came upon a small catch. A panel opened to reveal a complex jumble of gears and bullets. There were several different types of ammunition within, each type grouped together with others of its kind. He closed the panel and turned the small dial on the side.
In one swift motion he leaned from behind his tree, brought up his gun, and fired. There was no BANG, only a soft thunk.. The projectile sored across the clearing into another tree… where it fell apart… very noisily.
All orcs turned to look where it had struck. Their leader held up a thick red finger to signal for silence. All crept toward the sound. Click! This explosion sent the orcs to the dirt.
Boomer turned the dial on his weapon, with a soft click he brought it up to take aim. Two tiny blue pinpricks of light revealed his earpieces. As his finger tugged on the trigger of his gun those little blue lights turned red, and Boomer could hear nothing. He could still see though, a rapid flurry of projectiles burst forth. Each orc became littered with small bullet holes.
The hunter’s hand turned the dial to a new setting and pulled the trigger once more. This time a single larger bullet jetted toward it’s target. The shrapnel explosion struck the first orc, and pelted the others.
As Boomer watched their bodies fall to the earth, he dropped his hand that had been supporting the barrel. With a thud the end of his gun met the dirt as the drunken panda swayed in place. “Yeah! Ya weren’t expectin’ that one were ya?! Ain’t so tough now!” He shouted the corpses. A deep and rumbling belch soon followed a moment of silence.
“Guess I better… better be findin’ the capt’n and Bron… yup…” He swayed in place for another moment as he wondered why the ground wouldn’t hold still. He turned to walk away, when his vision caught up to his eyes he saw them… a small platoon of orcs.
One stepped forward with a grin. “You are strong for one so fat.” Before Boomer could react the orc raised his plated hand and brought it down on Boomer’s head.
“Ow! Shit that hurts!” Blood trickled down the pandaren’s head. The orc looked shocked at the fact that he had failed to knock out this thick skulled enemy with a single strike. As the orc drew back for a second strike, Boomer hefted his rifle up. He pressed it into the shin of the orc before squeezing the trigger.
The orcs standing behind shielded themselves from the spray while their now headless comrade flopped to the dirt. Boomer raised his weapon into the air “Yeah! Who else wants some of this?!” and with a thud the pandaren went forward and met the dirt as he passed out… and not from the knock on the head either…
“Thought ya said yeh could hold yer liquor!” Brondir taunted.
“I’d like to hear you top that story!” Boomer retorted.
Footsteps from outside silenced all three. They each dropped their heads to resume an unconscious appearance. None saw who had peaked in, but they heard the orcish voice muttering indiscernible words.
When the footsteps faded the three looked up again.
“Aye, I got a tale fer ya.” The dwarf’s voice whispered.
The vast darkness became pierced by the glow of several torches. Thick orcish tongues spoke amongst the group half a dozen brown and red warriors. “Who do you think they were?”
“Probably from that rabble based at Anchorites Sojourn.”
Brondir rested against a tree, which separated him from view of his pursuers. He strained to understand what his enemies spoke.
“We round them up and maybe we strap ‘em to the first iron stars we shoot at them tomorrow.”
“Heheh…. Yeah, naked!” All of the orcs roared in a collective laugh.
The dwarf could not tell who was speaking; he only saw darkness before him. All these orcs all sound alike. He thought to himself.
“I say we beat them and send the bruised corpses back to their commander.”
“Heheh… Yeah, naked!” The statement was followed by an awkward pause. No orc laughed this time.
“I second the beating, but we should see what they know first. Dip them in boiling tar inch by inch until they spill all their secrets.”
“Gor’duk if you say naked one more time I’ll leave you out here naked of your head.”
The one called “Gor’duk” said nothing in response. Bron could hear all orcs shift in caution as a rustling came from the treeline. The voice that spoke revealed it was only another orc that approached. “The human and the fat one have both been captured. Where is the short one?”
Well at least I’m not the fat one. The dwarf mused in his thoughts.
“We’re still searching, we will find him.”
“If he makes it back to warn his squadron of our attack plans it will be your head! For all we know they have the location of our weapons and everything!”
These words struck Brondir hard. He thought of how easily he could quietly wait for the orcs to give up, send a message to Kaleina and Taelyren. Or I could get m’self captured and find Boomer and Kaerlic…. I think I’ll get m’self captured instead.
With that he rose and stumbled into the clearing. The orcs watched in awe as their prey walked right to them. “Och! A surprise party? Ya remembered m’birthday!”
In less than a second the dwarf was squashed beneath a dog pile of red skin and black armor.
“Why were ya bloody snoozin’ then?!” Whispered Kaerlic.
