“Singlepipe.”

“Here Captain,” said Tinkerer Singlepipe. The gnome climbed a boulder then took a seat. He whipped out a dagger, twirling it with his hand.

“Sunwaker.”

“Present,” said the Magister Alamere Sunwaker. The elf remained standing with a brightly colored staff planted into the baked ground.

“Riverwood.”

“Reporting in sir,” I said then took out a parchment book and pen. I was the team’s scribe, among other things. I was supposed to write down the goings of each meeting so that Captain Falmore could write official reports at the end of the day.

“Bluebea-,” Knight-Captain Elric Falmore said then pointed at a glass rod latched onto the dwarf’s belt. “Bluebeard, why do you have a wand?”

“Well why not Cap’n?” Bluebeard replied. “I can use it and it is always good to have more than one weapon on hand.”

For Bluebeard, there could never be one-too many weapons. In addition to the wand, he had a rifle and a crossbow slung over his back, two axes tied behind his shoulder, an officer’s saber on his belt I was pretty sure he picked up back in Alterac Valley, and four daggers sheathed next to his legs. I wasn’t sure how he managed to move with all that weight but he somehow did.

“Nevermind,” Captain Falmore sighed. One learned to never argue with a dwarf with a 150 years of life experience about having one too many weapons.

“We have everyone, Bluebeard please relay your findings,” he asked and removed his helmet. Captain Falmore was intimidating enough with a height towering over even elves. The addition of his scar-riddled face would be enough to send most new recruits running.

An elf, a dwarf, a gnome, and two humans. The only multi-racial patrol team in the entire region. A team I trusted only one man to lead.

I made a quick note of it on parchment. “Captain Falmore did a count before the battle plan as usual”.

While writing I checked the mana-gauge on my left wrist. It was a gnomish bracelet that had a bar that moved from left to right. Singlepipe customized it for me. It detected energy levels respect to our class. Warriors saw a red bar. Hunters and rogues had a yellow bar. Paladins, Priests, and Mages had blue bars. The scale marker for my blue bar indicated 82%.

“Yep, hold on,” Bluebeard said as his right eye flared green. He stared blankly into the distance.

“Yep confirmed. We got a fair amount. I count ten. Four heavies…. all two-handers. Four regs... looks like they got a hunter and three rogues, and two clothies…. can’t tell if they are non-combatants or mages. Heavies are hauling two wagons with them. Heading due north-east,” he said.

I scribbled down a summary of his words, but I couldn’t help feel the unease that crawled down my spine. These were orcs. The primary race of a coalition of other-worldly invaders named the Horde that had terrorized human, dwarven, gnomish, and elven countries for the last decade. We had endearingly categorized orcs into the following. Heavies were heavily armored. Typically warriors. Regs categorized both hunters and rogues. Clothies were non-combatants or…

“Wait scratch that,” Bluebeard said. “Clothies are confirmed locks.”

Singlepipe stopped playing with his dagger. Sunwaker stood straighter.

Locks, short for warlocks. Orc spell-casters. Dangerous and extremely rare outside of their main strongholds.

“Are you certain?” Captain Falmore asked, a grim look on his face

“Yep. I had Fenstring fly a bit closer. Hah! They probably think the old bird is just a desert buzzard. But the clothies are definitely warlocks. They got staves, and they are glowing green. Ugh. Fenstring can smell the fel energy from here. I also got a good look at one of the wagons. Both are covered, but not completely. Whatever it is, it looks like a big green rock.”

“An infernal stone,” Magister Alamere Sunwaker said. “They are most certainly warlocks.”

“Infernals?” asked Tinkerer Singlepipe. “Those big green flaming golems? I thought those stopped being used after the big battle at Blackrock Mountain.”

“That is true,” replied Alamere. “However, you are thinking only in terms of field battles. Infernals have typically been used in attacks against fortified settlements. The infernal stone this band possesses is one example. Traditionally, the Horde would launch them into walled towns and cities. They would pre-emptively put seals on them to unravel upon impact-

“Like a bomb?” Singlepipe interrupted.

