Chains of Command (Closed RP)

Betting on the human from Elwynn was easy for Lurena. Anything was better than a night elf. As she cheered amongst the rest of the spectators, Lurena was ready for a night of entertainment. Since the Shattering occurred, the last thing the troll wanted on her mind was the devastation that was caused by Deathwing.

Her friends had told her all about the fight that was going on in Gadgetzan. Mass destruction or not, if there was a good fight to be had, Lurena was going to go. After the distraction that was Northrend, she wanted to enjoy herself.

What she really wanted to see tonight was the night elf with the Mohawk to lose. The last time she tried to help a night elf out, she was betrayed. So seeing a night elf get their ass kicked was a satisfactory sight for Lurena to see. With all that was going on, a good night out with her friends from Sen’jin was what she needed.

Gadgetzan was really a goblin town she didn’t care too much for, but it had its perks. Lurena had earned enough gold from her travels throughout Northrend and from her exploits in Blackrock Mountain that she was able to make high stake bets with her ‘friends.’ Her ‘friends’ really consisted of mercenaries that she met along the way as well as children of her mother’s friends that she saw briefly while growing up in Sen’jin. They were a terrible influence on her; whenever a good bet was to be had, they made sure to include her in it. It was difficult for her to say no. After all, when you had a spare gold coin, why not?

Booking a room at the inn in advance, Lurena was ready to just kick back and relax. After the stress of Deathwing’s awakening, she had to enjoy herself. Sure, she would probably try and find some way to investigate what was going on, but for now, like many others, she just wanted to lose herself in the seedy underworld of Gadgetzan.

The cage fight wasn’t going to go live for another twenty minutes, and Lurena was thirsty. Her friends all had a good spot to view the match, so the young troll excused herself so she could get herself a drink. She had just arrived not too long ago to Gadgetzan, so she still had her traveling pack. She figured she would just go to the inn, drop off her pack, get a drink, and get right back to her friends so she could view the fight.

Brushing aside her purple braids that hung over her shoulder, Lurena took a deep breath as she took in her surroundings. Most of her purple and pink hair was done in a fashion of tight braids, aside from a shock of hair that rested over the right side of her head. She found that her braided crest style was too cumbersome for when she delved more into thievery. With most of her hair braided, she was able to hide more easily. She did miss her Mohawk, but with all the sneaking around she had to do, she had to be more practical than cultural.

As she walked through the crowded streets, Lurena happened to glance over to a nearby alleyway, where she saw a young troll girl streak by. Not too long after she ran into the alleyway, a group of angry dwarves followed. Frowning, Lurena only took a few seconds to abandon her plan of finding a suitable drink and stalked after the dwarves instead.

Just as she thought, the troll girl was in trouble. One of the dwarves had managed to slam their gryphon into her as she tried to scale over a wall. The dwarves began to crowd the young troll, some of them kicking her and grabbing her. Lurena stuck to the shadows, eventually melting into them as she surveyed the situation. Drawing a cloak over herself and covering her face so that it was indistinguishable, she waited until the dwarves began to talk amongst themselves.

Moving closer, Lurena overheard one of the dwarves mutter, “…let the dice decide whether we kill her or leave her here.” Immediately Lurena felt her insides boil with rage. No foot stool was going to claim a member of her race, regardless of what they have done! Taking out her daggers, she quickly administered a paralyzing poison on the blades. Making sure her small pouch was readily in reach, she moved towards the dwarves steadily and quietly.

The first dwarf had no idea what was coming. He immediately slumped back as soon as Lurena sunk the dagger into him. The damage was not too severe; only enough for the quick acting paralyze poison to do its trick. The second dwarf, however, let out a small “oof!” as Lurena knocked them out with a swift hit on the back of their head with the hilt of her dagger. As the dwarves turned towards her, Lurena quickly took out her small pouch and threw it into the middle of all the dwarves. There was a loud BANG as powder erupted from the small bag. The remaining dwarves all started coughing, and the troll girl began to cough as well. Not wasting any time, Lurena dashed towards the girl and forcefully grabbed her arm. The piercing shriek of the gryphon warned Lurena that it was about to strike, but she skillfully avoided its beak as she dragged the troll girl away with her. Running out of the alley just as the smoke began to clear, Lurena did not stop as she weaved through the crowds, keeping the girl’s head down as she headed towards a nearby warehouse.

Approaching it by the side, Lurena quickly searched until she found its back entrance. The lock on the door was easily manipulated by her tools, and the moment the door was opened, she dashed in, the troll girl in tow. Closing the door quietly and quickly behind her, Lurena glanced around the warehouse and saw to her relief that it was vacated for the evening. Without giving the girl a moment to catch her breath, Lurena dragged her to the other side of the warehouse and tucked her behind a large stack of crates underneath a tall glass window. Pressing herself against the wall, Lurena listened hard for the activity outside the warehouse’s walls.

