WoW Fanfic

[masterofweirdness]

First bit of a large short story, or should I say, very small novel. Its World of Warcraft, but takes place mostly between Warcraft 2- Warcraft 3. I'll post up more ASAP.

Qzar, a fallen mage in a fallen world
A WoW Fanfic

It was storming outside. Lightning flashed; thunder roared. The wind whipped about throwing anything that was not strapped down into the air. Rain poured from the heavens like it was a holy weapon of vengeance.

Inside a cave sat a lone figure shrouded in darkness. He sat on what appeared to be a crude bed. Next to the bed was a bookshelf filled with various texts and records of what most would call “dark” arts.

The figure arose as a lightning struck the ground illuminating him. His skin was old and rotten, like his body had decomposed over the past few years. But the thing that really struck you was his face. Half of it didn’t even have any skin, his skull was visible, and he was missing an eye, instead there was a glowing… substance in it.

The creature picked out a book and uttered a word of power, a light appeared and he as picked up a quill, wetted it with ink, and began to write.

Personal Journal of the Undead Mage Qzar, student in the arts of necromancy and shadow magic, master of the arcane arts

This is my story, my path to power. At the time of my “death” may whoever finds this book and reads it understand that whatever wrongs I have committed in their eyes, was, first and foremost, my choice, but secondly the choice of fate.

I suppose the story really begins, what, almost seven years ago? Ah, it seems like a lifetime. But, then again, in many ways it was.

I was what? About eighteen? No. I was seventeen. It was the city of Dalaran, home of the magi of the human realm. It was here that I began my journey to what some might say oblivion.

Part I: Young Mage

Ever since I can remember I wished to be a mage. I was the youngest of four sons so my father cared little for what I did. My eldest brother though forbade me to learn of magic. He was a squire to a member of the Order of the Silver Hand, a paladin, and as such hated magic with a vengeance.

Perhaps he was right, perhaps I should have taken up a sword and joined him in the rank of young men eager for war praying that I receive an easy knighthood as he did, but I did not. No, when I was seventeen I ran away from home. By then my father was dead and the estate was in the hands of my eldest brother, I believe he was twenty-five and married.

I had no place on the estate and knew it, my only hope was to master a trade, my skill with the blade was mediocre at best and my chance for knighthood was slim to say the least. So I left the estate with nothing more than a days worth of food, about fifty silver pennies, the clothes on my back, and the dream in my heart.

* * *

It took a month of travel. A month of walking until I was afraid I would die of heatstroke, then collapsing near the road because I not the money for food nor lodgings. Sometimes I would get lucky and help out a merchant with his cart and in return get a hot meal at an inn, but usually once my money ran out I went hungry.

By the time I got to Dalaran I was near starving and exhausted. I entered the city and managed to earn enough for a meal, a mug of cheap ale and an equally cheap bed. It was not until morning that I explored the city.

It was wonder! I would say about half the people were of the magical variety, but what were more amazing were the elves! They were everything I had imagined and more, how I was awed by them. Is it not ironic is it that in not five years time would it be I that would lead the forces of darkness against these beautiful creatures?

I managed to make my way through the city to what appeared to be a mage guild building. I entered the building to find it was a store, of sorts, it was filled with many, many, many potions, with strange names, such as “elixir of fire berry” and “potion of great frostmirth.” The clerk who was keeping the shop said, “Excuse me sir, but can I help you?”

Being the fool that I was I said, “Umm, I was looking for a job.”

The man’s expression changed from one of a helpful clerk to an angry man, “Get out!”

“But all I–” I tried.

“I said GET OUT! Or I shall call the master out and he will deal with you!” the man said.

A bit put off I left the shop, “And don’t come back!”

I tried the same thing in another shop and the clerk gave me the same reaction. By then it was about noon, and if I was to eat a meal I would have to work. I found a merchant who needed my aid and managed to get enough for a loaf and some ale to wash it down with, not much but it was all I could afford.

I explored the city more and tried asking a few about a job, but many pushed me off as a simple beggar. Finally I asked the same merchant I had helped as he left the city, “Good sir, I was wondering, but do you know where in the city I could learn of magical arts?”
The man, slightly fat riding on his plodding donkey said, “What do you mean, lad?”

“I have journeyed for a month to this city to learn the ways of magic, but now do not know how to go about getting myself apprenticed!”

The man turned his head back to me, regarded me and said, “You look like a man of noble blood.”

“I am. My father was a minor noble of the human kingdom of Lorderan, my eldest brother a young knight in the Order of the Silver Hand.”

“A pally? That would explain you then, darn their arrogance,” the man replied.

