Orc Quest; or, A Critical Examination of Agency Through in Interactive Fiction (Warcraft)

Alterac 13
[X] Proceed in a single force, hitting only the main towns

You were surveying the countryside when you saw Kartha coming up.

"I thought it might be wise to speak with you, after all that's happened." she said.

You smiled, "Despite what Scorn might think, I'd like to hope I'm not completely clueless!"

She lowered her veil, "Perhaps not."

You didn't actually know why she wore the item. Veils or headscarves were far from common among Orcs, and though a few of the more conservative clans like the remnants of the Shadowmoon sometimes were seen with them, they still weren't worn much.

Or was it simply a disguise element? In the modern Horde the Shattered Hand were spies and infiltrators. Where sometimes an Orc might be known by their piercings or tattoos, you supposed a veil or scarf would conceal that.

"We, or I suppose you, find yourself in a delicate situation." Kartha said.

She spoke of the Alliance, of Thrall's likely concerns, of the potential actions of your father, but for the most part you'd already considered it. Still, her thoughts were useful in ordering your own.

"I find myself frustrated that in fleeing such intrigues I find myself in the midst of them again." you said.

"Did you really?" Kartha asked, "I wasn't, nor we in the Shattered Hand, well, we weren't entirely sure whether this whole exile was for true or not. You father gave you supplies after all."

"He did." you acknowledged, "But if I'd wanted to involve myself back at home I'd have gone to my father's schemes. He's never told me much about his plans."

"There's more than you know." Kartha said, "I hardly know of it myself, but both the Burning Blade and the Shattered Hand have greater numbers than in Orgrimmar. Both act seemingly in concert, both report to figures outside the Horde's structures…"

The thought made you uncomfortable so you pushed it away, "Let's leave that aside for now." you replied, "The situation now, first, how do I extract myself from this mess? Say we smash the Syndicate, grab the king, bring him back to Dathrohan, then what would you advise?"

Kartha was winding her veil around her fingers, then unwinding it, playing with the cloth as she spoke, "It depends what you want. Whenever we're sent out in the Shattered Hand, the Elders beat into us 'why, why, why'. What do you want to do, therefore, how do you achieve that with what you have now? You have to decide what you want to do. But I'll say this at least, if you want what we've begun here to continue, this budding respect between the Alliance and Horde, you have to stay."

"Oh?" you'd thought the same somewhat but you wanted to hear it from her.

"Hammerfall, the Warsong remnants, any Blackrock who are still around in Alterac, any of these little groups we've been drawing warriors from in the hills, the Alliance are strong enough to beat them down again now. The Scourge will be driven out in a year or two, and I imagine that before Dathrohan commits to a campaign in Northrend, he'll deal with the threats at home. Otherwise the obvious fear would be for raiders to hit his supply lines while his army is gone."

"Yes, but that leaves the trolls too." you pointed out.

Kartha shrugged, "I suppose so, but do you care about the Amani or your own people more?" She didn't wait for a response, and continued, "You are the champion of our people here, the Alliance respect you, even value you. You can be the advocate for our people, but I suspect they also mean to trap you to an extent. To have you gather all the Orcs in Alterac, then use us as a vanguard against the Scourge when the Northrend campaign comes, or against their other foes. Or, honestly, to use you against Thrall, to sponsor you as another Warchief."

"That has been my thoughts also." you confirmed, "But that doesn't resolve the situation. You say the Alliance will destroy the remaining Orcs without my intercession, but that they perhaps mean to use us to strike at the Horde if we do stay. What then, I can't leave, but I can't stay either."

Kartha shakes her head, "I didn't say that. I just mean that you should be vigilant. If the Alliance want to push you around to their direction, resist that. Dathrohan offered you some position in Alterac did he not? Seize upon it. Claim the clans remaining in this region, rebuild the fortresses, fortify the passes, make it a kingdom for Orcs, not just an elaborate internment camp. If Gol'dir or Drum Fel or someone else stands before you, don't let them, the stakes are high here. Dathrohan doesn't like non-humans, supposedly he didn't like them even being in the Alliance, the elves or the dwarves I mean, is he one to rely on the forbearance of?"