It wasn’t long before she heard the shuffling of several short legs storm by.

“Where did that troll lass go?” one of the dwarves snapped loudly.

“Whoever it is that grabbed her, they hit Thornuk really good on the head!” another voice piped up angrily.

“Didja get a good look of who grabbed her?” the female dwarf asked. Lurena was tempted to look out the window but she didn’t want to risk being seen.

“No, they threw that blinding powder before I could,” the first male dwarf replied sourly.

“We’ll keep looking. She couldn’t have gone far!” By the sounds of it, the female dwarf was ready for blood. Lurena swallowed hard. When the collected noise of several short legs soon faded from the warehouse, the troll rogue let out a sigh of true relief.

Her heart still racing, though slowing now, Lurena turned towards the troll girl to finally get a good look at her.

She couldn’t have been older than fifteen. Thin and scrawny with a head full of messy purple braids, Lurena couldn’t help but be reminded of herself when she was younger. The troll’s lip was bleeding and she was dirty from the incident, but other than that, she was no worse for the wear.

Raising an eyebrow, Lurena knelt down so she could bring herself eye level to the troll girl. With her dagger out, she pointed it at the girl’s face as she spoke.

“Joo mind tellin’ me what joo did to get in dis mess?” she asked with a hint of amusement. “’Cause, joo know, last I checked, dwarves aren’t exactly a good sort for a trolly to consort with.”

Azgard & Tahirus

The sun had just dipped below the horizon as the eight wolves crested a large rocky outcropping. Only a mile further to south were the crumbling walls that were once part of the sprawling Quiraji Empire. Though the empire had long since fallen to a mere shadow of itself, the glow of fires coming from within marked it as still inhabited.

Shaking his canine head, Azgard gestured for the other wolves to back away. As soon as they were away from any sentries below, he and the others shifted from their ghost wolf form.

"Do any of you know how to see afar?" he asked quietly. Two taurens raised their hands. "Then get to it. We need to know how many there may be. But don't summon the spell to far inside or it will risk detection."

The two shamans nodded and separated themselves a little from the group to set about their task

"The rest of you take a breather. Eat and drink. Replenish your energy," the orc ordered. Then he turned to Tahirus. "You, come with me."

Both he and Tahirus returned to the rocky crest and glanced down at the ruins.

"So you passed through here?" Azgard asked, sounding somewhat skeptical. The location was far out of the way and most visitors to this land knew to avoid the random ruins.

The evil of Qiraji doesn't die.

The older orc stretched his back as he continued studying the distant location. He felt sore after the long run, but it wasn't anything years of military service hadn't hardened him to. The others, on the hand, didn't have the benefit of such training and looked far more fatigued then he had expected. Even Tahirus appeared a little out of breath and sore, but not too terribly so.

Tahirus nodded in response to Azgard s question as he inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth in long intervals. "The Twilights were watching the roads and detours. I figured the deeper into the desert I went, the less chance I had of running into patrols. I also figured it would be quieter around old Qiraji ruins. Imagine my surprise."

Tahirus stretched his legs to relieve the tension in his muscles. "I am surprised you did not know about these ruins. Have you been out here, in Silithus, very long?"

"We've only been here a few weeks and it's been very busy since then," Azgard explained as he took a small scope from his satchel and studied the grounds below. "And this is far from any travel routes."

The two sat in silence for a moment before the orc cleared his throat. There seemed little point in delaying the question that's been nagging him since last night.

"How do you know Niashado?"

Tahirus grunted. "We worked together in Northrend, when I was still a magus. The conditions were stressful." He paused. "I met her briefly before, on Draenor, when I was in the Mage s Guild, and she was a youngling. She was bright even then. I’m not surprised at how far she's come."

The old orc grunted and looked back through the scope. The desert winds were starting to pick up and the larger of the moons was just beginning to rise over the eastern mountain.

"She didn't become leader because of her skills," he muttered under his breath. "And she's hardly capable of hiding her emotions. She's weary of you."

He collapsed the scope and replaced it in his satchel. Then, he turned and glared at the draenei. "It is my duty to protect these shamans. I saw fear and distrust in her eyes when she saw you. That troubles me," he growled quietly, as to keep their discussion private.

“Her transparency puts her at a disadvantage at times, but I think it’s also one of her strongest merits. She’s one of the most reliable draenei I’ve met, perhaps too reliable for her own good,” said Tahirus. “When we worked together in Northrend, I used that to my advantage. My selfishness almost got her killed.”

At that point, Azgard resolved himself not to allow Tahirus from his sight. A man who can speak highly of another, while also betraying them can’t be trusted.

“A leader cannot afford to be transparent to those she leads. That is hardly a merit,” Azgard replied gruffly. “And the fact that she would even trust you again after doing what you say you did doesn’t inspire me with much confidence.”

He leaned closer and nearly bared his tusk at the draenei.

