The Employed Hero

It has been a few days hasn't it? Well, I have a super-fantastic-extra-long-chapter-filled-with-all-kinds-of-goodness chapter for you all. No complaining!

It's a good one, I promise :P

Onward!

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He returned to the camp swiftly. Claire was already awake, her eyes catching his own as he approached.

“Did I wake you?” he asked her.

He didn't care – or at least he didn't want to care. She shook her head.

“Here,” he said to her while tossing a small bundle her way from his pack.

She grabbed it with a hint of surprise. She unwrapped it to reveal a small piece of cooked venison.

Small by an Orc's standards, anyway.



“Eat,” he announced simply, “we may be able to get to Theramore today if we travel quickly.

The meat rested in her hands for several moments, her head faced to it. Was she lamenting upon the fact they must depart soon as well?



He shook away the thought as she bought the food to her lips. As she ate, he slipped his protective garb upon his body. The metal was cool, yet comforting. He felt safe inside the metallic cage, for the unfeeling armor warded off more than just that of physical malady. He felt it to be an emotional barrier as well, keeping one from squeezing him tightly in a hug or burying one's self into his chest.



Once Claire had finished her meal, they quickly departed. It had begun to rain in a torrent soon after; hard drops of heavy water splashed at Sloane's braided hair and scalp. Something brushed against his thigh. Claire; she was clutching to him in an attempt to avoid the rainfall overhead.

Although every fiber of his logical mind told him otherwise, he curled his large arm around her. Again, she made no move to halt his action.

He both hated and loved it.



They walked for several more moments in silence. At least, it was silence upon the outer end of Sloane's raging mind. His head was a loud torrent as he continued holding the Human girl. Although everything inside of him was screaming to release the hold on her shoulder, it still remained. As if something else refused for it to leave, some unknown force of which he could not comprehend, let alone attempt to combat.



By midday the rain had tapered off. Sloane began to remove his hand from Claire, but she grabbed a hold of it for it to remain. No words were said, but he saw a deep redness grow in her cheeks. Isn't that a characteristic of Human embarrassment? He wracked his brain. Perhaps she felt embarrassed that she relied upon him in this way?



The two travelers continued sloshing through the waterlogged roads of the Marsh for several more hours. Not a word was spoken between the two. Sloane would steal glances from Claire, only to quickly look away when she had noticed. A part of him, a small piece that steadily grew ever since he had first lied eyes on her, wished to stare into those clear blue irises. That minuscule desire had, somehow, became a burning passion.



By late afternoon, Sloane had finally put all of his raging thoughts to rest with one final conclusion. Yes, he thought. He did have feelings for Claire.

But so what if he did? It did not matter; she was Alliance and he was Horde. Human, no less.



Suddenly, she stopped walking. He had almost lost complete balance upon the sudden halt, his mind still filled with questions the way a Dwarven keg is filled with fresh brew. He gazed down at her curiously to see her staring back up at him. She smiled, the waning sunlight upon her face struck her glowing skin.

“Sloane,” she began while taking his heavy arm from her.

With a bit of effort, she removed the heavy glove and held his hand within her two. He contact seemed to bestow her strength, to continue with her sentence. He waited intently for her to finish.

“This probably sounds foolish,” she muttered while shaking her head, “no one has ever, not even my own father, shown me the caring and kindness you have given to me. For that, I am deeply grateful.”

He nodded slowly.

“You are welcome,” he replied to the statement.

She shook her head again.

“There's more,” she said, sending his stomach somewhere at his ankles, “ever since we left that house, I have felt different around you, somehow.”

He furrowed his brow while still focusing upon her.

“As I said, this probably sounds quite foolish,” her words continued on, “in the short amount of time we have been together, added with the fact that we aren't the same faction, let alone the same race.”

Her eyes locked with his.

“But I know it to be truth,” she finished with vigor, “that I have, somehow-”

She took the hand within her own and pressed it to her cheek.

“I have somehow fallen in love with you, Sloane,” she finished shakily, “I needed you to know before we-”



Sloane leaned forward and gently locked lips with her own. She seemed to be waiting for the contact, perhaps for a long while, for she let a shaky sigh escape her lips after he broke away a moment later.

