Post by Dale on Jan 9, 2008 21:42:24 GMT -5
Series Pilot: WARCRAFT
Episode: Sands of Time
----------------
(SCF Films Presents)
WARCRAFT
Pilot Episode: Sands of Time
(The screen is black)
VO: Throughout time, victories have been scored, defeats suffered. We have overcome the greatest obstacle in your campaign, but have opened a newer, demonic plague upon the world.
(Cut to a frozen wasteland. There is no sign of life. A skeleton is seen laying limp on a rock. All of a sudden, it’s eye socket turns red)
VO: The orcs and humans are at peace, by respect of one another.
(Cut to an orc, a giant, muscular, green being wielding a great axe in a human port, trading with humans freely. Many other creatures are seen, but not in detail. One can see a mutual respect.)
VO: Illidan’s armies and schemes were ended with his downfall, as tragic as it was.
(Cut to the body of Illidan being burned on a pyre. The people around the once noble night elf seem sad. As he burns, the demonic magic within shoot out into the sky with a green flash.)
VO: The races remain unknowing of the new threat, from the frozen north. Only time will change their vigilance, and I can only hope that is soon.
(Cut back to the snowy wasteland. Armies of skeletons begin marching down the tundra hills, followed by many other macabre creatures.)
VO: For the wrath of the lich king is upon us.
(Quickly flash to a shot of a pale, seemingly dead man sitting on a frozen throne. His body is halfway stuck in the ice behind him.)
--------------(Commercial Break)---------------
(Cut to a young elvish man named HAVOKEN stalking something in the bushes. His bow is drawn, and an arrow is strung, pulled taut. The elf has light brown hair, and blue eyes, which stare through the foliage at a large individual. This creature is a mixture of a goat and a man, also known as a satyr. Havoken lets out a slight smirk as he releases his bow string, sending the arrow flying into the satyr’s chest. The demonic creature clutches his chest and tumbles down to the ground. Havoken breaks out from the foliage, and checks his foes corpse. Just then, a muscular orc named NARGATO walks out from the opposite side of the bushes.
Nargato: I thought I had him.
Havoken: I hit first.
Nargato (mumbling): Damn bows. How many more are in the encampment?
Havoken: None. My men and I cleared it out. This was just a re-check.
Nargato: Orcs have no need to re-check. We kill them twice.
Havoken: Well excuse me my dear friend, we elves can’t help but be secure with our raids. I’m afraid there aren’t as much of us left.
Nargato: On this side of the planets. Plenty of friends on Kalimdor.
Havoken: Maybe another time. Come, let’s get back to the camp.
(The two depart the forest.)
(Cut to a large castle. A king, BOLVAR FORDRAGON sits on his throne, looking bored. Nobles surround him, apparently waiting for something.)
Noble: Milord, I would just like to point out how the kingdom of Arathi has aided Stormwind in its toils.
Fordragon: Aye you have. What is it you wish with the kingdom of Stormwind, Greymand Trollbane?
Trollbane: Your support. The trolls and ogres have formed some sort of alliance, and move against our newly recaptured Stromgarde. We need military aid.
(Suddenly, a messenger bursts in through the doors. Everyone turns to look at him, as he stumbles across the king’s court, and collapses before his throne.)
Messenger: Milord…
Fordragon: Yes, yes! Speak up!
Messenger: The frozen north….Northrend…it’s….they’ve…
Fordragon: What? What has happened in Northrend?
Messenger: The lich king….he…has began his plan….
(The messenger passes out)
Fordragon: Get this man aid!
Trollbane: Northrend, sire? You know what they say..the story tellers…they speak of Arth…
Fordragon: Arthas, I know. Menethil’s son. He was corrupted by the Burning Legion, and now commands the Scourge from his stronghold in Northrend.
Trollbane: What do we do?
Fordragon: The situation is obviously dire, and as much as I would want to lead the forces to victory, I must remain here. Thrall must have heard by now.
(Cut back to a lightly reinforced camp. Various races guard the settlement. We see elves with their bows, orcs with massive swords and axes, and a variety of other men. A giant bull looking humanoid is seen standing at a bonfire, and wields a massive totem. His hair is braided, and seems very spiritual.)
Voice: MAKE WAY!
(Havoken and Nargato ride in on their mounts, a pure white stallion and a black wolf respectively. The two dismount at the stables. Nargato heads over to his orc brethren as Havoken jogs up to the commander of the settlement, a dwarf. The dwarf is not 4 feet tall, but is pure muscle with skin as hard as the iron they wield so expertly. His name is MOGRIN EARTHHAMMER.)
Havoken: Mogrin! Mogrin!
Mogrin: Aye, what is it laddy? How did the clean up go?
Havoken: Everything went to plan. All the satyrs are dead.
Mogrin: That’s good mate.
Havoken: Whats wrong? You seem different.
Mogrin: Come with me, this is for only us to hear.
(The two walk into Mogrin’s tent. Mogrin shuts the door.)
Havoken: What is it?
Mogrin: Arthas is on the move. My gryphons riders from Daggercap report movement. Undead. He is massing for a strike on the world!
