Working in Stormwind: A Warcraft Isekai

The next morning, Jess entered the Slaughtered Lamb, greeted Zare Moor, and headed down the steps to the basement as usual.

He had come to tell Gakin, or whoever else was around, that he was leaving for a while. He would be gone for almost two months. He couldn’t simply disappear without a word.

Beyond the barred door, Galdes was sitting in the main hall again. The man never seemed to have much to do. Five days out of seven he was down here reading and drinking tea.

”Galdes, could you tell Gakin that I’m going back to Lordaeron for Winter Veil? You probably won’t see me for a while.”

”Are you coming back?” Galdes asked.

”Of course. Why wouldn’t I? I’ve still got so much to do in the Mage Quarter.”

”We had a member who said he was taking a long journey last year. He left and never came back.” Galdes looked at him. ”He was the most gifted of all of us. I doubt even Gakin or I could match him. Gakin was very upset when he left. You remind me of him, Jess.”

”I’ve never heard of anyone like that. Nobody’s mentioned him to me.”

”There was something mysterious about the man from the start. I almost felt he was bound to leave us sooner or later, though at the time I thought I was imagining things. Ursula had only just joined when he went away, and Erlan had been here about as long. As for the rest of us... I don’t think anyone likes talking about him.”

”Can I ask his name?”

”There’s no harm in that. It probably wasn’t his real name anyway.” Galdes said, ”Mor’zul. From his accent, he didn’t sound like a native of Stormwind. He claimed he’d come here to work and earn money, just like you.”

Mor’zul?

If it was the Mor’zul Jess was thinking of, then he certainly knew who the man was—at least in the game.

In the original level-sixty version, Mor’zul Bloodbringer was the NPC involved in the warlock epic-mount quest. He stood at the Altar of Storms in the Burning Steppes, waiting for players to collect materials and help him perform a demonic ritual that would reach into the Twisting Nether.

He was a deeply mysterious NPC, a man in black robes standing there without a past or future.

Still, the idea that he had once been connected to Stormwind’s underground warlock circle didn’t surprise Jess. The altar built by the orcs wasn’t that far from Stormwind. It was only difficult to reach directly because of the mountains between them.

And the Altar of Storms itself was a ritual site that gathered magical energy. The orcs had built it in Azeroth precisely to collect the power of local ley lines, so Gul’dan and other powerful orc warlocks could draw on that power to summon demons or cast terrible spells capable of changing the course of a war.

This story actually lives on the site its author publishes on. This copy was scraped and reposted without permission.

Jess thought he could guess why Mor’zul had wanted to leave. Perhaps the little group in this basement had offered him no future. Staying here and wasting time with people content to drift along would never let him master shadow magic.

So he’d left to find a more powerful source of magic—especially shadow magic—and to pursue greater power and deeper, more frightening spells.

The Altar of Storms in the Burning Steppes would have been a good place to go. With the orcs of Blackrock Spire and the Dark Iron dwarves fighting endlessly, and before the black dragons arrived at Blackrock Mountain, most of the camps and structures the orcs had built across the Burning Steppes had been abandoned. Apart from roaming fire elementals and native beasts, there was no one guarding them.

Maybe Mor’zul had spotted his chance and decided to take the risk of claiming the whole altar for himself.

That would also explain why, more than a decade later, after the Scourge War had ended and the timeline reached the level-sixty era of World of Warcraft, the warlocks in Stormwind were still ordinary people teaching shallow spells, while Mor’zul could communicate with distant realms of the Twisting Nether and tame the terrifying Xorothian Dreadsteed.

They weren’t even in the same league as spellcasters.

Come to think of it, was there any chance of summoning a dreadsteed here?

”I didn’t trust that man.” Galdes’s voice interrupted Jess’s thoughts. ”I thought every other word out of his mouth was a lie. Perhaps his leaving was the best thing that could have happened to us. Gakin thought he was an artist. I thought sooner or later he’d bring trouble down on the Slaughtered Lamb—or, rather, on our Dagger Society.”

His eyes turned unusually serious.

”Jess, there’s something else I need to say. Wherever you go, wherever you intend to travel, don’t discuss anything connected with the Dagger Society. That’s our understanding. Our rule. One of my most important jobs here is to make sure outsiders never learn about our activities. Believe me, Jess: if someone outside finds out we exist or learns what we’re trying to do, I’ll find out who told them very quickly. And I have the ability to make that person disappear forever. Whether it’s Gakin, Surena, Ursula... or you.”

”The same goes for Mor’zul. But nothing has happened since he left, and I suspect that’s because his own dirty secrets are far worse than ours. He has no choice but to mind his business and keep away from us.”

Jess nodded. ”Of course I understand, Galdes.”

”Good, Jess.” Galdes nodded in return. ”I like you very much. I’m glad you chose to stay. If you never come back, I’ll regret it, but I won’t stand in your way. Just don’t let our relationship end in a way none of us can deal with.”

When Galdes said he liked him, Jess didn’t feel appreciated in the slightest. He felt distinctly uncomfortable.

For all he knew, this man might be an agent of SI:7, an underground rogue, or an elite member of some assassins’ guild. Maybe he’d come to the Slaughtered Lamb just to have some fun. Maybe it was only his hobby.

Jess had the feeling that Gakin had joined this place out of love for forbidden magic and a desire to find people who shared his interests. The man in front of him, however, treated the whole thing as a serious undertaking.

”Don’t look so nervous, Jess,” Galdes said. ”I’ll let the others know you’re leaving for a while. Wherever you go, I wish you a safe journey.”

How was Jess supposed to stay calm? A man whose background he knew nothing about had just said he could make him disappear whenever he liked. That was a death threat, plain and simple.

When Jess finally left the tavern, he felt as though something had tied him to the Slaughtered Lamb. Had Galdes secretly placed some kind of binding curse on him?