Rise ​of the Horde (World of Warcraft 2.) 13 csillagozás

Christie Golden: Rise of the Horde

Though the young Warchief Thrall ended the demon curse that had plagued his people for generations, the orcs still wrestle with the sins of their bloody past. As the rampaging Horde, they waged a number of devastating wars against their perennial enemy – the Alliance. Yet the rage and bloodlust that drove the orcs to destroy everything in their path nearly consumed them as well.

Long ago, on the idyllic world of Draenor, the noble orc clans lived in relative peace with their enigmatic neighbors, the draenei. But the nefarious agents of the Burning Legion had other plans for both of the unsuspecting races. The demon-lord Kil'jaeden set in motion a dark chain of events that would succeed not only in eradicating the draenei, but forging the orc clans into an single, unstoppable juggernaut of hatred and destruction.

Eredeti megjelenés éve: 2006

>!
Pocket Books, New York, 2006
368 oldal · ISBN: 0743471385

Enciklopédia 8

Szereplők népszerűség szerint

Durotan · Archimonde · Drek'Thar · Kil’jaeden · Orgrim · Thrall (Go'el) · Velen


Kedvencelte 2

Most olvassa 1

Várólistára tette 2

Kívánságlistára tette 7


Kiemelt értékelések

Darth_Revan>!
Christie Golden: Rise of the Horde

Nos, ez a regény tele volt tragédiákkal. Szerencsére ott van a remény szikrája is. Illetve Christie Golden számtalan pozitív karaktert is beletett. Viszont mivel egy előzmény sztoriról van szó, így le van játszva a végkifejlet. Ennek ellenére a Warcaft univerzum rajongóinak erősen ajánlom. Főleg azoknak, akik szeretik az orkokat. Összetettebb volt, mint amire számítottam, ezt az összetettséget a draeneiek testesítették meg. Négy és fél.

Rémálom P>!
Christie Golden: Rise of the Horde

Amondó vagyok, hogy Christie Golden nem tud írni – még egy rendes bérregényt sem. (Aztán lehet, hogy ennyire meg van kötve a keze, nem tudom, csak a Warcraft regényeit olvastam.) Annyira ork kolbász fesztivál ez a könyv, hogy nem bírom – persze, hogy az első Warcraft játék előtti időkbe repülünk vissza, vagy a nem éppen kedves emlékeket idézzük fel a Warlords of Draenorról –, de egyszerűen nem nekem való ez.

Az egyetlen értékelhető dolog, hogy mennyire tragikus a sztori, (tegyük fel, hogy nem ismerjük a játék alapjait, és meglepődünk), viszont nekem ehhez is túl összevissza a történetvezetés és nincs elég karakterizálás, hogy a játék ismerete nélkül én érezzek irántuk valamit. Eléggé darabos nekem, hogy Thrall narrálása vezet fel minden fejezetet, utána pedig hatszázezer különféle karakter szemén át követjük a sztorit, így elveszik a feszültség. Egyszerűen nincs amúgy tetőpont sem, a csatajelenetek megint csak vázlatosan vannak leírva, és a romantikára több idő és mélység van fordítva, mint bármi másra, a három év random ugrás a végén, Shattrath lemészárlása átugorva, megint csak olyan félkész mű érzetét kelti. Meh.

Istvan90>!
Christie Golden: Rise of the Horde

Angolul olvastam el és egyáltalán nem bántam meg. Ebben a könyvben is megvan az, ami az Ősök háborúja trilógiában is, a sok, részletes leírás. Nagyon élveztem elképzelni, hogy én magam is a Horda egy orkja vagyok, és átélem azokat az eseményeket, amiket Durotan és Orgrim.


Népszerű idézetek

Darolyn>!

He, Archimonde, and the others no longer thought of themselves as “eredar.” Velen would call them “man’ari,” but they called themselves the Burning Legion. Sargeras’s army. The chosen ones.

FIVE

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Archimonde · Sargeras
Szelén>!