“If I even suspect that you are working against us, I’ll end you. I won’t waste the time informing her, or questioning you. I’ll simply finish you. Do you understand?”

Tahirus searched Azgard’s eyes without faltering and nodded. Then, the draenei smiled. “How many people have you forced into good behavior under duress? I’ve lived for several thousand years, and I can barely count them on one hand.”

He turned and looked out at the distant ruins, then back to Azgard. “What’s the phrase, ‘trust, but verify?’ You’ve worked with Niashado long enough to know her record isn’t spotless, either. But you still tolerate her.”

“I tolerate her only because someone I hold in high regard put her in that position,” Azgard replied. “If I ever suspect that she is capable of betraying us, I will remove her with little hesitation. But, as you say, her transparency makes her easy to read. I’ve gazed into her eyes. I don’t believe her capable of being treacherous. The worse I’ve seen her do is to be aimless in a time when we need to be united.

“But as for you… your eyes worry me, Tahirus,” the old orc growled before looking over at the pair of taurens that were approaching. He could tell their downcast gazes that their scrying had been less than fruitful.

“Something bars us from seeing within the ruins, Azgard,” one of them explained. “We tried from other areas, but never could get inside. But we saw at least five people inside.”

The orc grunted and gestured for them to retreat toward the others.

“They say five. You said twelve earlier. Perhaps some are resting deeper inside,” the orc shaman muttered. “We need to be stealthy, but these shamans aren’t warriors.”

He looked up at the dark orange sky and then at the ruins again. They had traveled too far to simply turn around, but could he afford to risk it? Rather, would it be better to leave a few to keep an eye?

Tahirus grunted quietly. “A few of us might be able to get close without being detected. We have the greatest element of surprise here. The Twilight have no idea we’re here, nor expect us to be. And all we know right now is that they’re occupying some old Qiraji ruins. I think it’s worth a closer look.”

