World of Warcraft®

Author's Note: It has been so long since my pen touched the public page that I fear this may be many readers' first encounter with my prose.

Let it stand on its own merits, then -- those that find it to their liking may easily enough acquire copies of my earlier work in verse. The AAMS keeps a collected works in their files, and I believe one may be found at Da Doctas School of Medicine as well. Individual works, of course, scatter libraries and booksellers throughout the world.

It is my hope that this telling of the Horde's earliest days will be of some relevance to modern readers. I leave the interpretation of it up to you, and am of course a loyal correspondent to anyone who wishes to write me personally regarding this or any other work.

Signed,

Greatmother Arjah

The Tragic History of Blackhand the Destroyer,

or,

The Beginning of the Horde

A play in plain verse by the troll Arjah

Prologue: Two GUARDS outside an altar of the Shadow Council

1st GUARD: Our three-day watch upon this barren ground
Speaks little good for thee and I, my friend.
Our masters are not pleased.

2nd GUARD: How should they be?
Three days of men have passed our watchstand here,
And yet from that totality of flesh
Comes none deemed fit to lead the Horde in full
By those who know its inner workings best.
And yet they will not lead themselves - I mark,
This Shadow Council is a cagey lot.

1st GUARD: But stay - who comes?

Enter BLACKHAND the Destroyer and Orgrim DOOMHAMMER

BLACKHAND: One who would pass your watch
As friend to you and all who live within.
A pretty month have I been entertained
By some ambassadors, made known to me
As servants of your masters, e'en as you.
They bid me hence, their feasting to repay
With audience in yonder citadel.
Make known my name to them, and say them too
That Blackhand has their meanest servants loved
As they themselves. That's for thy purses both.

2nd GUARD: Your name is known as one to show within,
And his that with you comes, be he the man
That Orgrim Doomhammer is often called.

DOOMHAMMER: That man am I. To thy masters show us.

1st GUARD: To those beyond we then remand thy care. Exit BLACKHAND and DOOMHAMMER
His generosity bespeaks him well.

2nd GUARD: Ferocity to match is spoken of
Where Blackhand's name is heard. But fear him not!
If chosen, he then to our masters bends;
If wanting found, then like the others dies. Exit all

Act the First: Within the altar of the Shadow Council

Enter BLACKHAND and DOOMHAMMER.

BLACKHAND: Here, then, shall be the place - a fitting ground,
Much stained with sacrifice and gory death
Of those we've overthrown.

DOOMHAMMER: And that of friends,
Our comrades 'gainst these passing draenei foes,
Now cattle made and bled for Gul'dan's sport.
I like this warlock not.

BLACKHAND: What dost thou like,
My young, unsmiling friend? Great honor's thine,
When I as Warchief name thee to my side,
Above all others save myself to stand.
If some have died to make a road for us
Upon their bleached bones, 'tis always thus -
No man was ever crowned with unstained hands.

DOOMHAMMER: And yet, I wish I knew their names, who fell,
Or something of them save that Gul'dan
And these his councilors decreed their deaths.
I will a thousand corpses plant myself
If called upon, but only in the heat!
These sacrifices stink of sorcery,
Or politics, the worser of the two.
Would you and I had killed these men ourselves!

BLACKHAND: And so we have, by being worthier
Of those same honors which they courted here.
But see - they come, these Shadow Councilors -
Stand thou apart, and patience be thy guide. Exit

DOOMHAMMER: He courteth glory like a tavern wench
Where he would better do to seek a bride.
Hot lust was always Blackhand's way! I'll wait,
And follow, as he bids me, patiently
Until I can from greater strength assail
This Shadow Council and its preening king.
When glory tires of Blackhand and his ilk,
I'll take her for myself in sterner hand,
Less loving, but the better loved for that.

Enter BLACKHAND

BLACKHAND: I say you, cousin Doomhammer, heardst me?
The confirmation’s made, and we with it!
Gul'dan and all his warlocks now attend
To name this antler'd helm the Warchief's crown.
A mighty dram of blood we'll drink, from out
Some demon's veins by hellish magics drawn
To consecrate this day and all its deeds.