Durotan kept running and burst into the open space of the meadow, his feet falling again on soft grass, Orgrim was ahead of him, but not by much. Despair washed through Durotan, followed hard by a black wave of fury.
They were not yet adults! They had not gone on their first real hunt, they had not danced by the fire with the females, they had not bathed their faces in the steaming blood of their first solo kills. There was so much they had not done. To die a glorious death in battle was one thing, but they were so overpowered by the hideous creature as to make their deaths humorous rather than honorable.
Knowing it could cost him precious seconds, but unable to resist the impulse, Durotan turned his head to scream a curse at the ogre before it smashed him as flat as a graincake with its club. What he saw made his jaw drop.
Their rescuers did not utter a sound. They moved in silence, a quiet tide of blue and white and silver that seemingly sprang out of the very air.

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Durotan · Orgrim
Szelén>!

„Can you tell us of your people. Prophet? We know so little. In the last few hours I have learned more than any of my people have over the last hundred years, I think.”
Velen turned glowing blue eyes to Durotan. Durotan wanted to quail from that gaze, not because he was afraid of it. But because he had never before felt so…seen.
„The draenei have never withheld information, young Durotan. But… I believe you may be the first who has ever asked. What do you wish to know?”
Everything, Durotan wanted to stay, but instead focused his question. „The ores had never met the draenei until two hundred summers past. Restalaan said you came here in a great vessel that can travel the skies. Tell me more of this.”
Velen took a sip of the beverage that tasted like summer to Durotan and smiled. "To begin with, 'draenei' is not our true name. It is a term that means … 'exiled ones.
Durotan gaped.
„We disagreed with others in our world. We chose not to sell our people into slavery, and for that we were exiled. We have spent much time finding a suitable place to dwell—a place to call our own. We fell in love with this land, and We call it Draenor.”
Durotan nodded. He had heard the term before. He liked how it sat on his tongue when he spoke it, and the ores did not have a name for this place other than „world.”
„It is our term, We have not the arrogance to think the ores would use it as well. But such We have dubbed it, and We love Draenor deeply. It is a beautiful world, and We have seen many,”
Orgrim gasped. „You have seen other worlds?”
„Indeed We have. And We have met many people.”
„People like the ores?”
Velen smiled gently. „There is no one like the ores,” he said, respect resonant in his voice. „You are unique in our travels.”

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Durotan · Orgrim · Velen
Szelén>!

This is the tale not of the Horde as it exists today, a loose organization of orc, tauren, forsaken, troll, and blood elf, but of the rise of the very first Horde. Its birth, like that of any infant, was marked by blood and pain, and its harsh cries for life meant death to its enemies….

Szelén>!

The ores did not fight among themselves, but neither were they particularly sociable. Each clan kept to itself, with its own traditions, styles and manner of dress, stories, and shaman. There were even variations of dialect that differed so much that some ores could not understand one another unless they spoke the common tongue. They almost seemed as different to one another as the other sentient race who shared the bounty of the field, forest, and streams, the blue-skinned, mysterious draenei. Only twice a year, spring and autumn, did all the orc clans come together as they were doing now, to honor that time when day and night were the same length.

Szelén>!

„This is how we used to be, my chieftain,” he said in a broken voice. He lifted his arms and tilted his head back, calling the wind to embrace him and dry the tears on his strong green face. „Close to the earth. Close to the spirits. Strong in the hunt, gentle with the younglings, knowing our place in the world to be right and just. Understanding the balance of taking and giving. The only magic the tauren practice is the good, clean magic of the earth, and the land reflects that, the way Draenor once reflected our connection.”
I thought of the tauren's request for aid infighting their enemy, the vile, filthy centaur.
„Yes . . . I feel for them. It will be good to be able to help them,” I said.
Drek 'Thar laughed, turning his blind eyes to me and seeing me more clearly than anyone with sight could.
„Oh, my young Thrall,” he said, chuckling still, „you do not yet understand. They will help us.”

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Drek'Thar · Thrall (Go'el)
Szelén>!