"Agreed," the orc responded thinking about the choices. "I'll have the others hold back while we look around."


~~~~


Tahirus circle the ruins at a generous distance until he was near the bedrock that the temple had been built against. Several parts of the temple wall had come down and lay in piles of rubble. The ruins were exposed here, and the patrolling tauren guard had stationed himself far out from the ruins in order to avoid the maze of rocky debris that littered the ground around the temple wall. With a proper distraction, Tahirus could slip by the guard at a safe distance.

He checked his totem strap to make sure the weapon was tightly secured, then began a prayer to the Earth. Seconds later, Earth answered, dislodging some rock from a nearby crag and sending it tumbling to the ground in a loud and obnoxious fashion. The Twilight guard snapped his head toward the crag and paced over, clutching at the handle of the axe on his hip as he investigated the disturbance. Simultaneously, Tahirus moved down the low rise to a nearby crag and took cover once more. From his new vantage point, the guard was forty feet to his left, and the temple was sixty feet ahead. The ground in between was open and exposed. Tahirus decided to keep the guard’s attention focused on the crag. He made another prayer, and the Earth responded again, loosening several more small rocks from the crag and spooking the guard into action. The tauren jumped back into a defensive stance and brandished his axe. As the guard squared off against the crag, Tahirus ducked low and hastily made his way across the no-man’s land to the ruins. He crouched behind a slab of the wall that had fallen away and listened. The ruins were quiet, and when Tahirus looked back toward the guard, the tauren was still investigating the crag. Tahirus turned to the dark entryway and slowly crept into the ruins.

Earthen Ring Settlement

The stretched leather walls of the tent shook and flapped loudly as they fought against the desert winds. Dust occasionally blew in the tight gaps on the bottom of the tent and skirted along the floor. Outside, the quiet voices of the other shamans could be heard as they tended to their activities. Barely perceptible through the gales were the occasional rumbles of far off thunder.

All of this, Niashado was able to tune off as she meditated. She sat on her knees before the brazier and watched with slitted eyes as the fire died away slowly. With each careful breath her chest rose and fell. Even her tail was still. Only her long bluish gray hair danced solemnly in the dampened breezes that passed through the minute breaches in the tent

Her passive visage was set on dwindling flames. Farseer Stonehoof would probably have gleaned guidance or foresight from this element. The same couldn’t be said about her efforts.

Not that she was even trying, though. This exercise was more for the conflict and worry roiling in her mind then for the erratic elements outside. After all, if she can’t calm her own mind, how could she be expected to calm an entire world of crazed elementals?

Niashado did find some solace in the solidarity that she shared with the elements. It was Deathwing’s sudden, extensive and willful damage of Azeroth that incited most of the elements. Azeroth had been turned upside down and the tremors that were still be felt weeks after the event only served as a reminder that at any moment he could exact more at any moment.

Her life, as well, had been turned upside down by the responsibilities that had been forced upon her. She didn’t have the experience or wisdom to handle this burden. Even now, when she should be trying to calm her mind, she was still dwelling on how Azgard and the other shamans were doing. She prayed they were well… but there was only such much prayer can calm the mind. She wasn’t an anchorite.

And then there’s Tahirus. What was he doing here? She’d have been content to give him a few skins of water and pointing him off to another direction. But somehow, he had a way of insinuating himself in the midst of things.

Why hadn’t she sent him away? He was dangerous. And she had little doubts that Tahirus had just shown up here by accident. No. Surely he had to be searching for something. At best, this place was just a place to rest. At worse, he was planning to use them.

How could Niashado forget the time he had used her? When she finally realized the danger of what he was trying to find, he had attacked her. He had even inflicted curses on her! A draenei!

But, like Azgard, Tahirus was powerful and confident. He had information that could help them and for the safety of the others, she couldn’t ignore it. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her.

“Prophet, how did you ever endure leading all our people for as long as you have?” she said to no one.

Taking a deep breath, Niashado fought to still the storm in her mind. There was nothing she could for Azgard and his team. Nor could she do anything for Yevana.

There were many things about being leader that Niashado didn’t like, but so far the worse was the waiting. Time only spurred uncertainty and second-guessing. It caused her to dream up of the worst case scenarios for things far beyond her control.

Another deep breath and the shamaness redoubled her meditation. Her mind was wandering and…

“Lass! Are you in here?” a dwarven voice called out from just outside of her tent. With a sigh, Niashado opened her eyes and called out to him. The dwarf entered and brushed some of the dust from his beard. “We gotta problem, Nia. You need to come out here.”

Without hesitation, the draenei rose to her hooves and snatched her staff. She followed the dwarf to the meeting area at the center of the settlement. Everyone was there, staring out into the blackness beyond the edge of their little spot of civilization.

Niashado didn’t need to ask what this was about. She followed their fearful gazes into the dark desert and then gasped at the points of light in the distance. Torchlights! Dozens upon dozens of torchlights danced around the perimeter of the settlement. The dots were far enough that they couldn’t see exactly who or what was holding them, but they were surrounded.

Only one thing came to her mind as she stared at the hypnotic dancing flames in the distance. The Twilights have come. They have come when the settlement was at its most vulnerable.

Niashado felt ashamed and angry at this. She should have been stronger and denied Azgard’s request to investigate these ruins. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be bullied into allowing the orc to go ahead with his strike. And now, because of her weakness, they were all going to be slaughtered.

Niashado looked back at the shamans and was momentarily surprised to see them staring back at her. Their eyes, regardless of their race, all radiated fear. They weren’t taking this time to curse her stupidity in allowing Azgard to go. They simply were looking to her.

For reasons she would probably never understand, it suddenly became easy for her to swallow her fear. Oh, she was still scared, but her countenance became steelier.

“Ready yourselves,” she commanded. “We are the righteous ones here. We are the ones trying to heal Azeroth from the injuries that had been inflicted. And we will not cower from the very individuals who killed our brethren in their sleep.”

Their eyes hardened a bit and they raised their weapons. Some were more hesitant than others, but it was a start. She prayed it wouldn’t be ending. Looking around, the shamaness noticed a trio of torchlights that were growling large. Some were approaching.

They waited for what felt like forever, although in reality it only took a few minutes for the three horse riders to arrive before them. For an indeterminable amount of time, the shamans and the cloaked and hooded Twilights stared down each other.

Finally, the one in the center nudged the horse closer.

“Who is the leader of this rabble?” A gruff feminine voice called out. Taking a deep breath, Niashado stepped forward and looked up at the rider. “We need to speak privately.”

“Anything you have to say, you can say before these people,” Niashado responded.

“I will speak to the leader and no one else. If the leader is too afraid to treat with me privately, then I will simply have to order the obliteration of this camp.”

The shamaness narrowed her eyes even as she felt fear threatening to leach into her countenance.

“Of what assurance do I have that you will not harm these people?” she asked. It was nearly a struggle to keep her voice steady.

“You have only my assurance that I will see my threat through if you play the coward,” the woman rebutted.

With a nod, Niashado turned to the others. “Do not instigate, but also, do not surrender. I will see what they want.” Heads nodded but no words were exchanged.

The figure slid off the horse smartly and followed her to the farseer’s tent. Once inside, the shamaness stepped behind the desk, but didn’t sit. She was just a little over a head taller than this person and she preferred to remain that way, if only because it provided her with a little confidence.

“What do you want?” Niashado demanded with all the bravado she could muster.

“Some refreshment, perhaps. It has been a long ride.”

Niashado held her stare for a few moments before turning and pouring water into a small clay mug. She laid it on the desk before the robed cultist.

The woman’s posture radiated some surprise at her request being so easily fulfilled. The figure pulled back the hood, revealing the face of an orc female. She looked middle age, but still strong. Her black hair spilled out over her shoulders. But it was the nasty burn scar that covered the entire left side of her face that was the most prevalent feature.

The orc picked up the cup, looked down the water and then back to Niashado. “No silverleaf tea?” she asked, looking at glass jar of tea leaves next to the water pitcher.

“The water is free to any who ask, even if they mean us ill will,” Niashado said carefully. “However, the tea is reserved for friends.”

“Well met,” the orc replied with a sneer. She drank the water roughly and then slammed it on the desk harshly. “You are at a disadvantage, shaman.”

Niashado said nothing. There really wasn’t anything to say except to agree with her and she didn’t want to give this orc that satisfaction.

“I am, however, prepared to provide you with a way to save the lives of your people,” the orc continued. “That is, if you can do me a small favor.”

“I am afraid the desires of the… organization, you represent are incompatible with the goals of the Earthen Ring,” the shamaness retorted. The orc’s sudden grin did little to ease Niashado’s trepidation.

“You cherish life. Surely you can-“

“I will be frank with you,” Niashado interrupted. Her bravado was faltering, but still she pressed on. “You are responsible for the murder of my fellow shamans. Your word and your deals mean nothing to us.”