The elf’s eyebrow jerked a bit at being interrupted. Him and the gnome typically got on each other’s nerves. It didn’t help that both of their races had radically different ideas on the uses of arcane energy.

“Although ‘bomb’ is a gross simplification for the process known as an unraveling seal,” Alamere said. “It does fit the functional definition for these purposes. So yes quite like a bomb. The stone would release high amounts of fel energy upon impact. It would then reanimate into an infernal and go on a rampage unless subdued.”

“Well, why are they trying to transport that thing out to nowhere?” Singlepipe asked. “Ironforge is west and Stormwind is south.”

“Recent events suggest otherwise,” I said. “There was a camp brief that indicated that an orcish clan known as Dragonmaw has somehow eluded detection in the Wetlands. They must have laid low after the Horde’s defeat in the Second War. Recently they have started hit and run raids near Menethil Harbor, just north of here.”

“Wait you actually listen to those?” the gnome asked.

“Someone has to.” I shrugged before jostling more notes down on Bluebeard’s findings.

“Riverwood is right,” said Captain Falmore. “They are probably set to rendezvous with this “Dragonmaw Clan”. If those things get to Menethil Harbor, it will cause untold damage. This doesn’t bode well. Sunwaker what else do you know about infernals?”

“Well, infernals are highly dangerous but at the moment they are probably sealed in a passive form. I don’t think they would be able to use them without a trigger. Such a trigger would require an intensely large amount of energy.”

“So why don’t we just go over there and take them out?” Singlepipe said stabbing into the air with his dagger.

“Because everything I said has a degree of uncertainty,” Alamere replied. “For all I know, those infernal stones might as well be active. One is dangerous and they have two.”

“Well, we have been through worse you know,” said Singlepipe. “It can’t be any dangerous than that band of orcs and their ice golem we faced down in Alterac. Or whatever that awful thing was that troll witchdoctor summoned in Arathi last summer.”

“And if you don’t recall,” replied Alamere. “It was only a miracle that we lived through either situation. I would like to bring up that “thing” last summer ate you.”

“Ugh don’t remind me.” Singlepipe closed his eyes and shook his head. “I had to toss all my clothes from the smell.”

I cringed. The being in question resembled a massive tentacled slime the size of a small house. After being summoned, it picked him up and swallowed him whole. We all thought he was dead, until he cut his way out of its skin in the middle of the battle.

“And it was thanks to your effort at giving it indigestion that we won,” said Alamere. “These infernals are more deadly.”

“Yea you’re right,” said Singlepipe. “There is probably a safer way to handle this.”

“Captain,” said Alamere. “I do believe there is a garrison of soldiers near Loch Modan. I believe it is more reasonable for them to deal with this threat.”

“Yep I agree,” Singlepipe said.

“Your call boss,” Bluebeard said. “I’m always up to clobber orcs but you’re the man on this one,” Bluebeard said. His eyes continued to look straight as he channeled Eyes of the Beast.

I stayed silent while furiously writing down the dialogue. I didn’t really want to pursue. This was supposed to be my last patrol and I would have preferred to ride it out quietly. Better to let someone else deal with this mess. Orders were orders though.

Captain Falmore rubbed his chin and looked thoughtfully at the ground.

“Alright, here is the plan. Riverwood.”

“Yes Captain?” I asked.

“Direct a letter to the main camp. Let them know of the threat and that the northern garrison should be notified. Oh… and additionally include a note that this orc entourage has been spotted following the main corridor of the central valley. Someone needs to get the southern patrols to do their jobs.”

“Acknowledged Captain,” I replied. The letter was certainly going to raise how an entire band of orcs managed to make cross nearly the entirety of the southern and central badlands undetected. I had a feeling several patrol teams were going to be asked unpleasant questions about their diligence in the near future. Well-deserved actually. I was very aware how the teams tended to half-ass their efforts.

“However, “the Captain said, putting on his helmet. “We need to keep track of the orc patrol and make updates as needed to their movement. Bluebeard keep eyes on the orcs. We are going to maintain a steady distance to them so I want everyone to meet back here with their mounts.”

We rose up and saluted as one before splitting off to carry our duties.

