World of Warcraft Original Fiction - Part Two of Hari's Story

This original World of Warcraft fiction story is part two of the adventures of Hari, set in a WoW scenario of the future. Hari is stowing away in the engine room of a spacecraft, and needs to survive.

Can Hari get food from the goblin?

Part Two - the Kill?

Hari had identified a possibility – a gap between a massive silver pipe against the wall to his left. He watched, now, as the bots patrolled back and forth, waiting to see if he could make a dash for it without being sensed. He watched for some time, forging their mechanical routes into his brain so that the timings of the gangway would become clear. Bot One (as he called it) walked away to the right. Hari could advance on its fifth step to a point some eight paces away, then would have to make an immediate left to avoid Bot Two. He would then need to wait for Bot Three to swivel away in its turn before dashing straight for the pipe and scrambling over it. Behind the pipe, he hoped there would be gap enough to stretch out fully. More than that, he hoped the pipe would be warm.

Hari was beginning to get dangerously chilled. He had been frozen on his spot for some time now, long minutes passing as he watched the bots’ threatening dance with calculating intensity. Once he moved, he was committed – one wrong turn, one mis-timing, and he would be dead. Over and over again he watched his opening arise and let it pass, rehearsing his route mentally. And the time was coming when it would be now or never. The cold was starting to seep into his bones. Soon it would cause him to stiffen and slow; his movements would become awkward, unacceptably increasing his risk factor.

Now! It passed in a gut-wrenching minute, his heightened senses making everything stand out with a solid clarity rare to experience. Then he was rolling belly down over the pipe, relieved beyond belief that the pipe was not freezing to the touch but oh-so-faintly, warm. Behind it, hari fell into a darkened, dusty space. The gap between the pipe and the wall was wide enough for Hari to slide through, and then it widened under the curve of the pipe to offer space enough to sit and lie comfortably. The space was bounded on both sides by steel girders that held the pipe in place and reached right to the ceiling of the engine house. It was about eight feet long, and there was no access to it except between the pipe and wall; a space too small for any of the bots, and beyond the reach of any sensors. The floor was covered with thick dust and small bits of debris. With this to cover him, and the faint warmth of the pipe, Hari might even survive another day.

He had not slept properly for fifty hours. First, he collected as much dust and debris as he could and made it into a pile. Then he wedged himself half under the pipe. Debris already under the pipe blocked the narrow gap between it and the floor. Hari pulled the pile towards him, covering his body with it but taking care not to cover his face. He then lay very still, feeling his mind relax for the first time in days. He was pretty sure the pipe and his insulation would raise his temperature to something bearable, and after a few minutes he began to feel a most agreeable physical sensation, a warming relaxation that led to sleep.

Hari slept for a long time. When he awoke, he swallowed the last of the water in his waterskin and ate the last of his cheese. Where on earth was he to get more food and water? There would hardly be a vendor down here (though stranger things had been known). Nor would the bots carry food since they ran on oil and petrol, and...water. Also, water ran through some of the heating and cooling pipes, although some carried gases. So there must be a water source, or ways to get water, down here. But Hari would need to move, to search, to investigate.

But moving was dangerous. Every inch of the floor space was a hazard. Hari pulled himself up so his head poked over the top of the pipe. Everywhere he could see pipes, boilers, engine consoles and other parts of machinery he could not identify. Black bots patrolled, whirring busily, in complicated patterns. Worker bots stood still at the consoles, busy inputting information. And then he saw it – a small, white-jacketed figure – a humanoid. It was some kind of goblin, an engineer or a scientist, but what made his heart leap was its level. It was level 6, just one higher than himself.

A possible kill. Better still, a possible drop. What might it be carrying – food, water, gold, perhaps some potions or a magical necklace? Hari watched closely, feeling the saliva race into his mouth as he anticipated his first kill for weeks. He was fed up of scavenging. And despite his lowly equipment, he felt sure he could take on the little goblin scientist and win. He hadn’t forgotten his fighting skills, had he?

He pulled himself up onto the top of the pipe and crouched there. Now, with prey in his sights he no longer felt scared and vulnerable. He was the hunter now. He rocked on his haunches, feeling the tension in his thighs. He pulled his rusty dagger out of his backpack. Rusty or not, it would do.

The goblin was walking around busily, stopping to tak to groups of bots and then moving on. Hari could hardly believe his luck as it moved closer and closer to him until it was directly below his section of the pipe! He dropped. The goblin never saw him coming. Hari was on its back and the knife sliding into its neck in one swift movement. The strike was critical. The goblin was dispatched, dying with a bubbling cry as green blood spurted from its wound. Hari quickly pulled its backpack from its back and took it with him over the pipe into his safe space, where he could inspect his loot at leisure.

By Sabreena

Read Part One of this WoW story earlier on in my blog posts, and watch out for Part Three - what's in the bag? Follow the blog to be sure you don't miss it.