~~~~


The defiance in this blue bitch’s voice was utterly revolting. Was she too daft to know who she was dealing with?

“Select your next words carefully, draenei, for they may be your last!” she snarled. There was some satisfaction in seeing the draenei jump and her face soften. “I am looking for Azgard Bloodtusk. Where is he?”

The draenei’s face tighten in confusion.

“What do you want with him?” she asked. Seya growled, reach out for the lip of the desk and flipped it to the side effortlessly. The draenei took several steps away but Seya was quicker as she unsheathed her sword and pinned the shamaness against the wall. She pressed the sword against the draenei’s chest.

“That doesn’t concern you! Where is he?” Seya demanded.

“He returned to Thunder Bluff this morning,” the draenei quickly explained.

“You lie!”

“He departed this morning,” the shaman replied. Seya believed this part to be true. Still, she wasn’t satisfied.

“And where did he go?” she asked. The draenei lifted her chin in defiance and remained silent.


~~~~


*crack*

Azgard carefully laid the orc’s head back on his sleeping mat and pulled the robes that had been stowed in the bag next to his victim. The other slumbering cultist still slept, none the wiser by the death of one of their own.

The shaman didn’t revel in the death he’d just dealt. This wasn’t battle. This was espionage and hopefully sabotage. He donned the violet robes and raised the hood over his head to cover his gray hair. The orc was quite a bit larger then Azgard, which meant the robes were still loose despite the leather and mail he wore. That worked well for him.

Then, he deftly lifted the dead orc and carried him behind one of the half standing walls in the ruins. Holding the earthen totem, he called out to the spirits. The earth rumbled quietly and the body slowly sunk into the dirt. Once he was completely covered Azgard gave thanks and released the totem. The ground solidified seconds later.

Come daylight, the other cultist will hopefully believe that their companion had deserted. That is, if he and Tahirus were able to gather their intelligence without being caught.

He had his misgivings about the draenei, though. Something didn’t seem right. He wondered if part of it was that Niashado herself had aired her own concerns about Tahirus. Actually, she seemed almost hostile to his presence.

Well, Tahirus had admitted that he betrayed her. Once this was done, he’d get more specifics about that. For now, Tahirus seemed very resourceful and he would make use of that.

The other shamans were waiting near a small ridge line. He’d left instructions for some of them to keep a careful eye on them, especially Tahirus, but it would be difficult to in this labyrinth. The ruins were extensive and dilapidated to say the least. Most of the walls had crumbled and the ceiling that once shielded this part from the sky had long since become part of the floor.

He crept deeper, feeling confident about his disguise. In a large open area of the ruins there were stacks upon stacks of lumber and leather. The orc couldn’t even begin to process the reason the Twilights would be gathering lumber. A pair of tracks and flattened areas of dirt revealed that they were using large carts to haul the lumber to another location.

He walked deeper and entered another open space. It seemed to be some sort of assembling area. There were spherical casings and bolts strewn across large worktables. A crate near the center of the room was filled with gems. Passing his hand over them, he could feel the telltale tingle of a pulsating arcane signature. These crystals were infused with latent magic.

He glanced at the side of the shipping crate and noticed a label. However, it was written in Common, which he wasn’t particularly strong at reading.

“Marand Enterprises,” he uttered after a few moments of finding the right sounds for the words. He didn’t know what it meant though so he pressed on.

Then, his eyes widened as he spotted the object lying against the wall of the opening.

It was an unspent and completed mana bomb.

With a finished object as reference, the orc looked back at the parts lying on the worktables. By his best guess, he believed they had enough parts to construct two dozen more devices.

“What are they doing?” the orc shaman wondered aloud.

Niashado glanced down at the point of the blade just barely touching the point just below her neck and then back at the hooded orcess who held it with a deathly steady hand. She narrowed her eyes at her assailant. Outside, the other shamans were also being held at sword point.

"Where are our people?" the shamaness demanded.

"You mean the fools you sent to attack us?"

"You began this," Niashado retorted. "When you attacked us without provocation."

"Your presence here is provocation enough!" the orc rebutted. She nudged the sword harder against the draenei's chest. "Azeroth belongs to the strong. All others will burn away in flame."

Without moving the sword, she turned her head to the doorway of the tent. "Xan! Bring one of the shamans here!" The orc looked back at Niashado and through the hood, her lips spread into a dark smile. "Bring a blue blood."

The fear that Niashado felt was being suppressed suddenly began rising. She knew that name! What was he doing here?

The tall, cloaked figure returned and shoved one of the draenei shamans to the floor.

"Where has Azgard gone? Tell me, and if I believe your words, you all may survive to leave at first light," the orc sneered. "Lie, and I will make you watch him die slowly."

The shamaness closed her eyes. She had already proven that she couldn't mask a lie from this orc, but nor could she risk Azgard and the others by revealing where they had gone.

At a nod from the leader, the other cultist pulled back his hood, revealing himself to be exactly who she suspected. Xan, was a night elf sporting long white hair, no facial hair and a long scar on the side of his face. He was a shadow trader in Booty Bay. A slaver.

Xan wrapped his arms around the neck of the draenei and pulled him to his hooves. The draenei shaman started to struggled but froze when he felt Xan press the blade against his throat.