I wrapped up the piece of parchment and tied it with a piece of string. With my left hand I reached into my rear pouch and pulled out a multi-colored pebble. It was called a hearthstone and came in pairs. The other part of this pair was currently at the main camp at the courier’s desk.

I focused mentally inward, into what could be the core of my existence or soul as the Church of the Holy Light called it. I reached deeper into the core to what could only be described as a sphere of light. This was the foundation of all who were born with the ability to be a priest or paladin. According to the Church, this sphere was a blessing and proof of our exalted nature.

It was also granted us the power to wield holy energy. I drew just a sliver from the sphere and called it to the hearthstone. White light flared from my hand and the pebble began to glow as the magical mechanism within activated.

I placed it on top of the scroll and waited. After a few moments, the two vanished. Both would appear at the courier’s office soon.

“Eratus, na-all eithel?” (Eratus, is everything well?) asked Sunwaker.

The elf was sitting atop a two-legged bird with colorful feathers. The bird was known as a hawkstrider, and was the main mount of high elves as they deemed themselves. It squawked as it came to a halt next to my horse.

“All na-eithel Magistros, Im on-Tiw sui Capitan anir,” (All is well Magister, I sent everything as the Captain requested) I replied back in elvish with a light bow befitting elven custom befitting one addressing a Magister.

“Please,” he replied, getting off his mount. “Alamere will do just fine.”

“No problem. The mannerisms my instructor instilled carry true. My hands have long since healed but the mind still remembers,” I said. The instructor in question had a nasty attitude toward proper etiquette when using the high-elven tongue. He cast the spell on the trainees that would use arcane energy to carve the proper rank or prefix every time we misused it during verbal practice sessions. The scars on our hands healed, but those in our minds remained engraved.

Alamere merely nodded and began to brush the feathers on his hawkstrider. “I did get a chance to visit your academy once. It was long-ago when I was but a fledgling. Although, I disagree with the methodology I am impressed with the results. You speak our tongue well for a human.”

“The pleasure is all mine Magi- I mean Alamere,” I reached for the potion knapsack on the side of my horse.

“It is mutual. Not many high-elves still serve in the Alliance so it is rare to come across an opportunity to practice the language of the Quel’dorei.”

“It is a shame, we could certainly use more of you. Human mages can do some extraordinary things but I have only heard wonders of what elven magic is capable of. It was the elves after all who taught the first human magisters the arcane arts.”

“Oh enough flattery. Believe me when I say your kind have accomplished more than enough. Although, it is strange coming from a paladin. I was rather surprised with your open-mindedness when it comes to the magical arts. Most of your kind tend to look down upon such practices.”

“Eh, it was probably because I’m not exactly your run-of-the-mill paladin.” I began to rummage through my knapsack, keeping tabs on potions and ensuring the bottles were sealed and secure. “I grew up in out in the country. Lots of locals were mages who were looking for a quiet life and they tilled the land and built houses like the rest of us. They did a lot of good with the powers they had. The way, I see it powers we have, whether we are a mage, rogue, hunter, warrior or even a paladin are a tool. It can be used for good, it can be used for evil.” Everything was secure so I moved on to another knapsack.

” That was rather wise for someone so young.”

“Heh.” I smiled. “Now who is the one flattering who Alamere?”

“That is Magister Alamere to you Eratus.”

We laughed.

“Well, that is probably why I never made it far as a paladin.” I sighed. “If you want to climb the ranks, best thing would be to become aide to some famous commander or become an Inquisitor. Figures I got moved to the front-lines.

Last knapsack was good. I tightened the straps down. “And here I was thinking my last patrol was going to be fairly peaceful. I suppose the trials and tribulations never stop do they.”

“After 4 years of fighting, one should deserve some measure of peace,” Alamere said.

“Hey enough jabbering about now,” squeaked Tinkerer Singlepipe from behind us.

The gnome was perched on a two-legged bird. It looked just like Alamere’s hawkstrider except that it was made purely of metal. It moved mechanically and awkwardly. It didn’t squawk like Alamere’s mount. However, it did growl and every time it did, smoke roared out of an exhaust pipe under it.

Alamere coughed as the smoke blew towards him. “Goodness, do tell me the elegance in such a device?” he asked.