DOOMHAMMER: What - sayst thou "conescrate," not "desecrate"?
A pretty honor Gul'dan does you here!
What need we with such dev'lish sorceries?

BLACKHAND: Peace, man! 'Tis ritual, not sorcery,
Some pageantry these warlocks to appease.
You know their love of hoods and cloaks and staves,
Of casting bones and reading from the stars
Great secrets that to any man might be
As plainly known by watching of the times.
All harmless trappings, these, and little price
Their vanity to sport along tonight
With quaffing from some bloodied chalice bowl,
If sporting add a Warchief to my name.
Their salty broth endure tonight with me,
And masters of the Horde anon we'll be.
But see - he comes.

Enter GUL'DAN the Warlock and his NECROLYTES

GUL'DAN: Good cousins! Welcome be,
Great Doomhammer and greater Blackhand still!
Would all who came before our Council here
But half so worthy as this pair have been.
Then might the thirsty ground have drunk less deep
Of orcish blood, and more of that our foes'.
These sacrifices give me little joy -
And yet, the shaman lent me of your clan,
Good cousin Blackhand, have in some small part
Been profited, and spiritually improved,
By spilling of these would-be Warchiefs' blood.
Their energies as warlocks now begin -
But peace! This gabble is but shop-day talk,
Mere merchant's chatter, idle; out of place
On this auspicious day. My tongue runs on,
Where it should cry but "feast!" and so begin
Our reveling. Fine dancers have we chose
From every tribe with maidens fit to name.
These shall we call to sport for thee tonight,
And more to pour thy wine and feed thee meat.
Strange women, too, from out this conquered race,
These draenei, horned and hooved as cattle are,
Have we by mystic arts lent grace and form
As may beguiling to our Warchief seem.
On these and other wonders shall we gaze
When our brief business here concluded is,
And chieftains of the tribes have ta'en their sip
Of burning demon's blood, their strength to pledge
And might to prove to noble Blackhand's health!
Thou too may by his leave a measure take,
Good cousin Doomhammer, who rumor names
All but the Blackhand's equal in his Horde.
Is't so? And wilt a dram with us then take
In toasting of thy patron and his chiefs?

DOOMHAMMER: Too great an honor names thou to me there,
Dread master of the necromantic arts.
In battle some small measure have I proved,
I think, my love for Blackhand on his foes,
And yet poor friendship would it be tonight
To join in this, and rob authority
From every chief who his deserved cup
Was forced to share with humble Doomhammer.
Thy honors keep, my well-deserving friend!
I'll here a while upon the revels wait,
And to the chieftains leave their greater fate. Exit

GUL'DAN: A modest youth, or modest-seeming else.
What thinkest thou of this he says, Blackhand?

BLACKHAND: E'en as thou just hast said: a modest man,
Though youth no more, by battle's bloody count.
Good service hath he done me on the field,
And never more than that his due hath asked.
Mistrust my arm before mistrusting he!

GUL'DAN: As thou commands, my Warchief, let it be. Exit BLACKHAND
And yet I trust a smiling servant not,
Nor little like a humble conqueror.
Ambition is for life: none stops before.
This honor he defers because he sees
Some greater spoil in abstaining here
Than being counted as a chieftain's kin -
Humility alone declines this not.
Were he less able in the field, or less
By lusty Blackhand for his prowess loved,
This night would see the end of Doomhammer.
Yet now the time is past when orc and orc
Should seed the barren soil with their blood.
I mean another world for Blackhand's Horde,
And with him this young statesman too must ride.
All force we bend on winning Azeroth,
This boy, the Blackhand's sons, and others too,
All hands that to a weapon fixed may be
The conquest of that world to win for me!
Come, necrolytes, away - we'll briefly go
And bloody toast our latest Warchief give.
For appetite was Blackhand chosen here,
And appetite shall swell a thousand fold
When gorged on the potent demon's blood.
To Azeroth he'll lead us merrily,
And bleed to win that which makes Gul'dan great. Exit all

Act the Second: A plain near Stormwind. BLACKHAND and his sons REND and MAIM upon it

