The Celestial Vow 1 (Patreon)

Welcome to the Celestial Vow, the third Celestial Forge story I am writing (the first being The Celestial Hymn (completed) and Kick the Sphere (active[?])). 

In this story, I want to take a different direction from my other two stories. The Celestial Hymn ended a little too quickly due to ACTUAL randomness and Kick the Sphere also sped ahead too quickly after too many perks started to synergize and led to exponential ends. Also, this is technically a Celestial Bundle, utilizing most of the Celestial CYOAs out there, including things I will make up on the spot. 

I will be preventing that from happening in this story.

That said…

I hope you enjoy. 

-VB-

Tags: NSFW, Warcraft, Third War start, male mc, celestial forge, celestial forge v.2, no true randomness

-100 points at the start of 3,000 words

-VB-

The Celestial Vow

Chapter 1

-VB-

Krazam Stoneweaver grimaced as he let out a ragged breath as he faced the last of the trolls. 

They looked just as bad as he felt: scratched, cut, bruised, broken, and bleeding. 

He tried not to wince as his own broken ribs stabbed him with pain when he breathed in. The light rifle in his left hand felt heavy. The hatchet in his right hand felt like an anvil. 

But he had to lift them up.

Had to keep fighting. 

“So what’s it gonna be, ya sons of bitches?” he spat to the side and grinned with bravado he didn’t feel. His entire body was shaking. He wanted to fall down and just close his eyes. 

But he couldn’t.

Had to keep fighting. 

The last thing in this life he was going to do was not giving up in front of fucking trolls of all things! No, if he was going to die, then he was going to die swinging and shooting like a proper Wildhammer Dwarf ought to do! 

And he wasn’t gonna accept not going out the way a dwarf oughta.

“Come at me, ya beasties!” he roared as he charged forward. 

The trio of trolls screamed as they charged toward him.

The first troll threw a spear at him and he jerked out of the way. His chest flared with pain but he ignored it as he lunged forward past the thrown spear and slammed his hatchet into the bastard’s chest before bringing the rifle up at the second one and firing. 

Neither was fast enough to dodge him.

The first troll gasped before spewing up blood from his ruined neck and chest while the second fell backward without a face. 

But the third troll… 

It screamed as it jumped at him.

Instead of jumping right up at the thing, he backpedaled, grabbed the spear thrown by the first troll, pulled it out, spun it, and planted it right up against the ground. 

The enraged troll didn’t see the problem with its charge. 

The bronze tip of the spear punched right through the thing’s chest right over where its heart should be. It gurgled … and pushed itself forward. 

Krazam grimaced as his already raw hands blistered against the rough spear shaft. 

“Kill yourself!” he shouted. “Kill yourself, ya beast!” 

The troll’s face, already contorted with pain and rage, twisted even further as it reached forward and grabbed him by the face.

Krazam screamed as the beast pushed its fingers into his eyes, and he heard them pop. 

He screamed but held onto the spear to keep it from snapping it under the troll’s weight and push.

The spear shaft trembled and cracked but held on.

The troll … it slowed down. Its hands tried to crush his hand between its hands but it wasn’t strong enough. It lost too much blood. 

And finally, it slumped over to the side, landing on the Hinterlands grass with a thud. 

Gasping and in pain, he still moved. 

With blisters and splinters in his hands, he fumbled around until he felt the familiar shaft of his hatchet. 

He grabbed it, ignoring the pain, and fumbled around… until he found the still living troll’s head. 

“Fuck you,” he grumbled out before he lifted the hatchet up with his tired arms and brought it down.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Each downward strike splattered blood everywhere. 

He felt it on his face, dribbling down and mixing with his blood. 

He felt it on his lips. Warm. Alien. Disgusting. 

He gasped as he made the final strike on this now forever still troll… and moved onto destroy the heads of the other trolls. 

“Only way… to make sure… they don’t get back … up,” he muttered tiredly. 

So… So tired.

But he had to do this. Trolls regenerated. Nothing short of an empty head - or lack of one - can be overcome for these beasts. 

He found the unconscious (dead?) troll, the one that he cut the wind pipe and chest with his hatchet.

Krazom grabbed it by the hairs… and brought his arm up again.

He brought down.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

When the final deed was done, he finally allowed himself to fall sideways, landing on the grass like the troll before him. 

Breathing was hard. 

He couldn’t see. 

… He knew he was going to die but he lamented dying like this. 

He wanted to see the green and golden trees of his home. The beautiful forest of the Hinterlands. 

Dying in darkness like this was … shitty. 

He coughed and felt blood welling up.

With a grimace, he tilted his head to the side. 

He ain’t dying by drowning in blood.

Yeah…

Yeah, this was the best he could do. 

“Wha’e’a…” he mumbled. 

Pathetic last words.

But, well… he’s had a decent run of life. 

He let out a sigh. A long one. 

… Oh, he can’t breathe in anymore. 

So that’s… it then…

-VB-

I woke up.

I groaned as I/Alan/Krazam pushed myself up with my athletic/normal arm.

…

There was something wrong here. 

I sniffed and nearly gagged at the stench on and all around me. What the fuck?

I opened my eyes blearily and looked around.

Oh.

Oh God. 

And then I was throwing up.

That’s when Krazam’s memories decided to hit me. 

