The heat, the glimpse and the Fish.

'Twas a cold night in July. Or perhaps a rather hot one. Come to think of it, it wasn't even during the night-time. More like noon. Damn, where did I put my notes? Oh, goodies, found them. All good then. Yes, indeed, an amazingly hot day in June. One of those days you'd rather spend near The Loch, lying on the grass with a cold drink and a book. Unfortunately for me, a nightelf had insisted that I should kill fire elementals instead. Funny how killing seems to be the elven solution to every problem. I suppose that's why you don't see many nightelf kids running around in Darnassus.

So, there I was, sweating like a pig. Come to think of it, my pig companion, Mr Wiggles, didn't seem to mind the heat at all. I suppose the correct phrase would be; sweating like a gnome whose most powerful artifact just so happened to a very, very thick robe made of very, very thick wool. As the day continued, the wool kept absorbing my sweat. Since I was pretty much sweating like a waterfall on a rainy day, the robe kept getting both heavier and warmer. I was smelling pretty bad too. Even Mr Wiggles kept covering his snout near me.

In the end, I didn't even care about the twenty silver the spoiled nightelf had promised me. I collapsed on the dusty ground and had to close my eyes as the burning sun blinded me. I quickly conjured something to drink. At that moment, I hated nightelves more than ever. I also hated fire elementals, heat, heavy wool robes, and the whole damn Stonetalon Mountains. I remembered what the nightelf had told me. "Oh, lookit dat, you amazingly handsome gnome. Stupid me tinks dat charred vale be very, very corrupted since me tiny elf brain can't comprehend that the whole god-damn reason it's charred... Is that it's so freakin' hot that no tree would ever grow more than five inches before spontaneously combusting to ends its own miserable existence in this miserable place of utter and complete miserable misery."

Okay, I admit, maybe that wasn't precisely what she said. She probably said something proud and snobby like most nightelves, but the meaning was the same.

Then, for a moment, life seemed worth living again as tiny drops fell on my forehead. I gave a relieved groan as the rain fell on my head. I didn't really dare open my eyes. Chances were that I was just dreaming, and if so, I really preferred to stay asleep. Instead, I opened my mouth to taste the tiny priklets which now seemed the greatest gift I could ever have. It didn't rain all that much, just a drop every now and then. However, even those tiny bits were enough to give me renewed strength. Plus, the fire elementals would be weakened in this weather. The rain would make my robe amazingly heavy, but I didn't really mind. At least it took the sweat away. I opened my eyes.

Now, perhaps I should tell you something about myself. In my younger years, I grew up in an inn. There, I heard tales from warriors who, after a few kegs of ale, always seemed to have thousands of stories. Most of these were about the horde. However, since these stories were usually told by fairly drunken people, they were greatly exaggerated. If a man had slewn a baby orc in its sleep, the story would usually contain details of just how dangerous sleeping baby orcs can be. In fact, in this particular case, the patron told us that he spend six hours battling the fiend. When the sleeping baby was finally slewn, the whole of Azeroth cheered his name, he married the prettiest princess in the world and rode into the horizon carrying his many riches. When he'd finished the story, he realized that he didn't have enough money to cover his bill, and ran away when nobody was looking.

Therefore, I grew up thinking that the horde was a group of amazingly powerful grunts, their strength rivalling the greatest of gods. It seemed logical that these evil creatures could (and would) destroy whole cities with a flick of their cursed, demonic, hell-bred fingers.

That's why, when I opened my eyes and discovered a tauren drooling on my face, I screamed and began fleeing. Had it been a normal foe, I would have gotten away fine, but since I panicked a bit, I only got five feet away before ramming face-first into a charred tree. Shivering with fear, I fell to the ground and looked back on the demon. It began walking towards me, waving at me. I closed my eyes. Didn't really expect to open them again.

I did, however, as the creature began grunting. I looked into its cold eyes, trying to find just a flicker of mercy. I saw none. I wondered what to do. Should I die fighting or try to relax in these final moments of my life. I didn't want to die yet. I had fire elementals to kill, a piglet to feed and a skull in my bag. However, it seemed that fate had finally caught me, and it's stone grip was now ready to rip my soul into the afterlife. The tauren reached behind his back. No doubt to find it's weapon.

It scratched its butt. Then it sat down next to me, clumsily trying not to sit on its own tail. I was flabbergasted. What kind of joke was this? It placed wood in front of us and tried to use some flint to start a fire. It didn't work. It said some grunts which I believe must've been curse words before growing annoyed at the rocks. Scratching its butt with one hand, it threw the rocks away. Instead, it took some fish from its bag and began eating them raw.

Confused as I was, I couldn't see a perfectly good Westfall Slitherskin Mackerel go to waste. I flicked my fingers at the wood and fire quickly blossomed. The tauren seemed impressed by this and clapped its hairy hands. That was one of the few rare moments when none of its hands were scratching its butt. It took another fish and handed it to me. I pointed at myself trying to verify what I was seeing and the creature nodded. Hesitating a bit, I accepted the gift.

I take pride in being a great chef, but this fish was beyond anything I've ever seen before. Even I could sense the magic in it the moment I took it in my hands, yet I had no idea what species it was. The fish seemed to transcend any archetypes, and save for fins, it looked nothing like any other creature. It was as if it insisted on breaking every single evolutionary theory. It was red and yellow, a colour which would never help it survive in any known waters. What kind of fish would trade in its chances of survival just to be deviant?