BLACKHAND: Perdition take this cursed sorcerer!
How long hath Gul'dan lain abed while we,
Upon advising of his councilors,
Have struggled with this human cavalry?
As good as our own riders they, with beasts
In full as fearsome, though they eat but grass.
Rough, armored muscle, mount and mounted both,
And yet the warlock will not lend his aid?
Too little of this world have we yet gained
To spend our men as freely as we do!
Nay - speak not on't, beloved Rend and Maim.
Fine riders art thou both, as was the dam
That gave thee both to me, yet for her love,
I will not spend thee in another charge!
These open hills and plains are death to us
So long as Stormwind fields her armored knights.
We'll Orgrim's counsel take, and to the woods,
There with our forces ambushes to set
And trap ourselves what humans as we can.

REND: Beloved father, trust not his advice!
This Doomhammer thinks only of himself,
And would to those who more deserve deny
The honor of the charge, and victory!

MAIM: I with my brother stand, and counsel thee
All Orgrim's stratagems to disregard.
The man is craven, skulking in the woods,
With natives of this world said to speak
Though all our orders be for massacre.
The Council will fall heavily upon't.

BLACKHAND: Speak not of Gul'dan and his councilors!
Thou art a pretty brace of riders now,
But Orgrim hath a span of years on thee,
And not a one but filled with bloody deeds.
In him I trust more than these sorcerers
When battle's to be met. We'll to the woods,
And make our sorties there, until such time
As Gul'dan and his warlocks seek to aid
This cursed business that they've put us to.
But stay - who comes upon us now?

Enter DOOMHAMMER, ZUL'JIN, and an escort of TROLLS

DOOMHAMMER: A friend -
Or one who has before been called a friend.
I come in haste, with tidings less than good.
Hast water and a change of mount for me?
Our lines must be secured for swift withdrawal,
And to the Portal now dispatched thy sons
With all the riders left them, to escort
The poor remainder of our forces home.

REND: Thou coward!

MAIM: Craven, thou! And with what beasts,
What slaves of this rude wilderness comst here?
Our orders were for slaughter unabridged.

DOOMHAMMER: Thou sons of mighty Blackhand, quarrel not.
The human power now descends on us
In numbers that we cannot hope to match.
This wild chieftain, Zul'jin, lent his scouts
In time to bring intelligence of this,
Repaying rescue done him by my hand.
Now fly! And hold thy words of scorn for me.
Long seasons more shall we together fight
'Ere this most bloody work is done. Thy sire
Knows my value on the battlefield;
Trust in his choice, and on my urgings fly!

BLACKHAND: Do as he says. This day I feared to see!

Exit REND and MAIM

DOOMHAMMER: Nay, fear it not. The Horde survives this day,
And shall in preparation come again.
The leadership of warlocks brought these woes,
And better-led we shall afright these foes.

BLACKHAND: Thou speakest true. Would I had never heard
This Gul'dan's name! We shall a goodly time
His management of woe amending be.
Praise Fortune that the blame thus far to he,
And not to Blackhand and his Orgrim falls!

DOOMHAMMER: Thou praiseth Fortune half for what she does,
And half for duties left by her remiss.
Thou speakest true, no blame on Orgrim falls,
But of that left, full equal share is thine
As that which in our camps to Gul'dan's named.

BLACKHAND: Damned ruination! How can I then restore
My chieftain's faiths, and Gul'dan's power break?

DOOMHAMMER: By being overthrown. No more can'st thou,
Unhappy warrior - I would thou couldst!

BLACKHAND: This speaking like I not. What does thy man,
This savage chieftain, now? His forces spread
And arm themselves as if for bloody war.
No hoofbeats are upon us come; no sound
Of trumpeting afrights my wary ear.

ZUL'JIN: To see this dance of chieftains came we here.
Between thee and thy flight we stand - no more.
Thy arm, and Doomhammer's, decides thy fate.

DOOMHAMMER: No more can I afford to grant thee, friend,
Than this the chance that every man deserves.
Take up thy axe. They fight.