I knelt there on my knees and hands as a memory of a man rushed by my eyes and mind. 

And then I watched him die. 

I threw up again.

Then I started crying like a bitch.

---

When I was “okay” enough to get up, I realized three things.

One, I had eyes but Krazam had his popped, a feeling that, like the image of a splinter underneath a fingernail, sent violent shivers down my back. 

Two, I was not injured anywhere else. No broken ribs, no splinters and blisters on my hands, and no cuts of any kind. The clothes, however, hadn’t been given whatever recovery treatment I apparently got. 

Three, I was a dwarf. A Wildhammer dwarf, to be exact. 

I flexed my arms. 

They felt dense. Strong. Powerful. 

Well. 

I rather liked it. Being short was … not bad. Besides, Krazam was just a finger’s width taller than most dwarves. That was good enough. In comparison. 

Okay. 

I was delaying.

I was delaying because I needed to grab the weapons and they were covered in blood everywhere. 

“Goddamnit,” I muttered as I reached down hesitantly and began to pick up both Krazam’s weapons and the trolls’ weapons. Or rather, I used the dull edge of the hatchet to break the useful metals away from the shaft and handles to reduce weight. And as my body worked, my mind wondered. 

Why was I here? 

This was the world of Warcraft, and if Krazam’s memories were correct, then it’s been eighteen years since the Alliance declared the end of the Second War. While Krazam hadn’t been an active participant, he had celebrated with the rest of the Wildhammer Clan.

And the same dwarf’s memories shuddered at the bleak future ahead. 

Even though I, Alan, knew what was ahead, my body and heart, Krazam, begged me to tell him a lie instead. 

Because Krazam wasn’t a brave dwarf… which only made his last stand that much more impactful for me. 

I sighed as I grabbed Krazam’s bag, which he’d tossed to the side before the start of the fight. 

‘But you were cool in your last moment, Krazam Stoneweaver,’ I thought. ‘Even though you weren’t a fighter, you held your ground against a numerically superior and better trained force… and you took them all down with you.’

If nothing else, then I respected the hell out of him for that. 

I dumped everything into the leather bag that had archeological tools and started my journey -.

Ding.

… That didn’t sound natural.

I slowly looked around the forest before I felt something enter my head. I winced as my head hurt for a second… and then I knew something new. 

I just learned how to cast a spell.

“... What the fuck?” I muttered to myself. Thinking about it brought up words in my mind. 

[Celestial Grimoire: Shooting-Type Spells].

My jaws dropped.

Celestial Grimoire? 

I had the Celestial Grimoire?! 

Not only did I find myself on Lordaeron in the universe of the World of Warcraft, which was fictional, I also had the Celestial Grimoire?! 

This was just like -.

Like -!

Like…

…

The leather bag dropped from my arms. 

“Where are my memories?” I muttered to myself in horror. I knew my name! I was Alan Marris! I’m from … 

From…

…

My parents…? Mom and dad…?

Siblings? Did I have siblings? 

I was … what was I doing? 

How did I end up here? 

Why did I end up here? Was I dead? What about my pet? Did I even have a pet? I …

Trembling, I sat down a bit away from the dead trolls.

Even though I knew that I should get away from here, I couldn’t find the strength to move. I… 

I just felt lost and sick. 

I sat there, staring at nothing. 

Time passed without me.

And then a growl jolted me out of my stupor. 

I looked to my right blearily where I spotted a Silvermane Wolf. It was a big thing. Even if I were standing, I wouldn’t be able to see the top of its head. 

I pushed myself up while the mangy dog kept on growling at me from atop the dead troll bodies. 

“Fuck off,” I grumbled as I picked up the bag to leave. 

Then the wolf did something I didn’t expect. 

It took a step closer toward me. 

I paused and glared at it.

“Oh, you think just because I’m covered in blood that I’m an easy meal or something?” I snapped at it, feeling the previous depression draining away and deep and dense lava filling in the gap that the missing depression left. Was this how dwarves felt their anger? A smouldering thing that could not be so easily placated? 

I pointed a finger at it, and in an angry impulse, fired a spell off.

No incantation, no magic circle, or anything fancy. 

Just a burst of mana filled with murderous intent. 

CRACK! 

The air snapped around me with surprising force and I staggered back as winds buffeted me. 

And then there was a thud. 

I blinked as I looked toward the wolf and saw it dead on the ground with half of its face missing and a rapidly growing pool of blood around its head.

“Huh,” I muttered as I brought my hand up. It didn’t look any different than before. Scruffed and bloody. “... Magic.”

I stared at my hand for a while longer before finally pulling the bag’s straps over my shoulders. 

After a last look at Krazam’s final stand, I turned around and left. 

It was time for me to get to Aerie Peak.

-VB-

Word Count: 1.8k

Current Point Bank: 100 points

Perks Gained This Chapter:

Shooting-Type Spells

Origin: Celestial Grimoire, Chapter 2: Destruction

Cost: Free

The simplest and most common spell used in combat. You focus mana into a sphere or ‘bullet’ and fire it at your opponent. Can be used in various forms - homing bullets, rapid-fire, and so on. The ‘big’ spells tend to fall under Bombardment, so take note of those as well. These can be ‘aimed’ by hand, or ‘guided’ by the right calculations in the spell.