The dwarf scowled but could not turn to face his comrade. “I got tired listenin’ to you lot snorin’ all night. How’d you get captured anyways?”
The former captain tilted his head back with a soft smile.
The platoon of orcs trampled through the forest. Each footstep was far less than stealthy. They held blazing torches as they searched for the three they had ambushed.
Kaerlic watched from a high tree branch as the one who must have been the leader spoke up. “Your group head north after the fat one.” A large group broke away and left for the north. “You head east after the short one, and your group will return to your usual patrol!”
The human watched as the numbers slowly whittled themselves down.
“The pink skin can’t be too far, we’ll gut him if he resists, otherwise we want him alive. We need to know what he knows!”
Kaerlic thought to himself, gathering his thoughts for the best way out of this situation. He knew in an instant what had to be done.
“Cacawww…. caCAAAAAAW.” Every orc raised their torches and turned to see a human perched in a tree cawing into the night.
“Knock him out of that tree!” The leader commanded.
“Wait!” The human exclaimed. Amazingly the two orcs who had stepped forward stopped to look stupidly at one another.
“What are you waiting for? I said knock him out of the tre-ACK!” A flutter of blue and red came down upon the commander’s face. A brightly colored semi-large parrot pecked and clawed at the orc’s face.
“Tha’s my bird tha’ is!” Kaerlic admired the handy work of Grayson.
The orc lunched his fist outward, missing the bird entirely, but it got the hint and flew off.
“Guess I should’a used that chance ta run.” The human realized aloud.
“Too late now!” the orcish laugh echoed through the trees.
“Is not.” With that his legs sprang into action… the other way. He lunged through branches and leaves, wishing he were not weighed down by the chainmail that covered him. His hand reached for a hand grenade he kept with him. His finger yanked the pin seconds before he casually tossed it behind him.
The explosion overshadowed the single orcish scream coming from Kaerlic’s wake. That should lose ‘em. Now I jus’ go find Boomer n’ Bron and we’ll be out’a here in no time. The man thought to himself as he sprinted from the tree line straight into the orc’s main encampment.
Brondir was the first to break the silence, “Well lads, how’re we getting’ out o this one?” He craned his head around to see his allies. Kaerlic remained silent. His same bored expression remained focused on the dwarf’s canteen, which inexplicably hung by one of the many meat hooks on the tent ceiling, over his head.
Their pandaren ally pondered for a moment, his face twisted and contorted, as though he couldn’t quite remove that last bit of dinner from last night. His mouth opened to reveal his slightly yellowed array of teeth. His tongue searched wantingly between his upper right gum and teeth. Finally a small metal pin slid from his mouth. Boomer’s teeth bit down on the metal to hold it in place, “I got a lock pick.” His voice slightly muffled through his teeth.
“Which would be bloody brilliant if there wos a lock to pick on these ropes.” Kaerlic finally rasped.
“Alright, what’s yer plan Capt’n?” Boomer asked in mild annoyance.
The gilnean sighed, his eyes closed, vainly hoping to silence the pounding in his head. “I’m experiencin’ ten years of hangover all at once, I can’t think.”
“Nae. Me head is a blacksmiths anvil right now.”
Boomer flicked with his tongue at the pin still held in his teeth. He searched the room through dehydrated eyes. They looked to the canteen his captain longed for, then to a rough iron axe propped against the tent wall, well out of reach. His eyes closed for a moment in contemplation. “The capt’n just needs a little creative inspiration.” With a deep breath and sudden blow, the pin shot from Boomer’s mouth to the axe head. It ricocheted with a dull ping.
A steady stream of that biting dog’s hair flowed the canteen where the pin stuck. The captain lapped desperately at the stream. After the first few drops the he did not dare let another fall to the ground. The stream stopped quickly as the contents were already mostly consumed the night before. The fire that ignited in Kaerlic’s eyes burned in excitement as he searched the room. “Ya har! I got it!”
“What’cha got capt’n?” Boomer implored in pained excitement.
“These orcs think they’re smart, but they made one mistake when they tied up the great captain Kaerlic Ironshield!” His strong gilnean accent spoke loudly, but none of the orcs outside could hear over the sound of their own banging and clanging.
“So what’s the plan lad? How’re we getting’ outa here?” Brondir wriggled in frustration.
“Everyone get ready, we’re going to try and stand at the same time, work our way up this post.” Kaerlic informed his companions. All three struggled at first, but they were able to get their feet flat on the ground.
“On three… one… three” They all pushed together. Slowly their shapes rose, the ropes that bound them to the post rose with them. The resistance of rope against rough wood hindered the movement, but up they went. After what felt an eternity, all three were standing.