„Ha,” grunted Orgrim, sitting up and punching Durotan in a playful manner. „It is little effort to beat a stripling like you. Durotan.”
„You have so much muscle your brain is starved,” Durotan retorted. „Skill is as important as power. But the Blackrock clan wouldn't know about such things.”
There was no malice in their banter. Their clans had been troubled at first by the friendship between the two youths, but Durotan's stubborn argument—that just because something had never been done before did not mean it could not be done—amused and impressed the leaders of both clans. It helped that both the Frostwolves and the Blackrocks were both traditionally even-tempered orc clans. Had Durotan proposed such a friendship with a Warsong clan member or a Bonechewer, for example, known for their intense clan pride and distrust of others, the little flame of friendship would have died quickly. So the elders watched, and waited for the novelty to fade and for each youth to return to his rightful place and keep the familiar order that had been established for… as long as anyone could recall.
They were disappointed.
The frost of late winter had given way to spring and now the full blowsy warmth of summer, and the friendship continued.

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Durotan · Orgrim
Szelén>!

It had only been pure luck that Velen had been holding the crystal at the moment of the onslaught; had he not, his body would be lying on the ground, torn into a handful of fleshy bits.
But Velen had been holding the ata'mal crystal, and he had been warned. Something had happened—some strange lights had sprung up protectively around the traitor, and something had come for them. Now as Kil’jaeden watched, the peculiar vessel shimmered and … disappeared.
He had escaped! Curse him, damn him, Velen had escaped!
The man'ari, whose delight had filled Kil’jaeden just seconds earlier, were now full of consternation and disappointment. He touched all of their minds; they knew nothing. What was this thing that had come to snatch Velen from Kil’jaeden's very grasp?
Fear now shuddered through Kil’jaeden. His master would not be pleased with these developments.
„What now?” asked Archimonde. Kil’jaeden turned to look at his ally.
„We find them,” growled Kil’jaeden. „We find them and destroy them. Even if it takes a thousand years.”

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Archimonde · Kil’jaeden · Sargeras · Velen
Szelén>!

Durotan's jaw dropped. He turned his head to stare at Orgrim, who wore a similar expression of stunned dismay. This was what was so important, so secret that the children were forbidden to leave the tent to listen to it? Discussions of fevers and soups?
In the bright light of the moon. Durotan had no trouble seeing Orgrim's face clearly. The other youth's brows drew together in a frown.
„You and I can come up with something more interesting than this. Durotan.” he said in a low, gruff voice.
Durotan grinned and nodded. He was certain of it.
The festival lasted for two more days. During the daytime and at night, when the two would sneak out together, they challenged each other to different contests of skill. Racing, climbing, strength, sure-footedness— everything they could think of. And each defeated the other almost as if they had planned on taking turns.

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Durotan · Orgrim
Szelén>!

„Let us not perform common, ordinary challenges,” Durotan said, wondering where the words came from even as he uttered them, „Let us do something truly different in the history of our people.”
Orgrim's bright gray eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. „What do you suggest?”
„Let us be friends, you and I.”
Orgrim's heavily muscled jaw dropped. „But—we are not of the same clan!” he said, in a voice that indicated that Durotan might have proposed a friendship between the great black wolf and the mild talbuk. Durotan waved a dismissive hand. „We are not enemies,” he said. „Look around you. The clans come together twice a year and there is no harm in it.”
„But . . . my father says it is precisely because we come together so seldom that the peace is kept,” Orgrim continued. His brow knotted with concern.
Disappointment colored Durotan's words with bitterness. „Very well. I thought you braver than the others, Orgrim of the Doomhammer line, but you are no better than they—timid and shy and unwilling to see beyond what has always been done to what is possible.”
[…]
„I am no coward!” he snarled. „I back down from no challenge, you upstart Frostwolf!”
He sprang on Durotan then, knocking the smaller orc off his feet, and the two pummeled each other until the shaman needed to be brought in for healing and lecturing on the inappropriateness of fighting in a sacred space.
„Impetuous boy,” scolded the head shaman of the Frostwolves, an ancient orc female they called „Mother” Kashur. „You are not too old to be beaten as a disobedient child, young Durotan!”
The shaman who tended Orgrim muttered similar displeased sounds. But even as blood streamed freely from his nose, and as he watched the shaman heal a wicked gash on Orgrim's brown torso, Durotan grinned. Orgrim caught his gaze and grinned back.
The challenge had begun, the final challenge, so much more important than races or lifting stones, and neither was willing to admit defeat … to say that a friendship between two youths of different clans was wrong. Durotan had a feeling that this particular challenge would end only when one of them was dead … and perhaps not even then.

Kapcsolódó szócikkek: Durotan · Orgrim

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