"Xan," Niashado murmured. "It saddens me that I find myself wishing Izdazi had killed you."

"I, for one, have no regrets about her weakness.," the kal'dorei replied with a smirk.

The shamaness was about to retort but gasped when she felt the orc's blade cut into her chest slightly.

"Where is Azgard?!" she repeated. By the tone, she could tell that orc would broker no further stalling.

Niashado gulped and looked at the other draenei shaman. He was older then her. She recognized him from the enclave of shamans in Exodar. Kernd. Like the other shamans here, he resented her appointment and they hadn't spoken since her arrival.

The fear in his eyes was unmistakable. He was afraid. He didn't want to die like this anymore then she did. He was a bystander and his fate was thrust in her hands.

Was she to reveal Azgard's location and forfeit the lives of him and all those who followed him, or refuse to answer and watch as Kernd was murdered? And what then? Will she order yet another of her shamans forward to be executed?

She never wanted this kind of responsibility.

Her eyes traced up to Kernd. The fear was still there, but as soon as he registered her gaze upon him, he gave her a shallow nod. The shamaness closed her eyes and sighed.

"Azgard hates me," Niashado explained. "He hates that the farseer gave me leadership of the expedition over him. He believes that I am too weak for this position. He and a group of his followers left his morning for Cenarion Hold in the hopes of finding someone from the Earthen Ring who may replace me!"

The shamaness stared intently at the orc's eyes and didn't dare allow hope to alight her eyes. The mixture of truths, conjectures and lies was almost too confusing for her to articulate.

She didn't fear pointing these Twilights to Cenarion Hold. No matter how many their numbers, it would be suicide for them to strike out at the druid settlement and it would keep them away from the depot that Azgard and the others were hopefully raiding.

The orc's lips peeled into another sneer. Her sword withdrew from Niashado's check. The point was stained with a slightly blue stain, but the wound was superficial.

The draenei gasped when the orc pulled away her hood. Half the orc's face was horribly disfigured. Her course black hair fell over her shoulders, but in the part that was damaged it was riddled with gaps. Glistening saliva leaked from the gaps in her cheek and the eyes over the area was glazed over.

"Azgard is so predictable," the orc uttered. She turned toward Xan and nodded. Without hesitation, the night elf slid the blade through Kernd's throat. Niashado cried out horror as she watched as blood, so thick it looked black, rolled down the shaman's chest. His glowing white eyes dimmed just before his eyelids drooped.

Xan released Kernd and unceremoniously shoved the body at Niashado's hooves.

"Why?! I answered your questions!" Niashado screamed. Her fingers were clenched into fists but she hadn't taken more then three steps toward Xan before the orc slammed the hilt of her sword against the draenei's head. The world spun momentarily and she stumbled onto the ground. Another kick to her back blew the air from her lungs and left her slumped and weakened at the orc's feet.

With a knee pressing painfully into her back, she felt Seya's hot breath on her ear. "Tell Azgard when he returns that if he doesn't surrender to me within the next day, I will return and kill everyone. Tell him, Seya Stealclaw calls to him and that she hasn't forgotten his betrayal."

Just before everything went dark Niashado heard Seya's voice one last time.

"Raze this place."

When Tahirus caught up with Azgard, he saw that the orc was busy inspecting the stockpile. Tahirus had seen the lumber and leather, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what it was for. As he was about to ask Azgard, he heard the orc speak aloud. The question struck Tahirus as odd, because the lumber and leather was puzzling enough, so what had the orc found baffling in this room?

As the draenei got closer, he saw the metal pieces, and then the boxes. Then, he saw the labels. “Marand,” he hissed. “How is this possible?”

Azgard looked up and noted Tahirus's arrival. That he hadn't heard the draenei approach was an indication of how preoccupied he was. Either that or age, and he sorely hoped that wasn't a factor.

"Does that mean anything to you?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes," returned Tahirus. I lead an investigation into his company s black market activity. I don t understand

He went to one of the boxes and gently lifted the top off. The glow of the box’s contents illuminated the draenei’s face. Nestled in bundles of straw were several large crystals. Tahirus could feel the Arcane emanating from them. He reached down and touched one. His fingertips tingled warmly. He put the lid back on the crate and turned to look around the room.

"They're assembling bombs. Like the Cult was," hissed Tahirus.

"The mana bombs, you mean?" Azgard asked. "We need to stop them."

He glanced at the bomb and tried to make sense of what he was seeing, but it was pretty much beyond him.

“Let me see that,” said Tahirus. He went over to the bomb and began inspecting the exterior. He slid the command panel off and ran his fingers over the runes. “This one’s armed. We could probably level these ruins with it.”

"They may suspect us. If they do, I'm not sure we can survive a full on retaliation," the orc mulled. He thought for a moment and then nodded. "Do it. Give us some time to escape. If they come, we will be ready."

“I’d rather take my chances with an army of Twilight than one of these,” said Tahirus. He began preparing the mana bomb’s timer. “Are you ready?”

"Do it," the orc commanded. He started to turn toward the perimeter of the ruins. There were no cultist between them and the dark desert beyond.

Tahirus pressed a rune. It flashed once, than a light from the bomb’s interior began emanating through the slits in the plating in a steady pulse. “It’s armed. Let’s go.”