“Sir?” I said, puzzled.

“One doesn’t just walk into the city and ask for a job, lad. As a noble it should be no problem, you just get your father or whatever to write you a letter to Kirin Tor (the council of archmages he explained) and then well… the point is you get some training and in a few years you’re a mage.”

“But without this letter?” I asked.

“You’d need to ask a mage do to it as personal favor, and I take it you don’t know any magi willing to train you?” the man asked.

“Umm, yes sir, I mean, no sir, I don’t.”

The man sighed, “Very well. Listen, you help me with my merchandise, it’ll probably take me about a month to get back to Dalaran. Once we get back I’ll help you get some training.”

The merchant, whose name happened to be Herven, was true to his word. I helped him sell and buy his goods. In return he fed me and gave me a place to sleep. By the end of the month I was back in Dalaran, this time with a friend at my side and a piece of paper in my hand.

That day we went to visit the council that ruled Dalaran, a group that called themselves the Kirin Tor. This Kirin Tor was a collection of the most powerful magi in all the land. It was their job to rule over Dalaran and its outlying subsidies, as well as to represent those of the magi all over the Alliance of Lorderan. We went to them to discus my desire to be apprenticed. I waited in a sitting room impatiently while Herven talked to the Kirin Tor.

After an hour of discussion I was called in. I entered the room to find not only Herven but some odd twenty magi sitting in the room, they were all shapes and sizes, races and colors, some were human, a few were elven, and there was even a gnome among them.

“So, you wish to learn the art of the magi?” An elven woman said.

“Umm, yes ma’am, I do, very much I do,” I replied.

“Is that so?” A human said.

“Yes, it is,” I said again, slightly puzzled.

“Really? We don’t get a lot of fresh blood these days you know,” the gnome said.

“Most people distrust us, paladins down right hate us, something about damning our souls by using magic,” yet another human said.

“I would know sir, my brother is one,” I put in.

“Is that so?” the elven woman said in a fake surprised tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

“And you wish to become a mage, thus no doubt losing what ever inheritance you would gain?” the gnome asked.

“Yes sir, I do, and will, I hope,” I answered.

The council stared at me for several minutes, I felt as if I were being probed from all sides.

Finally one of them spoke, it was the gnome, “Very well, you may become a mage, come back this time tomorrow and we will see to your testing.”

“Thank you, thank you very much, umm, umm,” I was stumped for a word.

Herven whispered not so softly, “Council.”

“Thank very so much, my Council,” said.

They laughed, “Thank us later, you may yet regret this day for many years to come,” an old man told me.

I did as I said I would. Herven, with his need to be off had given me some extra coin saying, “Good luck. I shall inquire of you when I next come.”

“And when will that be?” I inquired.

“Who knows, perhaps next month, perhaps next year, depends on what in the market really, I sell everything and anything you know,” Herven replied.

I laughed as I remembered some interesting events that had taken place that month, “Yes, yes, I know, until then I guess.”

“Until then.”

[masterofweirdness]

The following day I was, as the Kirin Tor put it, “tested.” What they meant was I spent half of the day telling someone what I knew, and he told them what I didn’t and the other half was spent trying to understand the very basic concept of what magic is and what I needed to do to master it. In short I was told that I was a failure and should leave Dalaran right there and then. However, since I didn’t, they told me I was to become a mage. They gave me some money for an inn and told me to return to the council room the next day.

I returned to the Kirin Tor and they assigned me, along with about eight other humans to various masters, of whom there was only one human. My master was the mage Yrven, an elf who, as I was told, focused in ice magic. When we left the council chambers he turned to me and said, “Well my young apprentice, tomorrow we shall embark upon a journey of discovery and power! As for today I will assign your textbooks that should have read and understood by the end of the month.”

“What if I cannot duplicate the work in them, master?” I asked.

“That is irrelevant, right now you don’t need to even be doing magic, just make sure you understand the concepts themselves, and maybe in two or three months I’ll have you doing some basic spells,” Yrven said in return.

Two or three months! I thought, “are you sure it will take so long, master?”

“No. But I have trained many students in my time, both elf and human, and it takes many of them a long time to understand and repeat the concepts of basic arcane magic, which is the simplest magic of all.”

We began to walk to his shop, which I understood sold enchanted objects. As we walked I asked, “There is more than one kind of magic?”

Yrven chuckled slightly, “Of course. You don’t think the orcs used the arcane arts to destroy the elven forests, no they used warlock magic, and to some extent the necromantic arts.”

“What is the difference between these kinds of magic?”