It wasn't enough.

Claire leaned in and kissed him deeper, his hands now ran along her lightly muscled back and shoulders. She felt her own hands wrap around his neck while he slipped into this sweet surrender. He felt emotion begin to bubble upward, but he made no effort to suppress them. They now felt comfortable and warm.

“It sounds equally as foolish to come from an Orc,” he said in a tone barely above a whisper, “but I feel the same way.”

He looked into her watery eyes, finally receiving his secret wish.

“I love you Claire,” he finished the thought while rapidly growing lost within the two pools of vivid color before him.



Something strange began sounding from somewhere, from behind him. Claire's expression changed; she had heard it was well. Clapping.

Sloane broke away from Claire's eyes and turned around, back to the road and the source of the sound. A shining pair of golden teeth met his eyes with a gleaming intensity, as well as two glassy and dark pupils.

“Very nicely done, Sloane,” the Goblin, Hazil, chirped at him, “an impressive show indeed.”

“Know your place, little Goblin,” he shot back to him, anger beginning to seep into his extremities.

“You mean you haven't told her yet?” he continued on, his hands now resting at his sides, “our little plan.”

He stole a nervous glance back at Claire. She didn't appear shaken by the Goblin's accusations.

“What are you spouting?” Sloane replied back with toxicity.

“The truth, of course,” he shot with another large smile, “our plan was for you to escort her here for me to pick her up, was it not? I have to say, brilliant acting on your part.”

His hand reached out and snatched up the small creature by his collar. Despite his situation, Hazil kept his grin.

“You and I both know that is not true!” he shouted into the Goblin's face, “be gone, now!”



He held out his hands in mock retaliation. He did not seem intimidated whatsoever.

“I understand that you could have fallen for her,” he said, “she is one of my best; Tauren, Men, even Gnomes have begged me to let her go to them. I can see where these feelings source.”

A pang of suppressed hurt filled him. There were others that had confessed their love to this woman? Perhaps this exact event took place, with some other man that had stared into those blue eyes in a cockeyed manner?



“I know how she truly feels,” he replied back, throwing caution to the wind, “you will go now. Leave us be!”

At this he laughed; a kind of high pitched cackling that stung at his eardrums.

“I'm afraid that will not be happening,” he muttered, “Hazil always gets what is his, you see.”

A deep rumbling suddenly roared from behind. Sloane's head shot in the direction of the noise, only to drop the Goblin quickly at seeing a large, red tipped projectile speeding straight for him. He grabbed at Claire and lifted her with little effort and fled.

Moments later, a loud boom tore through the relatively calm surroundings of the Marsh, followed by a harsh heat washing over his back. He craned his neck to see fire licking at his heels in the massive explosion from the rocket fired.



He sat Claire beside an old looking tree as another deafening explosion rattled the ground.

“Stay here-”

Her hand connected with his face. He looked back at her in shock to see tears in her eyes.

“You lied to me?” she began while gunshot rang behind them, “I can't believe I fell for such a-”

He placed his hand over her mouth to silence her.

“We can speak of this after we aren't in danger of being caught in a mad Goblin's explosion,” he quickly told her while he stood.

She did not seem to be content with the verdict, but nodded all the same.

“Now, stay here,” he commanded her while pulling his weapon from it's holding place upon his back.



He cleared his head as he left the security of the tree. His eyes caught vision of their enemy, with a confident Hazil standing beside it. It looked mechanical; long, clawed hands and booted feet aided it's rigid movement. It seemed to stare at him through a large brimmed hat upon what resembled a head. Spikes jutted from it's back and stabbed to the skies. Rockets, guns and projectiles of all caliber were mounted on every area upon the mechanical abomination.

“You like it?” Hazil said as he patted the large thing, “snatched one from Westfall; call them Harvest Watchers there. Took only a short amount of time to program it to attack whatever I want it to. Added some nice Thorium plating to it, as well at these babies.”

He pointed a jagged and gnarled looking finger at one of the larger guns.

“Now, enough playful introduction,” he announced while pressing on a few buttons upon some control in his hands, “I will take what is mine!”

At this, the mechanical being sprung to life. It turned to him and ran with a kind of horrific, bloodthirsty stride. It was unnerving despite Sloane's knowledge that this thing was incapable of blood lust.



