(41) - Old Hillsbrad - Part I

Griffonclaw stood behind - and of couse, above - Master Thrinwizzle, his jaw drappoed, unabashedly staring.

At the bronze dragon, Andormu. The dragon was ignoring everyone but Thrinwizzle, which was just as well, as Griffonclaw suspected the other companions summoned here by Master Thrinwizzle - gentle but deadly Haglal of the Hammer of Magni, the Dark Iron paladin Bjarki of the ERA, and Janira, warlock and ex-Hammer, now working with the Awakened - were just as in awe of the dragon as he was. Andormu was smaller and appeared more agile than the dragons that Griffonclaw had slain, or in which he'd taken part, like the red dragons that hunted near Blackrock Mountain, and Griffonclaw had heard stories of their cunning and wisdom. He had read in the archives of the Cathedral that they exist to keep the timestream inviolate and the order of events progressing as the fates intended, but he had never seen them before now.

Master Thrinwizzle had interesting friends. He had led them down into the fabled Cavers of Time - Griffonclaw had thought them a myth - and wanted Thrinwizzle to accomplish something for him. Griffonclaw listened to the behemoth speak.

"To the west is the timeway to Hillsbrad of the past, almost a decade ago," the dragon spoke. "Forces are working against the Horde warchief, Thrall, attempting to prevent him from ever escaping Durnholde Keep. In the world you know, Thrall was found amongst the bloody bodies of his murdered parents by Aedalas Blackmoore, who returned to Durnholde, raising Thrall as a gladiator. Blackmoore's daughter, Taretha Foxton, became Thrall's friend, and togother they planned Thrall's escape. She created a diversion while Thrall escaped from his cell, and they met up near Tarren Mill, where she gave him provisions and supplies. He then left Durnholde, hoping to never return again." The booming voice paused, and then continued. "If Thrall never escapes, this world - as you know it - will cease to exist. Master Thrinwizzle, you and your friends must go back to Old Hillsbrad, and prevent history from changing."

"We stand ready to aid you, Andormu, in this need or any other" answered Thrinwizzle, proud that the bronze dragon had contacted him for assistance. He took it as the ultimate complement for both his own abilities, and those of his guild and its allies. Without another word, Thrinwizzle stepped to the timeway that Andormu had indicated, and stepped through, secure and confident that his companions would be right behind them; he took their courage as granted, and he was not mistaken.

Griffoclaw felt strangely disoriented as he followed Thrinwizzle - it appeared first that he was walking down a slope, then up a wall, then walking backward, but he focused on following his friend and guild leader. Eventually, they came to a cave entrance, the mouth of what, in Griffonclaw's time, was a large cave infested by cave yeti. The entrance was guarded by another bronze dragon, who spoke to them.

"Our worst fears might soon be realized. The forces at work behind this temporal disturbance are a new flight of dragons known as the Infinite. We do not know where they came from or why they are destroying timeways. In this pocket of time, they have kidnapped Taretha, and hold her at Tarren Mill - without her, there is no diversion for Thrall's escape! And so, we must rely upon you - you must use the incendiary devices that I give you and burn down the internment lodges in Durnholde. When you have done this, free Thrall from the basement of Durnholde!"

Master Thrinwizzle took the explosive devices and their times with a child-like glee, and Griffonclaw smiled; he had seen that look in the eyes of many of his adopted people, Gnome and Dwarf alike, when handling explsoves.

They approached Durnholde Keep at night, and Griffonclaw was amazed at the contrast. At this time in his life, Griffonclaw was at the Cathedral, training for deployment; he had not seen Hillsbrad until relatively recently. In his mind, Durnholde had always been a ruin, and Tarren Mill a Forsaken outpost. They had waited in Tarren Mill at the inn, posing as a merchant and his guards, until the sun had fallen, and Master Thrinwizzle had discovered that Taretha was being held upstairs, above the common room. Under cover of dark they had left, and now planned their approach, hidden across the road from the entrance to Durnholde.

They had developed the beginnings of a plan, although they would not need much - entry was not forbidden for those who came to watch and wager on the gladiator bloodsports here, not even at odd hours; spectators often came to research their wagers, speak with the trainers, and watch the practice bouts. The cover they had established as "Thrinwizzle the Merchant", his apprentice, and his three guards would see them past the gate - it was when they descended into the enclosure to plant the explosions that they would be straying out of bounds. They passed through the gates, their cover intact, and headed over to the gladiatorial pits. No one paid them particular attention.

