Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Culture Clash	By : Makkoska Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 7770 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Quite unfortunately, I do not own Wow, I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: I wanted to post this chapter for ages, but RL caught up to with me, and just had the chance to finish. I hope to be out with the next one much sooner.
Hope you will enjoy.

7.

‘Behind you!’
Zangah ducked in a heartbeat when she heard the elf shout out. The blade of the Wastewander bandit swished above her head. She rolled forward with the same movement, dropping her bow and groping for her short battle axe, ready to fight hand to hand. She spun around, but the brigand had already fallen down, blood gushing from the deep wound on his neck. The elf pulled back his blade ready to face the remaining attackers.
The two bandits who still stood took a look at their fallen comrades - the one Ardel just executed was the fifth – then turned tail and run. Vengeance was already dashing after them, making any command unnecessary. Zangah quickly picked up her bow and the sixth bandit fall with an arrow in his back. The last one disappeared from her view behind a dune, but the Silthid caught up with him – the human’s death scream made unquestionable the outcome of that encounter.
Zangah collected her arrows and put the thugs who still have any life in them to death. Vengeance returned, her chelicerae and back splattered with blood. Zangah patted her lovingly. The elf came up to her as well, and she winked at him.
He touched her arm where the first attacker managed to strike her. It was a minor wound and would close quickly as Zangah, as a trait of her race, regenerated quickly. He was murmuring something that sounded like a spell under his breath, so curious she stopped herself from telling him not to mind it. Warm yellow light spread from under his hand as he moved it above the gash. Nice, hot feeling spread through her arm then her whole body. Through the gash in her shirt she could see the wound had gone. She smiled at the elf. She valued him as a warrior since she had first seem him fight, and healers she always esteemed highly as they had a skill above her owns. To be both – that was a wonderful combination in her opinion.
‘The idiots thought us an easy prey,’ the elf said smiling back at her ‘but there might be more where they come from. We better keep moving.’ His enchanted breastplate was dull from the dust of the journey through the desert and now spotted with blood as well. With his usually pale face flushed, and green, blazing eyes opened wild with the lingering excitement of the fight he looked smashing to Zangah. It was a pity they were indeed in danger here – she wouldn’t have minded a roll in the burning hot sand right then. She had always found the dangerous thrill of battle a turn on, and from the look the elf gave to her it was no different for him either.
Still, it was not the time or place for that. The closer they got to Gadgetzan the more dangerous the sandy road became. The camps of the desert trolls and ogres could be avoided if one knew where to look out for them, but the Wastewander bandits raided near the town, or at the usual route of caravans where they expected rich booty if they attacked the travelers.
Zangah didn’t know what the seven thugs they fought expected – usually they were smart enough to know that well armored adventurers were not only too dangerous to attack but they never had much value on them either. Looking at the elf sideways she amended that – the plate he wore must have cost a small fortune.
They quickly set out for Gadgetzan. So far they had been fortunate – they had only been attacked once, they successfully avoided any encounter with the dangerous wildlife and had great weather, which meant blazing sunshine, but at least none of the notorious sand storms of Tanaris.
She knew that if their luck held out they would reach the goblin town by nightfall. Where to go from there? She was thinking more and more of Orgrimmar since the elf mentioned it. If she could just convince him to buy a mount and travel through Thousand Needles and the Barrens... She wouldn’t have minded at all if they could drag out their journey together. It was no question of course if he insisted on flying. One – Zangah wasn’t willing to leave her old raptor and new battle pet behind. Two – she hated great heights.
They continued that day without much talking – both of them deep in their own thoughts with their throats raspy from the hot air and sand. Dusk was already falling when they glimpsed the lights of the town in the distance. By the time they reached the gates the impenetrable desert night closed around them. Still, the goblin guards only took a long look at them, and let them through. Zangah knew well that about everyone who looked even slightly willing to spend some money was welcome here.
Despite the darkness goblins were still roaming torch lit streets. Quite a few gave them a friendly greeting – in this time of the year not many people came to the town, and caravans were few and far between, making every single traveler valued.
They stabled Tizza and Vengeance (the stable master gave a wild eyed look at the Silthid, but didn’t object) before heading to the tavern.