He held out his axe in retaliation as it struck with a clawed hand. The other was suddenly slashed through the air and toward his neck. He turned his shoulder to the blow quickly, most of the attack being absorbed by his thick armor. Most.



He let out a grunt as the claw scraped along his skin, despite the move to avoid. He felt his blood run from his neck and into his armor. Two additional sharp pains filled his chest as he saw a gun under one of the arms fire. He reeled back and, with a loud war cry, chopped his weapon through the air and to his enemy. Although the axe sliced through the hat with little trouble, a loud clang shook the blade and vibrated within his hands uncomfortably at the contact with the body.



In the moment of confusion, his enemy wasted no time. An additional loud explosion shook him, coupled with a kind of tearing noise. Stinging and aching pain ripped at his body soon after, forcing him to his knees and releasing a bottled breath of air from overworking lungs. His eyes shot down to his armor; a large hole was present in the chest area. He reached beneath the tattered metal and cringed, feeling a large burned area upon his skin.



He attempted to stand, but a heavy blow to his side knocked him back to the ground. His back struck the earth hard, causing his breath to forcibly leave him while his weapon flew from his hand and skittered along the wet surroundings. It eventually settled in a small puddle, far from reach.

“Foolish Orc,” Hazil seethed at him while approaching his bruised body, “I should have known never to trust your kind. Always much too dramatic and headstrong.”

The Goblin looked as though he may spit. Sloane's hands itched to strike him.



He shrugged his small shoulders.

“What's the use of debating it any longer?” He chortled, “I got what I was looking for. May have to punish the little harlot for disobeying me like that.”

The rest of his useless rantings were lost to Sloane's ears as he turned to the tree, where he had first placed Claire at. Anger and desperation leaked into his bloodstream; of something he had never felt within his life.



An idea suddenly dawned upon him. His hands silently rustled within one of his packs and procured an object. The small bomb a strange Gnome had sold him a few weeks prior.

“Just take this special stone, and rub it together really fastlike,” the small voice entered his mind while reaching for the additional object, “and you got yourself a regular explosion handy!”

He cradled the Gnomish invention with one hand while placing the stone against his opposite hand. The stone quickly struck the metal of his glove, a rush of brilliant sparks dancing along his vision and falling in a glittering pattern down to the coiling fuse.



His eyes darted up to see the Goblin was mere steps away from Claire. He struck the stone against his armor again and again, the fiery lights washing over his vision. At last, the soft rushing noise of the lit fuse met his senses. With a grin, he rolled the thing away from him and immediately went for his axe silently.



The distraction was a perfect success. The small object materialized in a loud boom that shook the ground below. Hazil and his creation both halted movement, the Goblin's thin neck slowly turning behind to the source of the disturbance. Sloane would give him no such opportunity.

With one final muster of remaining strength, he charged at the two of them. The axe's hilt jabbed into the Goblin's back, causing him to grunt and be hurled forward and to the soft earth. With speed rivaling that of pure lightning, Sloane grabbed at one of the larger rockets protruding from the mechanical being's body.



With one, livid movement, he jammed the object into it's clothing and swung at it with his weapon. A third, fourth and fifth boom erupted, the first sending him careening backward and away from the danger. Sloane stared upward with a mixture of satisfaction and wonder to see explosion after explosion rock the thing before him, pieces of hot metal launching from it's torso and arms every time a fresh noise reached the Orc's ears.



At last, it was over. With a popping and snapping of unrestrained electricity, it fell onto it's side and was still. Sloane allowed his breathing to slow for a few long moments. At seeing Hazil begin squirming back to consciousness, he shakily got to his feet.



He approached the small being and turned him over with his blade. He looked back up at Sloane with terrified and tired eyes.

“You will leave now, pest,” he said in that acidic tone that always seemed to successfully intimidate, “if you wish to keep your life.”

Hazil got to his own feet with a jump. He immediately fled, leaving the twisted and broken heap of a comrade behind.



Sloane smiled contently. Claire was safe, he thought. Safe, and still free.

The thought accompanied him as the ground rushed to meet his eyes, darkness taking him soon after.