“Alright capt’n now wut?” The pandaren begged in excitement.
“Here is where my genius comes in.” Kaerlic grinned
“Stop keepin’ me in suspense!” Brondir whispered in rage.
With a chuckle Kaerlic spoke, “Everyone lean back into each other.”
They followed their command, and to their shock, there was no post, and the rope fell to the ground. Boomer turned, he looked down upon the post that they had been bound to. It was barely higher than Bron’s waste.
All three walked slowly over to the axe, their wrists still bound by separate ropes behind their backs. A series awkward dances later, each of them had rubbed against the axe head to cut their final bindings. There they stood naked for a moment using folded hands to cover their manhood.
“We drink lads!” The dwarf had found piled on a table, barely out of view, their belongings, sans weaponry. On top of the pile was Boomer’s flask, and Kaerlic’s water skin. They threw back all that was left, including a small swallow that hadn’t leaked from the canteen.
Within minutes the three were adequately clothed, armored, and buzzed. Any weapons had been taken, not even the knife Boomer kept hidden in his boots remained. His prized goggles were also missing.
Kaerlic adjusted his belt and uttered under his breath “Now to sneak out.”
Boomer and Brondir both spoke in a whisper over each other “Not yet!”
“You think I’m gonna leave without everythin’? I still needs my gun, lucky grenade, and spectacles.” Boomer insisted.
“And this is one dwarf who’d rather die than leave without his trusty rifle!” Brondir poked a thumb into his chest.
Kaerlic sighed, rolling his eyes, “We don’t even know where to start lookin’.”
The flap of leather alerted them to someone else entering the tent. A dwarf, human, and pandaren stared down an orc, just as shocked and unprepared to see them. Slung over his shoulder was the familiar weapon favored by Brondir.
The orc was the first to break the stillness. He slung the rifle up and aimed for Kaerlic’s head, but he fumbled with it. Brondir seized the barrel by the hand and with a single twist the orc was disarmed. “Here let me show ya how tae use it!”
“Bron no!” Kaerlic’s warning was drowned by the sound of gunfire. The orc fell in a heap.
“We gotta move!” Boomer pulled open the tent flap as he spoke. Kaerlic grabbed the axe on his way out. As they burst through the exit, the grinning faces of at least thirty red-faced orcs greeted them. Guns, bows, and crossbows pointed at them. Others were armed with heavy axes and hammers.
Kaerlic spotted his crossbow being held by an orc to the right, while Boomer discovered his large beast of a weapon aimed straight for him. The meanest looking and largest of the orcs held the gun high. Hanging from that orc’s belt was a leather strap with five of the pandaren’s own handmade grenades clipped to it. “I’m disappointed. I was hoping you would not only escape sooner, but also make it a little more challenging to find you.”
Bron whipped his gun to face the leader, but he only cackled “Try it. I’ll have tubs here dead with me.”
Boomer looked to Kaerlic, “I think he’s callin’ you fat capt’n.”
“Oi! I’m tryin’ to lose it, you don’t have to be an arse about it!” Kaerlic responded.
“Silence! Go ahead little man, try shooting and see what happens, or you can surrender and I might think about killing you quickly.” The orc grinned, knowing he had Brondir scared in his—
“Suit yerself.” Bron pulled the trigger on his rifle. The projectile streamed from the end of his weapon, but it was not a bullet. A bright and dazzling firework erupted inches from his target’s face. Every orc had to shield their eyes from the dazzling display.
Boomer and Kaerlic sprinted into action. The axe the captain had retrieved found itself very quickly embedded into the skull of the orc that dared to manhandle the finely made gilnean crossbow. Bron unleashed a hail of cover fire while the gilnean filled nearby orcs with crossbow bolts.
Boomer managed to deliver a quick punch to the leader’s nose, breaking it and forcing him to loosen his grip on the gun. The pandaren’s hands turned the dial and in three precise shots, the orcs closest fell. With a single swipe Boomer was able to retrieve the lucky grenade one of the now dead orcs was preparing to remove the pin from. He then reached for the grenade belt.
“I don’t think so!” The armor clad hands latched to Boomer’s wrist before he could fully remove the explosives. His other hand grabbed the barrel of the rifle that was being brought around. The sizzle of burning flesh on a hot gun did not seem to bother the red faced leader. “Struggle all you like, you and your friends will never make it out of here… and even if you do, we’ll have your little clan wiped out before you can get back to them.”
Boomer’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Your little rabble, the one with the purple hair, the old fat one with the hat, the random squabbling of humans, the female bitch that leads all of you. We have something special planned just for them.” The orc leaned in closer to savor the fear, “We already have an entire platoon moving in to attack.”
