Outlands: It begins

I once overheard a Mage discussing the actual workings of teleportation. She said she used a little, green frog. She would place the little guy on a pedestal on one side of the room and move him to the next through a small portal. She watched him closely, she said. So close, she saw the actual working of her portal..

She saw the frog torn apart.

It worked in segments – first the moisture and hair from the skin, then the skin itself, then the muscle, then the internals, then the bones. On the opposite side of the room, where the frog came out, she said he just appeared. The was no re-forming process as the frog came out of the portal; he just appeared in perfect condition

It was like, she said, the opening of the portal was crude. The opening was created by the Mage. It ripped into another place - a place where the magic users of our day don’t understand. They know HOW to get there, but they don’t really know where THERE is.

She said that the end of the portal, the one at the arrival point, is perfect. Mages, she said, don’t make the arrival portal.

The frog comes out of the arrival point in a much more dignified fashion. There’s no re-piecing, no re-forming. The frog just hops out and all is well for him. For all she knows, he doesn’t remember going in the opening of the portal. He just remembers suddenly being on the next pedestal. The Mage said she had asked a priest friend of hers to follow the frog on his voyage, but contact was lost once the frog entered the opening portal. All the priest heard before “losing” the frog was the whisper ‘Gwirn.’ They still hadn’t figured that one out.

She said Mages don’t make the arrival point. They don’t really know who does. They cast a spell that teaches them to visualize their destination. They hold that thought and imagine grasping the strands between the places of things. They take those strands and tear them apart. She equated it to grabbing a piece of cloth in the middle and making a hole. Step through the hole and you’re on the other side.

The opening is a tear. Mages can see the jagged edges on the sides. The can see the effects on people when they walk through the opening. They watch them exploded into chunks.

Then, they watch them walk out the other side. They walk out the perfect hole at the arrival point.

She chuckled when she said this part – she gets tipped to make people explode. People pay her to kill them and they don’t even know it.

The Dark Portal is something else entirely.

He had trudged from the Swamp of Sorrows, following the hum from the monolith to the south and east. It was a low pitch hum, not unlike a purr from a large catch, but at the same time, it never fluctuated in it’s pitch or pressure.

It was eternally there in the Blasted Lands. Right on the edge of hearing, it hummed, never waning.

He crested the rise and it stood before him.

It was tall. Easily as tall as the towers near the Warsong camp, topping nearly twenty meters. A short series of stairs led up to the entrance and the portal itself was flanked by twin statues. Their backs to the wall, standing to the side of the portal, they watched those who approached and went through its rippling surface.

Breathing deep, the magic from the portal and smell of demons around him filling his lungs, taking it all in, Orkwar stepped down from the rise and made his way to the Dark Portal.

“Hail, Warrior!” came a shout above the hum.

In his steps towards the portal, Orkwar had not noticed a small camp set up around the perimeter.

“Well met,” Orkwar answered back.

“I am Warlord Dar’toon,” the Orc said, thrusting his arm out.

Orkwar firmly grabbed the forearm of the Orc. “Orkwar of Warsong,” he replied.

“You’re going through,” said Dar’toon, nodding towards the portal.

“I am,” Orkwar said, returning his gaze to the portal.

“Be wary, Orkwar of Warsong. For years the Dark Portal loomed silent... forgotten. But it is silent no longer. After stopping the demonic assault here, our forces breached the portal and met the demons on their own ground! Now, we are locked in a savage war, and there are some who think we might not win. So it is our duty, our grim pleasure, to battle the fiends of Outland and ensure our victory, Orkwar. If you would help us, then report to Lieutenant General Orion at once. He awaits you in the Outland...”

The Warlord stood back and sighed, as if he had repeated this many times. Still holding Orkwar’s foreman, he pulled in tight and spoke closely to Orkwar’s helmet.

“Be warned,” he said. He was close enough that Orkwar could smell the Orc’s breath. It was tinged with the scent of magic, as if it was stained into the Warlord’s very being.

He continued, “Outlands is not home, Orc. It once was, but it is no more. There are things there that you have never seen and are not prepared to see alone. Fight with allies at your side, Orkwar of Warsong. Fight with them at your side and you will conquer Outlands.”

The Warlord released his grip and stepped back. Saluting Orkwar, he turned and made his way back to his station.

Orkwar watched him walk away. Still facing the portal, he turned to survey the wall of red rock behind him. Over that wall was the rest of Azeroth. He knew Azeroth – knew it very well. It was an old friend.

The stone in his pack spoke, “Orkwar, are you at the portal?”

Reaching into his pack, Orkwar touched the Speaking Stone with one finger. He said, “I am, Thog. I am standing on the steps.”

“Are you frightened, little Orc?” Orkwar could hear the Rogue’s smile. “It only hurts a little bit.”

Orkwar chuckled. He knew the rest of Rend Fate could hear the dialogue and that they were probably silently getting a laugh as well. Ever since his time at the Bloody Tavern, listening to a less than sober Casivixia talk about mage portals, Orkwar had been reluctant to use any kind of teleportation. He had never used a Warlock’s summoning before and knowing Locks, it was probably worse than the mages. He considered asking Orko one of these days.

But he had heard that the Dark Portal was the worst of them all. It was pain beyond imagining and it felt eternal. Some even said using the Dark Portal had driven friends mad.

Sniffing the air one last time, Orkwar placed his armored boot on the first step. He could feel the vibrations from the stone. He took the steps one at a time until he was level with the portal.

It was even larger up close. It was unlike the mage portal. He could not see the exit, just a vast expanse of stars. The portal was tinged in green and in writhed as if in agony. It was easy to imagine this being created by demonic powers.

Turning back to face the Warlord, Orkwar saluted. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to the portal and strode in.

Compared to the Dark Portal, Orkwar envied the little, green frog.