~~~~


Tahirus, following closely behind Azgard, did not get the element of surprise. A Twilight orc broke from the melee and tried to get the drop on him with a looping swing of an axe. Tahirus, who was in the midst of readying his war totem, only had time to jump out of the Twilight’s strike. The hasty dodge dropped him into the middle of a duel between a troll shaman and an elven cultist, who Tahirus shouldered roughly before centering himself. The shaman took the incidental advantage and blasted the Twilight with a shock of cold.

The Twilight who had taken a swing at Tahirus was back for more. But this time, Tahirus was ready. The orc charged him with a series of feints, but Tahirus saw the real attack coming as the Twilight continued to mutter a prayer. Tahirus was faster with his totem, which he swung two-handed into the orc’s flank. His opponent blocked the attack, but had also failed to complete his prayer. Meanwhile, Tahirus offered his own prayer to Fire, and as he swung his totem again, the head of the weapon ignited in tails of fire. The impact of the augmented totem sent out a shower of embers and took the Twilight off his feet.


~~~~


Once they were beyond the perimeter of the ruins Azgard broke out into a sprint. The further away he got, the more certain he was that something was dreadfully wrong.

The sounds of fighting from where he'd left the other shamans only confirmed his fears. Having left his larger axe with the group, he pulled the two smaller throwing axes and charged toward the ridgeline.

Despite his lungs burning, he fought the urge to pause for a breath. As they crested over the ridgeline they sighted the others in combat against eight dark robed figures. Somehow the cultist had found them.

Already, one of his shamans was dead on the ground. The glow from the large white moon illuminated the battle and he noted the pool of dark blood staining the sand.

The orc's head snapped around at the cry of another of his people. Without hesitation, he hurled one of his axes at an attacker just before he finished the wounded shaman. Lightning crackled along his fingertips as he prepared to lash out at another two.

It’s been too long since I’ve been in battle, he ruminated as he swung the axe in another wide arc. The blade easily bit into the torso of one of the robed attackers. His heart thrummed wildly in his chest and his muscles, already fatigued from the day’s journey, burned at the sudden exertions.

A trio of Twilights started to rush toward him. They looked like wraiths, with their feet hidden under their billowing dark robes.

With a growl, the orc tossed a pair of totems at them before breaking into another sprint. The earth rumbled at their feet, forcing two of the rushing attackers to stumble. The third unexpectedly leapt high and the robes slid off the cultist. When she landed, what stood before the old orc was a towering worgen.

She fell on all fours and circled around him. Despite her size, he could see that she was quite agile. With her dark fur, she nearly blended into the desert night. Her lips peeled back from her muzzle, revealing a glinting row of sharp long teeth. Drool dripped from her teeth and she dug her arm into the sand and swept it back in eagerness to charge.

Yet, it was the yellow shining eyes that the orc found most unsettling. There was intelligence and civility behind those blue eyes. Azgard had fought worgen before, but this was different. For a moment, he wondered if he was facing one of the Gilneans he’d heard about in passing.

From the corner of his vision, he saw the two fallen cultist struggle to stand. One of them was raising a rifle. Around him, the sounds of the skirmish were still growing strong. He heard a stuttered cry and growled in realization that another of the inexperienced shamans fell.

He couldn’t see how they were getting out of this.