"And yet, if I mean to raise myself so high, I would surely bring the wrath of Thrall down, if we haven't already, if he didn't give Drek'thar orders to fight us…"

"That's a different issue," Kartha admitted, "But the problem is, the more you do to secure our position here, the weaker your position becomes back at home. But very well, onto Thrall… I suppose perception is first. The Elders go on about that too. I think, for the most part, there would be very few at home who'd have any problem with most of what we've done here. We've been part of a war against a clear foe, one dangerous to the world, as dangerous as the Legion certainly. We've fought honourably, won victories, fine victories. That will bring us much honour. The only ones who'd be opposed would be those who still hate the humans, but that sort are usually impressed by battles, so I think even they'd be hard pressed to view this war poorly. Meanwhile, Thrall's faction can't complain either, we've worked with the Alliance plenty, build relations, and still been able to practice our culture, so I don't see what they'd have to complain about."

"But that in and of itself puts Thrall in a dangerous position. If I can sit in peace with the Alliance, even with Kul Tirans, if I can still wage war and fight, why hasn't he?" you ask. "Or at least," you quickly point out, "that is what others will say."

Kartha nodded, still winding her cloth between her fingers slowly, "This will weaken him, and he was already waning. He is Lord of the Clans, but there was always weakness, waiting to be revealed. Forneus perhaps was the first to show it recently, then your battles here. That both are linked to you so prominently is dangerous, and now the Frostwolves…"

She sighed, "You spoke with your father through your flames? Do you have any idea what he'll do?"

You didn't, "I think," you began, "that he would retreat rather than fight. I think that Drek'thar acted, if not alone, at least not in accordance with Thrall's plans. This would have always been received poorly back at home. I have a reputation, no one would have believed that I'd just attack the Frostwolves, which means they'd have struck first, which is treachery."

Indeed, you could feel the fire rising in you now, the anger at the black betrayal of Drek'thar and his followers, "I think my father will take the clan away, first into the tunnels under Orgrimmar, there to either mount a defence, or to steal away. Perhaps to Desolace, I know not, but either way, I don't think he would confront Thrall."

"But he will spread rumours and messages. He has command over such demons does he not?"

You nodded, "And that will perhaps be just as damaging. I don't know- maybe he'd stay, call on Saurfang and the Blackrock to guarantee his safety. If one clan can be assaulted, any clan could be in theory, that may cause the others to close ranks against Thrall. My father may even call up the Circle of Elders, but even if that didn't reach a conclusion, to force such a thing would further reduce the Warchief's authority."

The Circle of Elders was an old institution, but one of less than certain formality. It was from the Old Horde, the Oldest Horde rather. When the Gorian Imperator Molok had tried to seize the power of Draenor's Elementals, and had been destroyed for his hubris, the First Horde had joined together to beseech the Elementals to restore balance to the world. That Horde had disbanded after the Ogre threat was defeated, but the Circle of Elders who had treated with the Elements had remained. In the modern Horde, in theory any chief or shaman could assemble a Circle of Elders to give a judgement on some subject.

Your father, the Elder Warlock of the Horde, certainly had enough sway to assemble such a Circle, and even being called before a body like that would be a poor showing for Thrall's authority.

"It would, and that's bad for us too. I don't think that Thrall himself would actually have much to say against you. You've acted honourably, you've acted in friendship with the Alliance, but his position would prevent him from welcoming you because you represent such a threat, your father represents such a threat…"

You supposed at least the warriors under your command were happy. There were a few groups, firstly the Burning Blade you'd taken from Kalimdor, who were either clan warriors, or Clanless vagabonds looking for adventure. They were easy enough to please, they sought honour, mostly like Scorn did, and wanted to attach themselves to a vigorous chief who could promise advancement. Next were the Blackrock penal warriors, they had essentially been sold to you by the Alliance, paroled into your care, and they felt a debt of honour to your therefore. You supposed you were also a sponsor, for without you, the Blackrock warriors would be declared as bandits on Alliance land and hunted. The last were the Warsong, they had been used to freedom for some time, and you'd taken a hundred or more from the hill clans around Hammerfall and the mountains of Lordaeron, they sought opportunities to fight and gain honour, and no doubt to increase the security of their communities.

