This site makes extensive use of JavaScript.
Please enable JavaScript in your browser.
Live
PTR
10.2.7
PTR
10.2.6
Beta
What is in a Name? (Short Story)
Post Reply
Return to board index
Post by
oneforthemoney
He named the dog Winchester.
An unusual name for a dog, perhaps as most would be named spot or puddles. But by all accounts Jonathon was unusual even for a walking corpse (and would sooner cut out his tongue then let such titles as those leave his lips). Still, the truly odd one was the dog that had followed him from the old man’s home he supposed.
Jonathon had, admittedly, been somewhat surprised when the dog had begun to trail after him a respectful distance. At first he had been unsure how to classify the action. Was the dog performing an act of desertion? Broadening its horizons? Treason? It had been rather vexing but he could hardly ask the beast. In the end, he merely chalked it up to the animal following a chain of command that, with its master dead, fell to Jonathon.
It took some time admittedly but the dog had gradually closed the distance between them until they were walking nearly side by side, though the animal still kept a few paces behind the undead. At first Jonathon had been hesitant to feed the dog from his kit, regulations forbidding giving military materials to civilians without authorization. But in the end he recalled he was considering the hound a comrade, and as such was permitted to share his food. It was not as if he would be eating it anyway.
It was for that reason he had begun to call the dog Winchester. The hound reminded him of an old friend and fellow soldier back in the days he lived, though that fellow had been outlived by Jonathon even before the eldest Stark son was yanked from the sanctuary of the grave.
Winchester had been a large fellow. While Jonathon had a compact and wily strength and speed Winchester had been primarily bulk, the large hammer and skill he wielded the weapon with testament to that. Broad shouldered and stern faced, he was even more cold and unapproachable than Jonathon, which in retrospect may have been the cause of their close friendship. They were amiable enough for their tastes with their leave days, the years following the second war by and large relatively peaceful even with the rebellion.
But the coming of the Scourge changed that quite effectively. Countless numbers of the living dead assaulted Gilneas, the promise of fresh blood for their shambling horde motivating Arthas to send their forces on the attack and take all of the Eastern Kingdoms for the Scourge.
But the peninsula nation had preparing for the eventuality of war for years. They were not caught off guard like their neighbour to the south of Lordaeron. No, the Greymane wall froze the encroaching horde thoroughly, the mountains in east and sea to the west forcing the shambling masses to break upon the mighty wall and only that. It could be said that, in attempting to take Gilneas, the momentum of the Scourge was broken and possibly, if inadvertently, saving the lands to the south the assaults of the Scourge.
But even the Greymane wall could not stand against such a horde forever as its rulers well knew. Plans were forged, plans that had dire and at the time unknown repercussions for the nation. Arugal, the archmage who maintained a presence in the still tenuously held Shadowfang Keep, had devised a plan and with backing of king Greymane was prepared to begin. Jonathon, along with Winchester and many other soldiers of Gilnea’s had been under orders to assist in releasing these new living weapons upon the scourge. It had been there that the cause of Winchester’s demise would come.
Jonathon and Winchester had been instructed to escort but one of many wizards tasked with summoning the creatures dubbed ‘worgen’ by Arugal. They would approach the flank of the scourge as they assaulted the wall and release the beasts upon the massed undead there.
It had worked spectacularly. At the specific time the mage, a frail and hawk nosed fellow,Jonathon had been escorting had come forth and conjured an eerily green portal. It was from the depths of this gate that they released the beasts of nightmares. The howling wolf like creatures sprung from dozens of gateways opened along the undead’s flank, unleashing the beasts like a tide of howling fury upon the surprised walking dead.
The worgen had been like savagery incarnate, tearing into the massed horde like a blade through flesh. The sentient beings who had commanded the rolling juggernaut of the Scourge had been shocked by the sudden appearance of the unnatural creatures that were so contemptuously tearing their armies to shreds, their reactions slowed until it was too late. They were caught like a vice between the wall and the beasts, the release of the worgen timed to coincide when the Scourge had committed itself to the attack on the wall. Between the defenders on the walls and the worgen on the ground the undead army soon gave way, those that could fleeing while their fellows too slow bought them time with their screaming demise as they were run to the ground by the humanoid wolves.