“Don’t you mean ingenious?” he said moving the mechano-strider next to Alamere’s hawkstrider.

The hawkstrider squawked and stared at the metal bird, sizing it up like a competitor. The metal bird in response simply stood, billowing smoke every few moments.

“Anyhow,” Singlepipe said. “I do think that some things you pointy-eared folks design are worthwhile. The enchantments on my knives and guns are fading away. Do you mind redoing them?”

“Very well my dear gnome,” Alamere replied. “I would also be averse to saying there isn’t at the least some instrumental use in gnomish contraptions. One of the lenses cracked on my goggles, would you mind repairing it? The sand is woefully terrible on my eyesight and seeing how we will be on the move soon, I think it is most prudent to get it repaired.”

I chuckled and moved on to the other side of my mount letting the gnome and elf to go about their work. The two of them were like oil and water and came from two very different civilizations with very different views on arcane energy. In the end, they grew to respect each other.

“Everything going well here?” Captain Falmore asked from behind us. He was atop a large brown horse that was most certainly bred as a charger.

“Yes Captain,” we all replied in unison.

“Good.” He said. “Eratus do you have anything to report from main camp?”

“Yes sir, I just sent the message. Just waiting on a response back.”

“Excellent job,” he said then moved his charger next to mine. “Thank you for the update.”

He removed his helmet. His hair seemed even more unkempt and the fact that it had grown a bit long was even more apparent. There was some gray sprinkled in to his hair indicating his age. However, he had a warrior’s stamina and was likely going to remain stronger than most youths well until he was infirm.

“Hair looks a little long Captain,” I asked.

“Hah,” he replied. “If you’ve noticed then I guess it is about time I got it cut. Not that anyone else cares. You’ve seen how everyone looks back at the main camp.”

“True,” I replied. I’d daresay most of the ranking men and women had hair as long as or longer than the Captain’s. I also did recall seeing one maverick officer sport a mustache, in the gnomish style.

“I have to say it is a blessing that it has been pretty quiet until now,” I said.

“A blessing!” Captain Falmore replied. “I haven’t thought about that in that way but that is one way to put it,” he said. “Too bad the blessing didn’t last till today. There is no reason for you to be out here right before heading home.”

“I’m just fulfilling my duties sir.”

“From what I have seen you have done enough in the last three years,” Captain Falmore said. “You should have taken the offer to be transferred to Camp Support and just rode it out till you could return home.”

In retrospect it made the most sense to have transferred into camp logistics. The job revolved around bookkeeping for the most part. Most of my time would have been spent in the nice cooled tents at the main camp. I denied the offer though.

“Well, I couldn’t leave my old team without a paladin,” I replied.

Captain Falmore coughed and shook his head. “We will be fine. And I don’t mean that in the sense that we don’t need your assistance. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders and a decent heart kid. It is a shame to lose you but you are better off doing something else other than whatever we are done here.”

“Now you are sounding a lot like Bluebeard Captain,” I said.

“Well as much as he is a pain in my ass the old dwarf knows a lot,” he replied. “This isn’t a kind profession and not one you can raise a family off of.” His eyes glazed over after saying family. Circumstances told me it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about.

Speaking of Bluebeard, at that precise moment the gravelly voice of the dwarf came up from behind us. His mount was a short snow-ram. I had no idea how the poor creature was able to handle the heat of the badlands since it was naturally raised in the mountains. Not to mention’s Bluebeard’s bulk. Still is trotted one, completely oblivious to the weather or his master’s weight. His master however, seemed to be yelling something.

“Captain! Captain!” he said huffing and puffing. I paid close attention. Whatever it was had gotten Bluebeard to scramble.

“Go ahead,” Captain Falmore replied.

“I trailed the pathway of the orcs. There is a wreckage not too far off. There is a decent amount of smoke.”

Singlepipe and Alamere stopped working and paid attention as well.

“I can’t verify it but definitely of human or dwarf-make,” Bluebeard said. “It has to be pretty recent.”

Possible Civilian casualties in our area, and the orcs were involved. This wasn’t good.

“Light be damned,” said Captain Falmore. “Everyone mount up!”