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Bohein is a very short story of a tauren and his goblin companion, Isak, as they attempt to break into an ancient vault on top of a mesa while besieged by an undead swarm. This short story appears on pages 111 - 112 of the Warcraft RPG sourcebook Magic & Mayhem.
"...Then you have one minute to open that door. If you fail, I want time to enjoy killing you myself."
Isak drew thieves' tools from his pockets and tugged his gloves on tighter. "Magic gloves," he muttered nervously. "Magic gloves of celeb... celery— "
"Celerity," said Bohein, opening the pouch around his neck. The ring inside dropped into his calloused palm. The tauren watched the cold moonlight glint off its silver strands for a mment, then he slipped it over the chipped tip of one horn. From his pack he brought out a glass vial filled with a glowing blue-green liquid. Bohein had won the potion in Bluefen on his first elderquest, and he had carried it unused — unneeded — for many years. Yet if he didn't use it tonight, there would be no tomorrow. Thumbing open the stopper, he tipped the vial to his muzzle and drank.
The tauren felt the warmth of magical strength flowing into his limbs as Isak shouted, "I've got the lock open, but there are traps! Magic traps!" The goblin dug frantically in his pack. "I just need to find that amulet...."
Bohein stepped to the edge of the cliff and looked over. Roiling masses of the undead swarmed at the base of the mesa. An abomination halfway up the rock face reached for a new grip but found instead one pf the wards Bohein had cast earlier. The explosion ripped open the abomination's undead flesh and sent it tumbling back into the darkness. Skeletons to either side continued their climb, undeterred. Bohein turned back to the goblin. "When I return, that door will be open."
Isak clutched the bronze disc around his neck and sneezed as he waved away a smoky cloud jetting up from the door. "Poison gas! She really didn't want anyone opening this door, just a few more seconds!"
Unknotting the leather thongs binding his weapon baldric, Bohein muttered the whistling elven word that released the spells bound into his horn ring. Trusting to the magic, he took a step over the edge and toppled forward — only to plant his hoof firmly against the vertical face of the cliff. Another step forward and he stood sideways on the side of the mesa, a hundred feet above the ground. The hordes of undead far below were a swarm on the distant ground that had become a "wall" to Bohein, and the skeletons skittering forward pressed themselves tightly to the cliff that was now his "floor." Reaching over his shoulder, Bohein shook the wrappings from his weapon. They fell away, pulled at an odd angle by gravity he could not feel.
Freed of its rough scabbard, the tauren's ancient axe roared with rage as the undead approached. Gohein joined his weapon's cry as he moved from one enemy to the next, chopping off bony limbs and knocking ghouls from the rocks. As he pushed back wave after wave of the enemy, the war chants of his ancestors sang in his mind. For seconds that felt like hours, he let himself swim in the glorious tides of battle. Then, as he felt his ring's magic wane, he rushed up the face of the cliff and leapt back onto the top.
"The vault is open!" cried Isak. "I've got it!"
Bohein ripped the bundle from the goblin's hands and tore away the leather wrappings. The smell of decay and death bloomed from the book inside. The tauren felt the powerful magics bound into the tome reach out and shroud the moon in dark clouds. This was it. This was what they had been looking for.
Turning to the skeletons and ghouls clambering over the edge, Bohein held the book high and cride, "In the name of Queen Azshara and the power of this book, I command death itself! BACK!"