It was then, with victory assured and the enemy routed that Jonathon, Winchester and the other Gilnean soldiers were to gently herd the animals back to the mages, where they would be returned to their home dimension once more.
But it had all gone wrong. Winchester had gone first, his longer strides outpacing both Jonathon and the wizard and saving the Stark’s life. The worgen, but one of many amongst the battlefield covered in wounds and gore had turned and snarled slightly at the approaching men.
“Stand back boys, give me a minute.” The mage had instructed somewhat boisterously at the beasts warning growl, pulling back his sleeves like a magician to reveal he hid nothing. The man had been a bit of a showman, but considering what his magic’s had accomplished that day Jonathon let him have his moment.
It only lasted that long. The mage had tried to banish the creatures, arcane words spilling from his lips accompanied by gestures yet to no effect. The hawk nosed man had frowned at the lack of response, surprised and with the hint of concern.
“How odd, it was supposed to make it disappear in a flash of-.” Jonathon never discovered what the flash was supposed to look like, and never would as the worgen having taken that moment to reveal what it thought of the matter.
With an ear piercing howl the creature had sprung at a surprised Winchester, dagger sharp teeth clamping down on the man’s arm. The soldier had screamed in pain at the sudden agony wrought upon him, the taller wolf like creature bearing him to the ground beneath its weight and clawing at the Gilnean savagely as it attempted to tear him to pieces.
Jonathon had stared for a moment, frozen in shock and aghast even as more shrieks filled the air from men and women in similar situations, the worgen turning on the humans as readily as it had the scourge. Jonathon rounded on the thin wizard beside him, the man having developed a pale and wasted pallor at the sight of the betrayal.
“What’s going on?” The mage had shook his head in response to the demand, the words ‘wasn’t supposed to happen’ slipping from his lips like a mantra to defy the scene before him. Winchester screamed once more as the worgen atop him continued to ravage him, forcing Jonathon to return his attention to his fellow. With a curse Jonathon hefted his halberd and charged at the pair.
He was mindful that it was his companion being assaulted and beneath the alien monster. That in mind Jonathon had raised halberd high and smashed the butt of the weapon against the nose of the worgen, as if it were a dog being punished by its owner with a rolled newspaper.
The beast had howled in pain on its sensitive flesh, rearing up and away from its prey and releasing Winchesters bleeding arm. Raising his halberd once more and gritting his teeth in fury Jonathon brought the weapon down once more with a bellowed war cry, this time with the weapons bladed head leading the charge.
The weapon bit deeply into the animals shoulder, as if in vengeance for the assault on Winchester’s arm. Sadly it had embedded too deep and when the animal had jerked away it ripped the weapon from Jonathon’s hands. The worgen reared up before its attacker, snarling and glaring sharp yellow eyes at the Gilnean soldier. As if exposing the futility of his attack, it ripped Jonathon’s halberd from its form and tossed it aside contemptuously, a growl of anger accompanying the action.
Jonathon stood before the towering creature, glaring back without a weapon at hand and the rifle on his back too far away from easy reach. Calmly and stoically with challenging eyes, he waited for the creature to strike him down.
A blast of ice slamming into the beast had stalled the ill intentions of the worgen, forcing the monster back with a bark of pain at the sudden chilled assault. Looking back Jonathon was relieved to see that the mage had recovered his wits, arm outstretched and the spell having been his in an effort to distract the creature.
Nodding his thanks the soldier had hastily reached for his rifle, bringing it to bear just in time to see the worgen leap for him. With a shout of challenge from his lips to the worgens feral howl Jonathon fired his rifle at the animal.