Havoken: Arthas? The old skeleton raises now? Mogrin, we just finished with the Illidari, now Arthas?
Mogrin: I’m afraid so. The kingdoms have banished us, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work for the greater good. I want you to round up the leaders, and bring them in here, so I can address all of them.
Havoken: Of course, sir.
---------------Commercial---------------
(Cut to the tent where 6 leaders now stand. There is Havoken, leader of the elves. Nargato represents the Orcish Horde. A human, DAMETRIUS, stands there proud, his claymore strapped to his back. ZALA’JIN, a troll, stands with his spear in one hand. A raptor stands by his side. The tauren we saw earlier, BRENSHO, sits down in the tent, his height too much for the structure. A blue, mystical creature called a draenei, stands in the center of the leaders. NABATO is his name. Mogrin begins to speak.)
Mogrin: My friends and trusted allies, I am here to report news from the great north.
Nabato: Northrend? Mogrin, my friend, there has been no activity there since..
Brensho: Let the little one speak Nabato.
Mogrin: Arthas moves. Even now he rallies his forces. Their purpose is unknown, but the possibilities are grim.
Dametrius: How does this affect us? You do not expect that us, a band of mercenaries, outcasts, can muster a force to stop the lich king?
Zala’jin (Speaks in a Jamaican accent): Ya’ mon. We have a little troops here, mon.
Havoken: I do not think Mogrin is talking about a full on assault…
Nargato: Which we orcs want.
Dametrius: Doesn’t surprise me. Morgrin, what would you have us do?
Morgrin: We are obviously cut off from the main cities laddy. They refused to see the point in burning Silvermoon, which at the time, was a good idea. Zala’jin, what is that?
Zala’jin: It’s a raptor mon. He’s my pet.
Havoken: His name?
Zala’jin: Nibbles.
(Nargato and Brensho chuckle. Nabato grimaces, and shakes his head. Dametrius sighs.)
Havoken: Morgrin, the north is obviously a threat, but I think it would be best to watch our own borders. With satyrs, ogres, and Zala’jin’s evil cousins, we can’t spare anything.
Morgrin: Nay, that is why we must gain back the trust of our respective cities. Without them, all hope is lost.
(Just then, a raven soars into the tent. It’s form breaks into that of a human. He is dressed in simple robes and a hood, and wields a gnarled staff.)
Wizard: And how would you do that, Morgrin Earthhammer?
Nargato: Who are you? Speak, fool, or I will have pleasure in dismembering you.
Wizard: I am Falcer Windblaze, and I carry the sands of time.
(Cut to black)
Episode: Sands of Time
----------------
(SCF Films Presents)
WARCRAFT
Pilot Episode: Sands of Time
(The screen is black)
VO: Throughout time, victories have been scored, defeats suffered. We have overcome the greatest obstacle in your campaign, but have opened a newer, demonic plague upon the world.
(Cut to a frozen wasteland. There is no sign of life. A skeleton is seen laying limp on a rock. All of a sudden, it’s eye socket turns red)
VO: The orcs and humans are at peace, by respect of one another.
(Cut to an orc, a giant, muscular, green being wielding a great axe in a human port, trading with humans freely. Many other creatures are seen, but not in detail. One can see a mutual respect.)
VO: Illidan’s armies and schemes were ended with his downfall, as tragic as it was.
(Cut to the body of Illidan being burned on a pyre. The people around the once noble night elf seem sad. As he burns, the demonic magic within shoot out into the sky with a green flash.)
VO: The races remain unknowing of the new threat, from the frozen north. Only time will change their vigilance, and I can only hope that is soon.
(Cut back to the snowy wasteland. Armies of skeletons begin marching down the tundra hills, followed by many other macabre creatures.)
VO: For the wrath of the lich king is upon us.
(Quickly flash to a shot of a pale, seemingly dead man sitting on a frozen throne. His body is halfway stuck in the ice behind him.)
--------------(Commercial Break)---------------
(Cut to a young elvish man named HAVOKEN stalking something in the bushes. His bow is drawn, and an arrow is strung, pulled taut. The elf has light brown hair, and blue eyes, which stare through the foliage at a large individual. This creature is a mixture of a goat and a man, also known as a satyr. Havoken lets out a slight smirk as he releases his bow string, sending the arrow flying into the satyr’s chest. The demonic creature clutches his chest and tumbles down to the ground. Havoken breaks out from the foliage, and checks his foes corpse. Just then, a muscular orc named NARGATO walks out from the opposite side of the bushes.
Nargato: I thought I had him.
Havoken: I hit first.
Nargato (mumbling): Damn bows. How many more are in the encampment?
Havoken: None. My men and I cleared it out. This was just a re-check.
Nargato: Orcs have no need to re-check. We kill them twice.
Havoken: Well excuse me my dear friend, we elves can’t help but be secure with our raids. I’m afraid there aren’t as much of us left.
Nargato: On this side of the planets. Plenty of friends on Kalimdor.
Havoken: Maybe another time. Come, let’s get back to the camp.
(The two depart the forest.)
