Bob the mouse
had never really thought much about anything in life. He had never contemplated
the futility of his existence, what the point might be to their circular route,
or indeed if there was one at all.
No, Bob the
mouse was far too busy with his task: Follow
Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse on her
patrol route. Then, when the day is done, retire to the hovel and sleep with
the other mice. It was a good life, a pack life, a family that no one needed to
question, and no one ever thought of taking from him. In short, Bob was a happy
mouse.
So the pack
followed their fierce leader; they went up the Smuggler’s Run, and down again.
Up the Rum Quarter, and down again. Bob looked forward to stopping behind Dead Man’s Tale, where Hands the monkey
often kept a rotten fish aside for him, on a Wednesday.
Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse
had found Bob just as his life was starting, and yet again so close to ending.
You see, Bob was the runt of the littler. Rats and mice are not fond of runts,
and his mum had already decided to serve him for dinner to his strong siblings.
She had been washing the pots ready to throw him in one, when Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse’s
hand had come from the sky, like some legendary titan or another, and plucked
Bob from his grim faith. That hand drip fed him goat’s milk until he was
strong, it stroked him when he shivered at night, it shooed away the bigger
mice in the pack who bullied him. For a long time, Bob worshipped The Hand. It took years for Bob to
realise that the hand was attached to a bigger body, and by then he was one of
the biggest in Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse’s
mice pack. Bob was proud to be by her side. Wherever Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse
went, Bob would be there, come hell or high water.
It started with
the faint, distant, sound of barking mastiffs. It wasn’t their usual morning
greeting to one another, it was an alarming sound. Bob heard that horrible,
final whimper. And then there was silence. Intruders. They had killed the first
guard and were heading for Sky Capt’n Kragg! But Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse
continued their route, so Bob faithfully followed.
YER
DOOM BE AT HAND
YOU
DISPUTE MY HONOUR?
They heard Sky
Capt’n Kragg yell.
GUESS
I… BE OFF… TA THE LOCKER…
Those were the last words the residents of Freehold heard
from their fierce captain.
Bob and the other mice took their steps carefully around
their route, their leader didn’t seem to mind or notice the fires, lightning
and howling that came from the Smuggler’s Run, that could be heard up at the
Rum Quarter and beyond. The mice looked up at the sky and missed Sharkbait’s
reassuring shadow over them, wondered if the faithful bird had also been lost.
Bob would later ponder on how they should have burned
down the rickety vine bridge. It wasn’t until it was too late, that they saw
the dust of battle draw closer, across the bridge as Irontide Enforcers ran
pursuit of the intruders, and were mercilessly cut down. Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse
was now on high alert, she and the mice carefully looked left and right on
their route, to try and locate the intruders.
They had come
across the bridge into the Rum Quarter, but where were they? Behind Dead Man’s Tale? Maybe. Wouldn’t Jill
and Venrik have cried an alarm? No matter, they had shut the door and were
likely staring out as terrified as the mice and their mistress as they
approached the inn.
It happened so
quickly that Bob wasn’t sure how he got out alive. Maybe it was Hands, how he
grabbed him by the scuff of his neck and held a finger up against his monkey
grimace. Maybe Bob had subconsciously tried to edge closer to his friend,
unaware he was aware of the impending doom.
WE
NEED FOR COUNT
WHAT,
REALLY?
YEAH
WE’RE ONLY AT 50 PERCENT
THESE
ONES THEN
Through mouse squeaks and bigger-mice screams Bob
listened as his beloved mistress and his pack were cut down. Hands had put an
arm around him, and was holding him tight. The massacre was over before he
could ponder on the senselessness of it. He watched as the humanoids, with
their shiny armour and so powerful spells, walked by them ignoring them
completely. They headed to the Captains’ Council.
Bob had no chance or time to avenge Big-Mouse-With-Long-Face-Fluffy-Tail-That-Also-Rides-A-Bigger-Mouse
that day. He vowed to search the corners of Azeroth, looking for this “Count”
the humanoids had killed his family for. He vowed that from that day, until his
last, he would never cease searching: until he had found this evil overlord and
slain Him, or had died trying. Where his little heart had held contentness,
gratitude and love; it now held hate, vengeance and ire.
This isn’t the last time we see each
other. He told the adventurers
quietly. We will meet again.
This post is based on the Blizzard Activision World of Warcraft IP, I do not own or claim to own any of the related IP. Just some fun fan fiction for all to enjoy.. Originally posted on https://www.reddit.com/r/wow/ . You can find me on there as u/Khisla.