I started to take a bite, but the tauren stopped me. It shook its head and placed the fish in my backpack instead. I pondered if maybe the fish was a bomb or something, but decided against it. There was no way that this half-cow creature could ever figure out how to make something like that.

My ideas about the mighty horde warriors were starting to change as I watched this utterly ridicules, butt-scratching bovine chew through its rations. As I said, I grew up in an inn and I've watched a lot of people eat. I've seen starved people throw themselves at piles of food and use their hands as shovels to smash the food into their mouths. However, that was nothing compared to this beast. A whole fish was gone in two bites. Head, bones, tail, all was digested by this creature. After having eaten countless fish, the creature farted, scratched its butt again and got up. It waved at me as it left.

I was left mortified. This creature obviously knew no prober eating habits. As for the limits of its powers, it didn't even seem able to light a fire. I was about to dismiss all rumours about the horde's strength when I remembered the fish. I drew it from my backpack and glared at it. It certainly had magical properties, no doubt. Not even a properly cooked sagefish contained even a glimmer of what I felt inside this fish. I took a bite.

Nothing happened. I watched my reflection in a small dagger I was carrying, but nothing had changed. I took another bite. The fish itself was rather tasty, but apparently its magical properties would manifest in its raw form. I placed the fish back in my bag, deciding to save it for further studies. Once again, I looked at myself to confirm that nothing had happened.

Then I looked up and realized that what had transpired. The whole world had grown, feet had turned to miles. I shook my head. This was impossible. It couldn't possibly change the world. The only explanation was that I'd grown smaller.

I once heard that the average person swallows twenty spiders each year by accident. By this time, the bugs around me seemed to want revenge. Or maybe they were just hungry, and a smaller-than-usual gnome was a tasty treat in bugland. I didn't know, and honestly I didn't care either. I gulped a few times as beetles, spiders and ants quickly ran in my direction. Was this what the tauren had planned? That I should be eaten by ants? I was about to curse the trickery before I realized that it wasn't the case. After all, the tauren had told me not to eat the fish. The bugs came closer as I began charging up a fireball. No way that I would go down without a fight.

The first fireball took out a spider. I looked behind me to see a fly flying at me just above the ants. I smiled. The ants were squashed before they even noticed the giant sheep falling down on them. I turned around again and eyed a beetle. A fireball was enough to blow off its wings. Two were enough to kill it. The bugs were getting closer, though, and I prepared myself to freeze them in place. It seemed that my spells still had the same range as before I grew small. Teleporting twenty yards would certainly help me now.

As it turned out, I didn't need to. As a circle of frost grew around me, the effects of the fish wore off. The last spider on the ground looked at me. It took three steps forward, apparently still intending to fight me. Then it stopped and looked at me again. Took another step, looked at me. It seemed as if it knew something had changed the odds, but wasn't quite smart enough to figure out what. I raised my foot, and it suddenly ran off.

I was left almost mortified by these events. The tauren were apparently too clumsy to even use the simplest of firespells, their language consisted of a series of grunts, and even Mr Wiggles seemed disgusted by their eating habits. Yet, the fish contained amazing powers, and even the tauren seemed to understand that. The fish was apparently a common thing for them, something you could give as a quick "thank you for the fire" gift. If that was true, I shivered to think what other powers they had at their disposal.

As I left the place, promptly deciding that I couldn't be bothered to kill more fire elementals, I watched the tauren hoofprints in the grounds turn into those of a wolf. I had entered Stonetalon Mountains with a clear idea that the horde was a brutish, omnipotent bunch of devils. Now I didn't know what to believe. I don't know how big a part the tauren people play in the Horde. Maybe they're the ones controlling the whole thing, maybe they are slaves to the Orcs. I don't know. However, I had gotten a glimpse into the world of the Horde and I didn't know what to think of it.

It's been a while since the last great war against the Orcs, but memories of war still fill our heads with images. Whatever the horde is, I'm not sure that it isn't what we thought it was. Maybe the horde isn't the demonic clan it was when the humans first defended themselves against the Orcs. The creature I'd seen certainly didn't seem demonic. It both seemed powerful and primitive, but no longer evil. However, I couldn't say what had replaced the demons.

I don't think I'll ever understand what the horde truly is. Neither will my children or my children's children. War is the craft of this world, and the fog of war makes it impossible to see what the enemy truly is. Maybe some day, we will have to unite with the horde, but will we ever truly be able to understand them? I don't know. I wish I had just the slightest bits of reliable information, but I don't.

Time to end this article, I suppose. The horde is out there. No doubt that the alliance is close to war with them. How close, I can't say. It could be weeks, months, years before war finally breaks out in our world. We all know this, that might be why nobody ever tries to fully understand the horde. When war breaks out, it's easier to imagine your enemy as a truly evil creature rather than a thinking being.

Bah, I'm just a gnome. I didn't even participate in the wars, who am I to sound smart about this? Leave it to the taller ones to wreck the planet. The heat was starting to get to me and I gestured for Mr Wiggles to follow me back to the nightelf. If anything, I'd certainly earned my twenty pieces of silver.