(Cut to a large castle. A king, BOLVAR FORDRAGON sits on his throne, looking bored. Nobles surround him, apparently waiting for something.)
Noble: Milord, I would just like to point out how the kingdom of Arathi has aided Stormwind in its toils.
Fordragon: Aye you have. What is it you wish with the kingdom of Stormwind, Greymand Trollbane?
Trollbane: Your support. The trolls and ogres have formed some sort of alliance, and move against our newly recaptured Stromgarde. We need military aid.
(Suddenly, a messenger bursts in through the doors. Everyone turns to look at him, as he stumbles across the king’s court, and collapses before his throne.)
Messenger: Milord…
Fordragon: Yes, yes! Speak up!
Messenger: The frozen north….Northrend…it’s….they’ve…
Fordragon: What? What has happened in Northrend?
Messenger: The lich king….he…has began his plan….
(The messenger passes out)
Fordragon: Get this man aid!
Trollbane: Northrend, sire? You know what they say..the story tellers…they speak of Arth…
Fordragon: Arthas, I know. Menethil’s son. He was corrupted by the Burning Legion, and now commands the Scourge from his stronghold in Northrend.
Trollbane: What do we do?
Fordragon: The situation is obviously dire, and as much as I would want to lead the forces to victory, I must remain here. Thrall must have heard by now.
(Cut back to a lightly reinforced camp. Various races guard the settlement. We see elves with their bows, orcs with massive swords and axes, and a variety of other men. A giant bull looking humanoid is seen standing at a bonfire, and wields a massive totem. His hair is braided, and seems very spiritual.)
Voice: MAKE WAY!
(Havoken and Nargato ride in on their mounts, a pure white stallion and a black wolf respectively. The two dismount at the stables. Nargato heads over to his orc brethren as Havoken jogs up to the commander of the settlement, a dwarf. The dwarf is not 4 feet tall, but is pure muscle with skin as hard as the iron they wield so expertly. His name is MOGRIN EARTHHAMMER.)
Havoken: Mogrin! Mogrin!
Mogrin: Aye, what is it laddy? How did the clean up go?
Havoken: Everything went to plan. All the satyrs are dead.
Mogrin: That’s good mate.
Havoken: Whats wrong? You seem different.
Mogrin: Come with me, this is for only us to hear.
(The two walk into Mogrin’s tent. Mogrin shuts the door.)
Havoken: What is it?
Mogrin: Arthas is on the move. My gryphons riders from Daggercap report movement. Undead. He is massing for a strike on the world!
Havoken: Arthas? The old skeleton raises now? Mogrin, we just finished with the Illidari, now Arthas?
Mogrin: I’m afraid so. The kingdoms have banished us, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work for the greater good. I want you to round up the leaders, and bring them in here, so I can address all of them.
Havoken: Of course, sir.
---------------Commercial---------------
(Cut to the tent where 6 leaders now stand. There is Havoken, leader of the elves. Nargato represents the Orcish Horde. A human, DAMETRIUS, stands there proud, his claymore strapped to his back. ZALA’JIN, a troll, stands with his spear in one hand. A raptor stands by his side. The tauren we saw earlier, BRENSHO, sits down in the tent, his height too much for the structure. A blue, mystical creature called a draenei, stands in the center of the leaders. NABATO is his name. Mogrin begins to speak.)
Mogrin: My friends and trusted allies, I am here to report news from the great north.
Nabato: Northrend? Mogrin, my friend, there has been no activity there since..
Brensho: Let the little one speak Nabato.
Mogrin: Arthas moves. Even now he rallies his forces. Their purpose is unknown, but the possibilities are grim.
Dametrius: How does this affect us? You do not expect that us, a band of mercenaries, outcasts, can muster a force to stop the lich king?
Zala’jin (Speaks in a Jamaican accent): Ya’ mon. We have a little troops here, mon.
Havoken: I do not think Mogrin is talking about a full on assault…
Nargato: Which we orcs want.
Dametrius: Doesn’t surprise me. Morgrin, what would you have us do?
Morgrin: We are obviously cut off from the main cities laddy. They refused to see the point in burning Silvermoon, which at the time, was a good idea. Zala’jin, what is that?
Zala’jin: It’s a raptor mon. He’s my pet.
Havoken: His name?
Zala’jin: Nibbles.
(Nargato and Brensho chuckle. Nabato grimaces, and shakes his head. Dametrius sighs.)
Havoken: Morgrin, the north is obviously a threat, but I think it would be best to watch our own borders. With satyrs, ogres, and Zala’jin’s evil cousins, we can’t spare anything.
Morgrin: Nay, that is why we must gain back the trust of our respective cities. Without them, all hope is lost.
(Just then, a raven soars into the tent. It’s form breaks into that of a human. He is dressed in simple robes and a hood, and wields a gnarled staff.)
Wizard: And how would you do that, Morgrin Earthhammer?
Nargato: Who are you? Speak, fool, or I will have pleasure in dismembering you.
Wizard: I am Falcer Windblaze, and I carry the sands of time.
(Cut to black)