They ambushed the first patrol behind one of the buildings, and from there spread into the buildings from behind. Griffonclaw put on a tabard of one of the guards, and from there they crept from building to building; Thrinwizzle planted the explosives and synchronized the timers while Janira woke the sleeping orc prisoners. The paladins kept watch, and ambushed other guards and patrols as needed. Griffonclaw was struck by the abuse and squallor of the orcs; small wonder that those who survived the interment camps were amongst the most implacable of the Horde. They brought the bodies of the fallen guards inside, and Griffonclaw distributed their weapons to eager orc fists; When the first explosion went off the orcs would attempt a mass escape, adding to the chaos and confusion.

He felt no pity for the guards he killed. Horuth himself would weep for these prisoners, who Griffonclaw knew - Burning Legion influence aside - to be a proud and noble race. They were no longer the Fel Orcs of the Outlands, the almost-mindless raging tools of the Burning Legion, and it tore at his heart to see them - to see anyone - subjected to abusive conditions such as this. There was a necessity here, to keep the past as it had been, but Griffonclaw found himself wishing he could break the chains of the whole Orc nation now, and not years from now when Thrall would lead them to Durotar.

Thrinwizzle had set one of the explosions to preceed the others by a short span, and had evacuated the orcs from that building into the other ones; the first explosion would be the signal to rise. They themselves waited in the building nearest the stairs; when the explosions began, they charged out and up the stairs, carving their way against a tide of guardsmen. Thrinwizzle and Janira had summoned Felhounds, and Griffonclaw tried not to look as the beasts took down guards who were also priests of the Light; it was necessary, but it still hurt him inside, where rational justification fought ingrained respect and obedience to the Light's Servants.

When they reached the top, Griffonclaw split from the group. They went to clear the way across the bridge and to the gate, while Griffonclaw - liveried as a guardsman of the keep - sought the basement dungeon and Thrall's cell. He slipped through the guards unchallanged, and crept down the stairs.

Thrall was kept in a large cell, clothed only in a plain cotton gambeson. He stood when Griffonclaw descended the stairs, and stared in amazement when Griffonclaw quietly took down his cell warden. "You are friend of Taretha? So this is her new plan? Very well then..." he spoke in a rough voice as Griffonclaw used the cell warden's keys to unlock the cell door. He must of been staring, as the young orc spoke to him. "You look upon me now and see only a boy, but in my heart and soul I hide my dreams. I have plans for my people, stranger." Thrall's face took on a determined mien. "One day, they shall overthrow their oppressors and rise as one. They will break free from the bonds that hold them and from that uprising shall be born the orcish Horde!"

He looked Griffonclaw in the face. "I promise you, stranger, should we make it out of here alive, when I have the means to reward this selfless deed, I will seek you out... I will find you."

Griffonclaw nodded, not trusting himself to speak. What if Griffonclaw slew Thrall, here and now? How many lives might be spared? But... no, what if the orcs then remained in the service of the Burning Legion? Ultimately, Thrall and his folloiwers were instrumental in their defeat; and a victorious Burning Legion would have killed or enslaved every man, woman and child, Alliance or Horde. The moment passed, and Griffonclaw merely nodded at the orc, not trusting what he might say if he started.

Together they climbed the stairs. Griffonclaw slew two more guards, pretending to be a comrade before putting a short dagger from the cell warden in their throats, stifling an alarm. Thrall armed himself as they went, taking axe and shield from one guard, leather hauberk and helm from another. His companions had already encountered a sizable patrol under one Captain Scafloc, and had killed it to the last man; Thrall spat and kicked the body as they passed. The front gate was deserted, but Griffoclaw knew that Haglal and Bjarki had disposed of the guards, and hidden the bodies.

When they achieved the road outside, and were clear from pursuit, Thrall turned to them. "Thank you friends" he said, still amazed at the constituency of this rescue party - dwarves and warlocks? "I owe my freedom to you. Where is Taretha? I hoped to see her one last time and thank her before leaving into the mountains. "

"Taretha cannot see you, Thrall" informed Thrinwizzle.

"What do you mean by this? Is Taretha in danger?" asked the burly orc gladiator.

"The situation is rather complicated, Thrall. It would be best for you to head into the mountains now, before more of Blackmoore's men show up. We'll make sure Taretha is safe" answered Thrinwizzle, trying desperately not to say too much.

"I will do no such thing. I simply cannot leave Taretha in danger while I run off into the mountains. I am no coward. Now, where is she?" Thrall demanded.

Thrinwizzle sighed. It was apparent to him that Thrall would not merely run to the relative safety of the mountains without releasing Taretha from captivity. "She is being held in Tarren Mill," the diminuative warlock explained. "She is behing held in the room above the common room."

"Very well," Thrall said, clearly worried for his friend. "Tarren Mill lies just west of here. Time is of the essence..." and he mounted Captain Skarloc's now-ownerless horse. "Let's ride!"

The paladins and warlocks looked at him, and shrugged at each other. In seconds, demonic steed and spiritual charger were summoned, and the odd assemblage of Warlock, Paladin, and the future leader of the Horde rode west.