“Well, mainly magic depends on where and how you draw your power. Power drawn from, let us say, a demon, is warlock magic, necromancy is similar to arcane magic but instead it is used to summon the dead from the grave, this, in effect makes it a very different power. Also, when using warlock magic, you weave different spells, you create demonfire and such. Arcane magic creates different things, such as the simple element of water.”

I nodded my head as he said these things, and after I had thought about it, then asked, “Now, these kinds of magic, they are forbidden, yes?”

“Not exactly, the Kirin Tor hates such magic and young mages are not encouraged to spend much time in learning them. But forbidden is probably a bit to strong. It would be more accurate to say they are discouraged, highly discouraged.” Yrven replied.

“Why is this master?” I asked.

He looked at me, and then said, “It is a simple matter, warlock magic, attracts the demonic, and should demons come to this land they would destroy it. However, necromancy I am not as sure about, but I suppose that it has much to do with the defiling of the dead.”

“But, what if, let us say, for arguments sake, a man should wish to be raised from the grave?”

“Unfortunately I cannot answer that question. I have never given much thought to the “dark” arts of magic, so I would suggest you ask my friend Kang. He is my associate in our shop keeping venture and knows much more of such things.”

“Very well,” I replied.

We continued down the streets of Dalaran. It was truly an amazing city, humans, elves, and a few gnomes were all over the city, selling, buying, trading, and talking. The most amazing thing was what the merchants were selling, from basic wizard staffs to, as they put it, “ancient and powerful healing potions of great value.”

“Amazing isn’t it?” Yrven said.

“What? Sorry, master, what did you say?” I asked.

“The, city, the people, everything! Dalaran is amazing, without a doubt it is probably the greatest city in all of Azeroth!” Yrven said to his young apprentice.

I chuckled slightly, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

By then we had reached the Yrven’s shop. As they entered the store I looked about it was a smallish sort of room, not big, but not small either, a counter appeared about three fourths of the way in and behind it sat an elderly looking human with a prominent belly who was talking to a very pretty elven woman.

“Come back if you need anything, and just remember Kang’s always here to help!” The human said.

The elf smiled and left with a parcel under her arm.

“Ah! Yrven, you come now with our new apprentice, I presume?” Kang said in what I would call a boisterous sort of voice, the kind that would be used by a man who had drank to much wine.

“Kang my friend! How was business? And do not tell me that was your only customer,” Yrven replied.

“Only! Only, ha! Very funny my friend, no of course not, you have been gone most of the day, you left before the sun had risen, and now, look already it is sunset! The shop was full of them, I’m glad we have an apprentice now, we’ll need him to tend to the shop!” Kang replied.

Yrven smiled, “no, that is your job, he will be taught the skill of magic by me, I will help here if I can, but I think I will be much preoccupied,” then he said turning to me, “but enough of this business talk! Come, let us show you our humble home and show you were you shall sleep.”

We left the shop and entered the back of the building. The first room was, as Yrven told me, Kang’s. It was a small room, a bed on one side, a stove on the other and some bookshelves in between.

The next room was Yrven’s. It was the biggest, with a large bookshelf and a small table as well as his desk and bed. Finally the third room was the attic. This was, Yrven told me, to be my room. It had a straw cot and a cheap looking desk, as well as a variety of potions on one side.

We left the attic and as we went into Yrven’s room I smelled fresh bread. Kang, it would appear and summoned the stuff out of thin air! And so we sat down to a simple meal of cheese, bread and ale. After we had done so Kang went into his room leaving me and Yrven to talk about my studies.

“Now, as I understand it your father is dead and by now your brother had disowned you, correct?” He said as soon as Kang was away.

“Yes, you are right master,” I replied.

“Well then, in that case your studies are all up to you,” the elf began, “I will give you the books and ask that you spend three hours a day studying them. As for the rest of your time, it would be beneficial to your education that you aid Kang in shop keeping, as well and try and ask us any questions you would have about magic. Anything at all, even if it is a stupid question we will do our best to answer it,” he said. After moments paused he then added, with a smile, “Though try not to ask many stupid questions.”

[masterofweirdness]

As so my training began. At first it was quite tedious, I read various books about the arcane arts, Magic, a history, The art of Magic revealed, and Magic, the amazing art of elves all of which, were for the most part, were a bore. There were some interesting bits and pieces within the books. However, I found, for the most part, these books quite the dry, and dull.

Finally I got to the real stuff, Yrven gave me a book titled: The beginners guide to Arcane Magic. The first few pages were a short history of magic, after which came a short chapter on proper casting techniques and the use of wands and magic words. Finally Yrven told me I was ready to learn my first spell.