You didn't think the Alliance would necessarily just kill all the Orcs in Lordaeron if you departed, but that didn't mean there still wouldn't be a lot of killings anyway. If local disputes like the one in Arathi escalated, Dathrohan would use it as an opportunity to advance his authority, but what then would happen to the Orcs involved you didn't know.

In truth, your own welfare barely came into it. If Thrall wished to heap indignities upon you, to call you traitor or send assassins after you, so be it, you cared not. You fought for things much greater than yourself. For you clan, for the Horde and the Orcish race, but also for the wider security of the world. You had come to the Eastern Kingdoms for that, to serve something of greater might and beauty than simply your own aggrandisement.

But in future, it came down to two priorities, just as Kartha had said. You needn't act on them now, indeed, you were looking out across the uplands of Alterac, but it would become more prominant as you went on, especially if you did as Kartha suggested.

Choose 1:
[ ] Prioritise the welfare of the Burning Blade and unity of the Horde
[ ] Prioritise the continued security of the clans in Lordaeron and good relations with the Alliance


This is an internal consideration by Grok, something that informs his thinking. You'll still get choices later on as you progress through the arc.

Commentary on issues discussed in the chapter is encouraged.

Alterac 14
[X] Prioritise the continued security of the clans in Lordaeron and good relations with the Alliance

As the stone fist reared up from the earth your warriors cheered.

As the fist smashed through the gates they beat shield and axe in clamour.

And as you raised your sword the warband swept in.

You slew as they went, dancing over the shieldwall and cleaving heads from the Syndicate's garrison, and by the time you landed they were already in rout, only to be borne down by Ogres and smashed to paste.

"Keep them controlled." you growled at Vark and he nodded, kicking out one of his clan's knees from behind, bearing the bulky warrior to the ground and striking him across the face with one powerful blow.

It was a small town, but the Warband's advance had seen it flooded with fearful refugees.

A bolt whirled past you but you'd already dodged it, you'd seen the arblaster before they even shot and felt yourself move without conscious thought.

"That building, top floor, go!" you shouted, pointing to the window where you'd seen a flash of steel. "Bring the archer to me!"

A dozen orcs barged in. They had orders, firm and clear orders, not to harm any who didn't bear weapons against you, but you were curious to find out who would shoot even after the main garrison had been routed.

Down the street there was a little castle, really no more than a few rooms within a tall wall, and a squat keep in the middle. There you'd made your headquarters for the day.

You heard shouts coming from the house and soon the orcs returned. There were a small family there, two young boys too small to hold a crossbow, then a larger youth, perhaps three years younger than yourself. The parents were a thin couple, the wife a washerwoman if the condition of her hands, roughened by lye, was anything to say.

The husband though drew your eye. He hobbled on a staff till one warrior pushed him roughly and he fell in the muddy street. The older son cried out and tried to make for him, but another of your warriors pulled him back, holding up a crossbow.

"It was this one, Chief." the warrior said, holding the weapon out.

You ignored the family for a moment, taking the weapon and examining it. It was of poor craftsmanship, even you knew that, and you could feel that the steel itself was poor also. Despite that, the weapon would still kill an orc if it struck head or neck, and at close range it would be effective enough.

"Let them go." you ordered, "Continue on, take that castle."

With a few glances to you, the warriors departed, jogging off up the street, their sergeant bellowing orders.

The old man was still on his knees, though hesitantly his wife came forward to lift him up, one of his young sons giving him back his stick. You saw that one of his arms was missing, his empty sleeve pinned to his jacket.

"Where did you get that?" you asked him in the Tirasian tongue, and if he was surprised, the old man repressed it quickly.

"At Southshore, fighting against your kind." he said.

"Then bear it with honour." you replied, and tossed the crossbow back to the youth at his side. "And that too… Join me, both of you."

You began to walk toward the castle, not looking back. There were whispers behind you, and idly you wondered if the son might try and grab the bolt sticking out of the mud and shoot you in the back, but no, the father pushed his family back toward the home and hobbled forward, leaning on his son's arm.

"Do you serve the Syndicate?" you asked them, keeping your pace slow.

"I served, once, Baron Ademar, who's town this is. But I'm no soldier anymore." the old man said.