The orc leader slammed his forehead into Boomer’s face. The pandaren managed to keep his hold on the gun, but he lost the grenade belt. “Run along like the cowards you are, I enjoy a good spo—“
“You heard him! Get the hell out here!” Boomer shouted. All three turned and bolted for the edge of the camp.
The leader roared in laughter “See how they run!” his great hand removed a grenade from the belt and held it high to throw. His orcish features turned to fear as he looked at the explosive in his hand, panicked eyes darted to the belt.
As the three companions reached the edge of the camp, Boomer laughed as he held five grenade pins in his hand. BOOOOOOOOOOOM. “The tank!” Brondir shouted. Kaerlic and Boomer turned to follow him on board the great mounted cannon that stood thrice their height.
Kaerlic turned to the dwarf, “You know how to drive this thing?”
Brondir shrugged, “Not a clue, just push things until it does stuff!” All three proceeded to pull levers, twist nobs, and push buttons. Nothing happened. “Come on yeh piece o’—“ the machine rumbled to life.
There was little time to react as each clung to the metal. The vehicle had charged forward with little warning, and even littler control.
Three cannons wheeled up, hidden by the trees. Through a telescope, the orc standing in front could see a few night elves, draenei, humans, and even an old pandaren fighting off the first attack force. As he lowered the spyglass to reveal a deeply scared and heavily tusked face, he chuckled. “Fire on my signal, they will retreat as soon as the horn is sounded and we shall wipe these outsiders.” His voice was rough and scratchy.
A moment’s pause… The leader raised a large and hollowed clefthoof horn and emptied his lungs. The foreboding note echoed across all of Talador. The first cannon came to life, followed by the other two.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” CRASH! Kaerlic, Brondir, and Boomer flew off the tank as it collided with the first canon. The impact turned the massive weapon to the right, too late to stop its fire. BOOM! The ball of flaming iron rammed into the second cannon. Its explosion shattered the third.
The lead orc fell to the ground as one of Kaerlic’s bolts pierced his chest. “Excellent steering Bron!”
“I dinae how to steer that blasted thing! We just got lucky.” Brondir laughed.
“Yes well nice work regardless…” The gilnean gentleman smiled.
“Let me get this straight.” Taelyren’s voice shuttered in anger. The sun had traveled halfway across the sky by now. The piles of orc bodies around them gave away the victory. “Rather than scout these orcs from afar… you want me to believe that you disobeyed my orders to not engage, infiltrated the enemy compound, retrieved information on the attack, assassinated their leader and then… in your own words… ‘expertly’ disabled the enemy weapons thus saving the day?”
All three hunters sat before the night elf, puffing heavily on their cigars. Kaerlic was the first to speak up, “Sounds about right.”
“And you Boomer… are demanding compensation for a pair of goggles lost in the line of duty?” Tael waved the paperwork in the pandaren’s face.
“Just the parts to make a new pair.” Boomer smirked.
“It’s only the least you can do captain. The lad’s explosives saved the day!” Brondir piped up to his friend’s defense.
“Yes… I read the report on his ‘expertise in explosives…’ In fact I believe the words expert, expertly, and expertise are used eighteen times in this report.”
“Ninteen, don’t forget the back.” Boomer chimed in.
Tael flipped the page over to the back. There he read the scribble of words that had been added last minute. “Upon successfully disabling the cannons of the iron horde we were able to finish off the remaining orcs using our expert skills as marksmen…” The elf had to smack his palm to his face. “Very well Boomer, I will requisition the materials you need as a reward for your ‘expert’ services… I ask that you refrain from making too many more things to blow up.” Taeleryn attempted to rub the weariness from his eyes.
“Aww Tael, everything I make is rigged to blow, even my gear.” Boomer chuckled as the night elf backed away from the explosive ridden panda.
At the enemy compound, the very few orcs that remained gathered the bodies of their comrades. Most died from shrapnel, their leader was incinerated as he was holding the grenades. One of the orcs retrieved a pair of steel goggles with glowing blue lenses from the pile. He studied them carefully before stretching the band and lowering them over his eyes.
He was amazed at the things he could see. The heat from every orcs bodies, the ground, the fires, the food, the weapons. His finger pressed a button on the side and the image expanded. He was looking at orcs standing at least fifty feet away and seeing them as though they were right here. He excitedly pressed another button and the image changed to brilliant colors he could barely even understand.
“Huh?” The orc looked around for the beeping source, unaware of the blinking red light from one of the buttons on the goggles.
Beep… beep. Beep beepbeepbeepbeepbeep…