World of Warcraft Story of the Future

This World of Warcraft is set in a not yet imagined expansion of the future. This 700 word story is Part One of a slightly longer short story about Warcraft characters that think and feel.

Part One - Inside the Engine Room

Hari stood very still. The bot came closer and closer, its great snake-like head swaying over him, red ayes glaring. It was six, maybe eight times his height, and made of shiny black metal. Hari closed his eyes and tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as he waited for its sensors to pick him up for the annihilating swipe or stomp. The Engine House bot would kill him with one hit. Hari had no armour, no defence, no weapon, apart from a rusty dirk that would inflict a laughable four or five points of damage. He could hear its motors whirring as it paused above him and looked around, and he wondered if he would feel the pain of the crushing blow before he died. He waited, and waited…but the blow did not fall. Hari opened his eyes to see the bot whirling on its axis and beginning to lumber off in a new trajectory. He had evidently been just beyond the reach of its sensors. He let out a long, trembling sigh, almost a laugh, and for the first time since entering the Engine Room, he sat down. Immediately, he began to feel his strength return. Sitting cross legged, he carefully swivelled round, looking at and orienting himself to all the objects he could see. This one small square seemed to be a safe spot, just beyond the patrol radar of the bots. The DMs had slipped up there, but it was not surprising, they were human after all and humans make mistakes.

Hari pulled his knapsack off his back and took out a lump of pale cheese. He ate half of it, taking care to catch and eat all the crumbs that broke off as he gnawed at it. Then he wrapped it back in a piece of linen cloth and replaced it in his bag. Next he pulled out a small waterskin that was half empty. He could easily have drunk it all, but allowed himself only a small gulp to wet his dry throat and help the cheese go down. He sat up a little straighter, and relaxed. Next he pulled out his dirk and fingered its rusty blade. Such a sad little weapon, he could kill no more than a rat with it. Still, it was all he had, and maybe could be traded for something better one of these days, especially if he could get his hands on some gold to smooth the deal. Not that there was the slightest chance of that, down here. Even if by some miracle he killed an Engine House bot, they wouldn’t be carrying gold, only mechanical parts, valuable in the right quarters but far too heavy for him to carry and way beyond his skill to use. Apart from these three items his knapsack was empty. He had been left with the bare minimum necessary to survive. Even his clothing – a brown woollen tunic, worn boots and leggings – was the lowest available, offering so little protection he may as well be naked.

Once again, Hari took his bearings. To his left was a huge engine shaft and in front of him and to his right a row of command consoles with two Worker bots, non-patrollers, operating them. The gap between them was at a 45 degree angle to where he sat. Hari drew a marker line on the dusty floor with his finger. Then he had a better idea. With the point of his dirk he scratched a circle around himself. There. His safe space was permanently marked out now. This tiny square was the only place in the cavern-like room where he knew he would be safe from attack. A room so vast its true dimensions were impossible for him to make out, the far walls and the high ceiling lost in gloom.

The floor began to shake. The giant bot was returning to him again on its patrol sequence. Although Hari knew it would not see him, he still felt his heart begin to pound, the fear rise in his throat. But this time he forced his eyes to remain open, fixed on the terrifying form as it stomped closer and closer. Its eyes glowed above him, but as before it did not see him; only swivelling around and then turning to go. Hari began to breathe again. He felt the impulse to taunt the bot; shout at it, but he resisted. For all he knew it had sound sensors too. Such foolishness would be a luxury.

Fed now, and watered, Hari had two further pressing needs – warmth, and sleep. Lack of both were combining to bring a leaden quality to his limbs; if he did not sleep soon, his energy levels, replenished temporarily by the food, would drop dangerously low, impairing his movement abilities so much that he would never be able to leave this spot. True, he could lie down and sleep where he was, curled into a ball. But the spot was too exposed; there were many sources of warmth in the engine room but this draughty spot was too far from them all. He would wake frozen stiff. What he really needed was a base in the Engine Room, a little hideaway from which he could venture out to satisfy other needs that would soon become more pressing. More water and food, for example. A single safe square on the Engine House floor may be enough for an inanimate bot, but not for him. Besides, the DMs might change the patrol pattern, or the range specification of the bots at any time. And Hari needed the feel of walls around him, the safety and comfort of being able to shut out the world. He needed a base.

He scanned his surroundings once more. He was looking for small, semi-concealed entrances and exits; gaps between consoles, ducts, vents and shafts. Places too small for the bots to access. Hari knew they must be there, and if he could get to one he might survive a little longer. He peered through the gloom, wishing he still had his spyglass with him, x50 magnification. He quickly put the thought away from him. There was no point in dwelling on what he had lost.

He could see something that looked hopeful….

Further Parts to this World of Warcraft story will be posted soon. Follow the blog to make sure you don't miss them!

By Sabreena 2005