"And Ademar serves King Perenolde?"

"Aye." the old man replied, "But I suppose he'll not serve much longer after this…"

You smiled a little, even as you could see your warriors throwing scaling ropes over the walls and hauling themselves up like you'd taught them in Tirasfal. Over the walls they went, and you knew it would be bloodier inside the keep, and soon enough the gates opened and more orcs flooded in.

You talked with them a little longer. The old man wanted security for his family, wanted a peaceful life, wanted good work for his sons, and was quite willing to talk to you once he realised you weren't planning to kill him.

The son meanwhile took more work. He had been roundly chastised by his father, for even if you were dead by the shot, your warriors would avenge you, and it seemed the old man knew it. The son though had ambitions, he wanted to either be a trader or a knight, neither profession being possible at present though.

The people of Alterac, it seemed, did not love the Syndicate. Neither though did they hate them. They saw them as the lawful nobles, and even if they were known to have turned to banditry in recent years, many apparently saw the Syndicate as the only way forward for Alterac. The alternatives, said the old man, were domination by the Alliance and foreign nobles, or likely destruction without the protection of the Syndicate's armed forces, which still consisted of the relatively well armed retinues of the nobles of Old Alterac.

"Yet they have protected you little here." you pointed out, gesturing around you, and the old man huffed.

The keep was broken open like a boar digs for truffles and soon enough your warriors carried out a corpse in bright livery.

"Is this your lord?" you asked the old man.

"His castellan."

You shrugged, you'd ordered that any man bearing arms was to be killed or captured, and your warriors had seen to that.

They carried out all resources of value, all papers went to Kartha to review, which she did rapidly over a fire, burning each page after viewing them. Onto the fire went tapestries, rich rugs and paintings from the keep. Not many, but enough to make a little pile in the square.

"Look here," you called to the townspeople who you'd ordered to assemble, "All your gold and taxes were used for this, and not enough to arm you. Now I stand as master of this town. Will you turn back to the Syndicate now?"

You hardly supposed that they'd flip immediately, but you had to make a start somewhere.

Vark seized the armoury, all the gunpowder and gear, and Zaruk made his way through the little pile for useful reagents for his spells.

There were no criminals in the dungeons of the keep, but you ordered that the gates be broken anyway, and the keep burned and ruined, and in the firelight Gol'dir came up.

"There's a dozen such towns in the Uplands." he said, "But once they hear of this they'll collect their garrisons in the largest."

"I've heard that the Syndicate are jealous of each other, that each bandit-noble will guard their own retinues carefully, for fear of betrayal from others." you replied, "Would the lords tolerate such a concentration?"

Gol'dir gestured to the line of warriors getting ready to leave, packs stuffed with the stores of Baron Ademar, "Will they have any choice? It would take us time to smash each town, especially if we didn't have you at each of them, but they still fear the people, if we kept going about smashing them the people would revolt, the garrisons would take the treasuries and flee."

You didn't quite grasp his point, "So what do you suggest? That I not attack them?"

The Frostwolf shook his head, "Wait till they collect themselves in the largest town, then take the town. You'll need a leader though, a human who'll stand against the Syndicate for you, and one who'll have the legitimacy to persuade the others."

You suppose Lady Prestor might serve in such a function, but Gol'dir had been studying the Alteraci for some time, "I suppose you know such a human?"

"The Bishop, Karlus. He is the chief of the largest Uplands town, and with his backing you'll be able to put fear into the Syndicate, especially if they see their control slipping away. Once they're scared they'll make mistakes, they might separate their army, and we can lead them on a merry chase till we turn and take them!"

You considered the suggestion. It was good, you had to admit. The alternative might be to simply leave the towns to their own affairs, but that wouldn't serve your aims. You want to get this over with quickly, not spend months in play and counterplay against the Syndicate. On one hand, Karlus would be able to unite the Alteraci, but on the other, if you just left the towns as they were, the Syndicate might garrison them again and further bleed away their strength.

Choose 1:
[ ] Adopt Gol'dir's plan, attempting to gain Bishop Karlus' cooperation against the Syndicate
[ ] Reject Gol'dir's plan, simply leaving conquered towns to their own affairs