Zangah expected the establishment to be empty, but to her surprise there was a group of travelers occupying the best table at the window. Three humans, a dwarf and a nightelf. They looked up at their entrance. She stopped to stare at the party and gave them her nastiest snarl. The biggest human stood up immediately, stepping protectively before a human female. The dwarf picked up his battle axe from the floor while the purple haired night elf seemed to be hushing them all.
The innkeeper appeared between them like a small, green hurricane and tried to herd them to the other end of the room. The elf had taken her by the arm as well, and Zangah had to give up her glaring contest.
By the spirits of all Darkspear, she really despised these folk. No, despise wasn’t the right word - since she had spent three really uncomfortable weeks as the captive of some Alliance soldiers, the sight of any race of the opposing faction, but especially humans and night elves filled her heart with hatred and the tiniest tingle of fear.
About two years ago Zangah had fought in a desperate combat at Ashenvale. They had lost the battle, and the enemy soldiers captured those who were still alive and couldn’t escape in time.
It wasn’t that they had been treated especially cruelly – certainly, any captured member of the so called Alliance would have been put through a much tougher treatment from the Horde (with maybe the exception on the Tauren.)
Zangah had been locked up in a cell with four other unfortunates - three orcs and a forsaken - and had been handled more or less like wild and dangerous animals. They were given raw meat to eat, were poked with spears when wandered too close to the bars and generally weren’t expected to more sensible then a rabid dog.
The undead, who spoke the humans’ language tried to communicate with their guards, but gave up when their captain came in and told her that she either shuts up or she will be put back to the ground, where she belongs, once and for all.
Most of their time as captives had been spent wondering why were they still alive – some were on the opinion they were hold back to get information out of them, but as they were never asked anything, Zangah had rather thought the Alliance just couldn’t make up their mind how to get rid of them.
To chase away their boredom the forsaken had taught them some short sentences and rude expressions in the human language. It had been funny how their guards have jumped when Grom’ok, the biggest and ugliest orc Zangah had ever seen, told them to ‘kiss his green ass’ in their own language.
Three weeks after the lost battle the Horde had attached the base they were held captive and they were freed. Zangah had survived the experience with barely a scratch but wiser when it came to the enemy races. From then on she knew not to underestimate gnomes or dwarfs despite their funny look and that eating raw meat for weeks didn’t do any good for one’s stomach.
On the upside – as she tried to make the best of all situations – since then she could use the curses she had learned every time she came across a wondering Alliance.
She was literally dragged back to the present as Ardel pulled her to their table and gave her an amused look. She imagined how she would tell him the story next time they would be on the road – time made tales like this entertaining, even funny – just to realize there would be no next time.
They sat down and were served by the goblin bartender. Half of their attention on the Alliance group and half on their separation the next day, conversation was stifled. Obviously afraid that they would provoke a fight, the goblin tried to kept them entertained. Ardel listened to him intently, so Zangah was left alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t in her nature to brood over things, but she was still grimmer than usual.
She had to admit to herself that she become quite fond of the arrogant elf. It even crossed her mind to leave her raptor and Silthid temporary behind and take a flight to Orgrimmar with him to spend some more time together. It was of course ridiculous – not only would she create a lot of inconvenience for herself probably for nothing, but she really, really despised flying.
A goblin barmaid brought their dinner and drinks and Zangah forced her thoughts away from the upcoming goodbye. The group at the other side of the room was making loud and galling remarks, as far as she could tell about their eating habits. From the way the elf was frowning at them, probably he understood their language much better than her.
‘Hey elf,’ she touched his arm lightly ‘what da ya say, shall we give a hard time for our friends over der?’
He raised an expressive eyebrow. ‘What do you have in mind? You know the goblins would have a fit if we provoked a fight here.’
‘Not a fight,’ she grinned at him ‘just don’t let ‘em sleep dis night. Make sure we’re loud enough…’
His other eyebrow rose as well and his gaze on her become heated. Zangah shivered from head to toe from that look.
‘Sounds like a good idea for me,’ he replied evenly, though his face was flushed a bit, belying his calm tone.
‘Den tuck in elf, you will need your strength tonight.’
One more night then before they said goodbye. She vowed to prolong it as much as possible, and make sure the elf would never forget it - forget her. And well, she thought, hiding her smirk with a raised cup, the Alliance scum would remember it as well.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Culture Clash