BLACKHAND: Would any man but thee
Had failed me thus! My sons I would mistrust
'Ere Doomhammer - ambition runs in them,
And on their every word and deed is stamped.
In thee I saw but service to the Horde!

DOOMHAMMER: So serve I now. Thy death must mend our Horde.
I have no skill at wheedling politics,
Nor know the ways to smile a man to death.
Thy head must buy my chieftain's loyalties,
And they against the warlock must be hurl'd.
No other way within my talents lies.

BLACKHAND: Falling. Of this treachery was I even warned,
And yet I doubted Gul'dan - loving fool!
Too fond I grew of you, my champion,
But fondness ever hath my downfall been.
Too well I loved the she that bore me sons,
Though faithfulness beyond our powers proved.
Didst ever like me, Doomhammer? Nay, nay -
Thy lips need give no answering to that.
Doomhammer ever Doomhammer hath loved,
No more, no less, and even at my end
I cannot say that thou deserv'st it not.
Farewell, brave warrior! A thousand more
But in thy fashion cast would I have had,
Although a thousand times they slew me thus.
Then might this world have trembled at our march.
My sons shall live to devil thee, I think -
They have more of their mother than of me.
Wilt lead our forces? Nay, I need not ask -
Then scatter thou the riders to the ranks,
And break apart those who support would give
To other claimants of my antler'd crown.
My time is short! Such words thou needst not hear.
The better of us at this policy
Thou ever wert, my patient Doomhammer.
Forgive me if thou canst the appetites
That unchecked brought this Horde to Gul'dan's heel,
And as thou ever loved me, if thou hast,
His traitor's head upon a pole make fast! He dies.

DOOMHAMMER: He breathes his last. Rest we a while here,
Then to the Horde with tidings of his fall.

ZUL'JIN: We'll go with thee. This battle was well-fought,
And to a man who can with arid eye
Such friends at need dispatch, much honor's due.

DOOMHAMMER: I'll bless thee for that pragmatism, troll,
Until the day it turns thy tribe on me.
Come - while thy duty to me lasts, away.
Thy warriors to Gul'dan are unknown,
And he in torpor lies, by magics felled
Beyond my comprehending save for this:
He waketh not, nor knoweth not of aught
That in the latest seven days took place.
Therefore we'll for a time this world quit,
Returning to my native soil in force,
And with thy levies and my clans' combined
We'll fall upon the warlock citadel,
Destroy its walls, and slaughter all within.

ZUL'JIN: And then that power bend upon the elves,
Warchief-to-be, the payment promised me.

DOOMHAMMER: 'Gainst elves, 'gainst humans, 'gainst the very gates
Of Hell itself this army would I march.
Thy elves will fall. Now leave me here a while,
These bones in privacy to lay to rest -
I would that final honor Blackhand do. Exit ZUL'JIN and his TROLLS
"Doomhammer ever Doomhammer hath loved,"
Quoth thee - I wonder if it were not true.
I am not of my nature tyrannous.
Desire to mend the Horde impels me thus,
Yet love of self must in that somewhere be,
Or else the task I'd leave to other hands.
My strengths I know - in battle masterful,
In drinking and in wenching fit enough,
And patient as most unbefits an orc -
These make an able leader in the whole.
Yet able too was Blackhand in the field,
Of women and of ale more wise than me,
And if not patient, strong at least in heart,
The surest death able to court with cheer,
And loving of his friends as they deserved.
A goodly man in whole, and yet unfit.
What poison dwells within this Gul'dan's breath,
That all who listen closely to him change,
Their flaws made magnified, their virtues shrunk,
And all but battle, lust, and spoil forgot?
Alone, I seem immune, and for this strength,
No more, do I more worthy hold myself
To take the Warchief's mantle from thy bones.
Those do I bury here, may they rest well.
Gul'dan anon I'll send with thee to Hell! Exit, End.

[ This is SPECTACULAR. Thank you so much for sharing this. ]

[ This is SPECTACULAR. Thank you so much for sharing this. ]

((And thank you for saying so! I had fun with it. Perhaps some day someone will put it on in-game, who knows.))