The spell was a simple enchanting spell that would make me move slightly faster, however I found it amazingly difficult. Yrven and Kang both showed me their methods of casting the spell (Yrven muttered some elven word and Kang waved his wand like a maniac). As for myself, well I tried both. I had purchased a wand as well as a staff and use a combination of waving, muttering, shouting, and on the odd occasion, cursing; none of them worked.

It took me three weeks, finally I did it, and even then I couldn’t repeat the spell for another week. Yrven was surprised at how fast I managed the spell, but when I moved on to the next and once again resumed my frustrating wand-waving-curse-shouting self, he just smiled and said, “Kang was the same way at your age, son.”

“And you weren’t?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

“I’m an elf, we have more patience than most humans,” he said, still smiling.

And so my training continued. It took long enough but within six months I was casting basic spells with ease and skill.

And so Yrven told me to aid Kang in the shop and I began my short-lived career as an Enchanter. I say my career was short-live because I only lasted a few weeks. Let me put it this way: Kang, although a good natured-fellow was insane when it came to keeping his customers happy.

So here I was, a young human, barely eighteen years of age, with no knowledge of enchanting trying to help someone who new more than me; it was a disaster. Luckily, I caught on fast and by the end of the week, through rot memorization I knew every single item we kept in stock. However, another problem came up, I didn’t like the job. Okay, granted I wasn’t much of a mage at the time, but some how the idea of using my magical powers to make others happy didn’t appeal. Not one bit.

So I quit the job and got back to studying full time. Slowly, over the period of that year I mastered the basics. It wasn’t easy, each spell had to memorized and thought over carefully. Otherwise disaster could ensue. Kang told me this one story of how he tried to summon a meal and turned his best friend into a piece of bread! Though I doubt the legitimacy to the story (Kang always stretched the truth, if only a bit), I got the general idea; don’t mess up.

After I had learned the basics of spell casting and understood how a spell was weaved, I moved on to the next step, the use of wands and other magical objects as well as the use of your hands to weave your spells. Wands had to be flicked and moved with almost pinpoint precision. To emphasize this Kang once told me a story of how he awoke with several daggers pointed at him! Apparently he had been muttered magic and rolling about in his sleep, thus moving his wand.

However, wands had their uses. Most wands were enchanted and had special properties that would aid their users in various kinds of spells. Kang, as I found out had a wand of minor enchanting. It allowed him to cast simple enchanting spells without even thinking. While Yrven had a unique elven wand: the wand of advanced magical manipulation, he used it sparingly and in the event of a battle his hands were probably more useful. But he one was going to commit himself to a powerful spell it was the wand of choice.

[masterofweirdness]

Though my training lasted for several years I progressed with surprising speed that was rare to say the least. I went from an apprentice to a full fledged mage in three years, which was almost unheard of with most magi. When I completed my training I took a job as a librarian in the Dalaran Library. It gave me a salary large enough to live off of and provided me with access to almost every single book in the library to continue my studies of the arcane arts. And so I studied, and studied, and studied. It was almost boring sometimes, but with training and practice I gained knowledge and skill, and with these I gained power.

The arcane arts were an amazing thing, but they lacked substance. I found myself learning the same thing over and over again in the books that I read. I soon found out that, even though I was only a young mage I had learned, more or less, everything that a mage needed to learn. The only thing that I needed now was to practice and refine the arts of spell weaving, something with could, and would take the rest of my life.

Practice, however, was something I would not find easily. I had in the ways of a battle mage of Dalaran, only to find that battle was a rare thing now. The final orc bastion had fallen months ago, and what other enemy remained for humanity?

So I began to read up on shadow magic. It was an interesting thing. Apparently no one really had much knowledge of it, except that it was an opposite of the Holy Light, the power of paladins and priests, thus, in some ways, it was considered a “dark” art, though it was seen more openly than the other “dark” arts. But I saw little use for this kind of magic. It was something a spy or assassin would find useful, and I was neither of these things. Also the few friends that I had showed distain in anything mildly even mildly considered “dark.” So, in order to appease them, I ceased my studies in the subject.

I thought, for a moment, about reading up on demonology, but then thought better of it. Kang had told him much of the subject and the idea filled me with disgust. Demons would not rule in my life with their foul workings and disgusting ideas. Necromancy too was out of the question. Although it had its uses, once again Kang had told me enough to feed any curiosity in it. On top of this, both were highly discouraged by the Kirin Tor along with the other various “dark” arts of magic as I knew, people just wouldn’t understand my curiosity.

It took me another month to decide what to do, but finally I decided. I quit my job, said good-bye to both Kang and Yrven, then taking my staff, extra cloak, and the book that contained all the magic I knew, set out for a world of adventure.