Alterac Valley. Two massive armies are forming on opposite sides of the area, preparing for the big, deadly confrontation that appears to be unavoidable when two such formidable forces, two unstoppable, bloodthirsty battalions collide. Maybe one of them, a rogue with a typical, rogue-like name such as Darkshadowdeathravenbloodfang is giving an inspiring speech, Braveheart-style: "CAKE, YOU FUCKS! Go rush Derek!"
Out of nowhere, the horn of war is sounded, the gates fling open and soldiers are pouring into the valley from both sides, bloodthirsty and eager to kill. Except for about half a dozen people on both sides, who just stand there, motionless, not doing anything at all. Maybe one of them is sitting down with a sandwich and a porn magazine, occassionally looking at his watch, hoping the whole thing will be over soon, so he can reap his reward.
Up at the front, some soldiers are being followed by their allies, no matter where they go. If they stand still, their followers stand still. If they move, their followers will move. They don't fight, they don't talk and they're not really good for anything - they just exist for some strange reason.
When the armies finally meet right at the middle of the valley, their numbers have already shrunk significantly - not as a result of raging battle, however - both sides have lazy soldiers sitting around eating sandwiches or blindly walking into trees. And when the active, conscious warriors finally come within reach of the enemy, when the two massive forces finally ride so close to one another that bloodshed cannot possibly be delayed for another second, the unbelievable happens: Nothing.
One army rides past the other, there is no fighting, not a droplet of blood is spilled, not a single warrior defeated. That's when the orcish captain Galvangar freezes in horror, as dozens of Alliance soldiers pour into his fortress and tear him to shreds. In his final moments, he stares at a bunch of shaman quintuplets in disbelief, as they drain his very life with their magicks in perfect synchronisation. Five identical shamans, dressing and moving and acting as if they were one, as though one invisible puppeteer pulled all of their strings at exactly the same time.
Meanwhile, the Horde soldiers ravage captain Balinda Stonehearth, then proceed to torch every single alliance bunker they can find. "OMG def Belinda!" can be heard from one of the Alliance fighters, who is bravely watching over a little hill, but his cry comes too late. At the end of the day, the forces of the Horde and Alliance have burnt down several buildings and killed two captains and one general in total. Eighty people going to war, three casualties. And both sides are honoured, praised and rewarded handsomely by their respective battlemasters.
Of course, true honour and glory can only be found in the arena. And the crowd cheers and howls in ecstasy as a warrior chases after a priest, who is running around a pillar in circles, over and over again. Every two or three minutes, the warrior catches up with his opponent and deals a mighty blow with his axe, but the priest's wounds magically close within the blink of an eye and he soon resumes running around the pillar. 30 minutes later, the fight ends in a draw, as neither combatant was able to slay their opponent. What a great battle!
Since the main characters of the movies are said to be Alliance-based, I'll assume that a big portion of the film will happen in Stormwind. Imagine a spectacular camera-flythrough across the capital city of the Alliance. A bunch of naked, female dwarves worshipping a statue of Chuck Norris on their knees. A bearded man in a pink dress dancing on top of a mailbox. Two night elves arguing over the size of their swords in their strange, magical language. "OMFG wrath noob! TBC was best!1" - "FU!!"
A screaming warrior is running through the streets, arms flailing, his head decorated with a burning gladiator's helmet. "AUUUUUGH! MY FUCKING FACE! AAAAAAAH! WHY THE HELL AM I WEARING A BURNING HELMET???"
And as fantasy film clichés go, the story is likely to feature a young, inexperienced adventurer named Wtflol, who puts on his moldy leather vest and a blunt dagger to go out on his very own adventure. Oh and of course his father was a great swordsman, who ended up disappearing or got killed in a war or some shit.
Wtflol still possesses his father's enchanted battleaxe and his full suit of adamantine plate armor, which he had neatly stored away at the local bank. He would just keep them at home, but sadly, most people in Azeroth don't own a house.
Wtflol wouldn't dream of using his old man's gear for himself, because he doesn't know how to use plate armor, yet. He also doesn't know how to wield a powerful axe. He might learn these things someday, but the people of Azeroth are a little slow and many of them only figure out how to put on heavier pieces of armor as they grow older. Some of them never do.
When Wtflol steps outside through the city gates of Stormwind and into Elwynn Forest, he is greeted by half a dozen fellow adventurers, who don weapons and armor forged from the very skin and bones of dragons and demons. Their swords burn with magical fire, their shields are imbued with the strength of titans and before poor Wtflol knows what's going on, he already finds himself challenged to a duel.
Each and every one of them keep challenging him, they strike him down time and again, a mere touch of their magically enhanced arms powerful enough to knock the poor soul into next week. Middle school all over again!
When Wtflol finally goes on his merry way, he finds himself carrying out heroic deeds such as slaying wild boars, kobolds, wild boars, spiders, wild boars, some gnolls and of course wild boars. He also befriends a hunter, who is proficient at using every tiny bit of gear they come across and his friend never stops stressing the fact that he can and must indeed use everything they find. For reasons unbeknownst to Wtflol, the hunter is wearing a cloth robe, leather pants, a chain coif and there's even a pair of plate gloves in his backpack. He isn't really using them, but he says it's still important for him to have them. He also carries an assortment of daggers, swords, axes, polearms, guns and crossbows.
He also taught Wtflol a magic spell, telling him to shout it at the top of his lungs whenever he finds himself in trouble. "NEED HIGHLVL TO BOOST THRU DM PLZ!!1"
But let's forget about the great possibilities for epic battle and awesome storytelling for a moment and focus on all the exciting landscapes and creatures we can expect from a Warcraft film, most of which is stuff we have never seen before in any other movie! A green, prehistoric valley full of dinosaurs and ravaging raptors! Pyramids! A whole lot of god-like beings and monsters stolen from Norse mythology so blatantly, they couldn't even be arsed to come up with unique names (Loken? Tyr? Fuck off!) and even action-packed adventures under the sea, where the brave adventurers of Azeroth ride magical seahorses!
I'm sure that the dull, uninspired and derivative world of Warcraft is not going to bother anyone in a movie. Heck, people still watch crap like Transformers! But if they showed Azeroth the way it *really* is, then it would be the best fucking comedy of this century.
-Cat
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