As they collided the weapon was knocked aside, Jonathon having no idea if he hit the creature or not before it was upon him, its arms and clawed hands covered in bestial hair forcing his prey’s to the sides with the scrape of metal against jagged nails. The Gilnean winced as he realized the position, through accident or design, prevented the mage from aiding him again lest he hit him. The worgen opened its mouth to bite at Jonathon’s exposed face, rows of stained yellow and white teeth gleaming in the moonlight as they descended on him.
Only for the animal to be flung off of Jonathon, a bellowing war cry and the crack of bone all he heard before Winchester filled his vision. The man bled profusely from beneath the twisted armour of his arm but he held his hammer all the same, it having been what had hampered the worgens attempts to slay Jonathon. The man hefted his weapon over a shoulder before aiding the other Gilnean to regain his feet with a free hand.
“We have to get back to the wall!” The mage shouted over the din of screams, focusing attention on him once more from both soldiers. At the time, Jonathon had scowled slightly at that.
“But-.” He had begun as he glanced back at across the battlefield for some argument, but saw that any who still required help were well beyond it. The sound of cracking bones and the sight of the worgen ripping flesh off in monstrous jaws would haunt Jonathon’s dreams for some time to come. Those who could be they soldier or mage were fleeing back to where they had started from, a few mages who managed to escape their former charges having conjured a portal and were herding those that survived through while the worgen ‘busied’ themselves.
“Quit gabbing and get going!” Winchester shouted, jolting the other Gilnean from the morbid scene. Jonathon nodded, steeling his jaw. Staying aided no one. At a sprint he, the mage and Winchester fled towards the safety of the portal, leaving the corpse drenched battlefield behind as they stepped through the shimmering rip in space to their salvation.
Once through the portal they were behind the wall once more, eager hands aiding them away from the rift as more stragglers came through
Jonathon could not recall the specific of the events following his escape, the ensuing night having been a blur of faces, words and such as he related his story along with other survivors before various high ranking members of the Gilnean army.
He had not been terribly wounded, escaping with some scrapes from the worgen’s tackle, so had been spared the fate of those who had been. Winchester, along with anyone else truly wounded by the worgen, were being taken back to Gilneas city to be better treated and for further questioning about the incident.
As Jonathon had seen him off Winchester had given him a slight chuckle; arm bundled in bandages and face looking somewhat pale and worn as he boarded one of several carriages there to take him back to the city.
“I’ll bring a good bottle of brandy when I get back.” He had promised before boarding the vehicle and waving farewell.
Jonathon never received that bottle. Less than two days later a patrol had come across what remained of the carriages, overturned and with the horses either dead or missing. There had been one survivor, so he was told, one of the drivers. The king and lord Godfrey both, who had still been present at the wall following the attack, had questioned the driver personally when the patrol returned.
Apparently the driver had died of his wounds soon after being questioned. The attack was attributed to having been performed by a pack of stray wolves.
And now the dog was named Winchester. Jonathon glanced to the dog, noting it looked up to meet the glowing blue gaze of the Gilnean.
Yes, the dog reminded him greatly of his old friend.
Post by
oneforthemoney
I'm not completely satisfied with this installment. Not sure why.
Post by
355559
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
oneforthemoney
That could be it. I felt it may have been a little wooden as well with the way I structured it.
Post by
Mojoworkn
Well, for one thing Money you have a wonderful way with words. It feels so natural to read even though it has a lot of description and action in it.
I would have to agree with your comment though, something about the structure (from the beginning transitioning in to the memory) was odd.
Post by
576272
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Post by
oneforthemoney
I knew I heard that line from somewhere.
I wasn't sure precisely how to make this chapter work as I am trying to avoid using 'in the scene' flashbacks but, rather replaying scenes from his memories. This led to an issue with the beginning of his recollection, as I could not quite figure out how to lead into it fluidly while still making the break obvious. It didn't quite work out and the story suffered for it I'm afraid.
Ah well, every mistake is another lesson. Thank you for your comments Hell and Mojo.
Post Reply
You are not logged in. Please
log in
to post a reply or
register
if you don't already have an account.