~~~~


Back at the depot, the rest of the cultists who had been slumbering rushed through the bomb shop. None paid heed to a metallic clicking sound that had been ticking for the last five minutes. The small ring inset along the sphere rotated slowly with each clicking interval.

Inside the sphere, however, a much quieter and yet staggeringly powerful reaction was occurring. Countless tiny gears and gyros that had spun freely since the inception of the countdown, suddenly found themselves clicking into place.

At four seconds to detonation, lead iris that shielded an array of charged amethyst crystals slid open. An array of highly polished round malachite lenses also began rotating laterally and configuring themselves near the aperture of the alpha mana stream emitting from the amethyst.

At three seconds to detonation a sequence of clicks could be heard as the caps of dozen tiny containment vessels popped apart, revealing thousands of tiny beta mana cubes. The pinkish glowing cubes flickered rapidly as stray alpha particles began striking them.

At two seconds to detonation the malachite lenses began directing the stream of alpha mana energy in an orbit inside the shell of the sphere. Inert ruins etched into the side of the sphere became once hit by this beam. The lens will continue to spin faster for the duration of the pre-detonation sequence. With each successive hit of the mana stream, the runes would grow brighter and increase the metallurgical strength of the bomb shell a thousand fold.

At one second to detonation, the latent arcane energies in the pressure vessel cause the tiny mana cubes to begin bouncing in the chamber. As these cubes, no larger than single crystal of sea salt, collide with each other they cause micro arcane explosions. The charged runes on the vessel walls cause the arcane shockwaves to ricochet into the center, causing a cascade of more explosions.

At half a second to detonation, by design, the leather grommets holding five clusters of quartz steady is destroyed by the effects of the arcane discharges. The charged quartz crystals begin oscillating as they absorb the beta mana shockwaves. Meanwhile, the mechanical systems in the bomb near the completion of their cycle. Tiny explosives set in the base of the each of the clusters are armed.

At 1/10 of a second to detonation the latent magic inside the sphere is the same magnitude as the explosion that destroyed the Sunwell.

At zero seconds the tiny explosions set under the five quartz culture fire, propelling the powerfully charged crystals toward each other. As one, the five beta saturated quartz crystals crush the alpha amethyst crystals. The discharge overwhelms the wards infused shell of the bomb and with a final feedback, the shell explodes outward at faster than the speed of sound.


~~~~


Already tired from the journey and the skulking around, Azgard wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to fend off against three of these Twilights as once. Especially with one of them being a worgen.

Nevertheless, he was an orc, as well as a warrior and a shaman. For honor and vengeance, he would take as many of these bastards down as he could. He was just about the call on the spirits for lightning when the desert flashed with blinding purple light. His back was to whatever caused the flash, but the cultist standing before him all shielded their eyes and cried out in pain.

But before he could make use of the distraction, he was blown toward them by a powerful gust. His axe fell from his hands as he was fell to the ground and then was dragged by the gust. This was followed by the deafening sound of an explosion. Azgard thought his chest was going to explode.

When everything finally seemed to settle he struggled to rise. The air felt heavy and thick. The scent of ozone saturated the air and the orc choked as he tried to lift his head. Tiny slivers of purple lightning sparked between the rocks and sand all around them.

When he looked back toward the ruins, for a moment Azgard thought he was back in Zangarmarsh. A towering and brilliantly glowing purple mushroom was rising up from the desert floor. Moments later his eyes cleared and he gasped when he realized that what he thought was a mushroom was a narrow pillar of purple flame roiling up into the sky and then spreading out.

Even more surreal were the massive chunks of stone and the ancient mortar walls from the ruins slowly rising into the air. Shafts of purple arcane lightning flared between the floating debris as they spun in the air. The air around them gusted toward the cloud.

Then, in abruptness, the objects in the air fell with earth shaking ground. From the distance, they watched as the walls of the ruins toppled one after the other. Clouds of dust and sand filled the air. Even the rock face that the ruins were set against began tumbling downward. The ground trembled with each mighty impact and then fell silent. Meanwhile, with distant rumblings, the mushroom cloud continued to rise.

Cultist and shaman stared alike at the rising cloud in silent awe. The glow of the otherworldly fire cast dark shadows of their figures on the ground.

Then, there was a snort and an oddly canine growl.

Without hesitation, the unarmed shaman spun around. Lightning shot out from his left arm while his right reached out for the one of the robed figures. The bolt struck the human cultist dead on and he fell twitching. Azgard had little time to celebrate the small victory as he forced the blood elf face first into the desert sand. The orc slammed his boot against her thin neck and felt, more then heard, it snap.

He heard the light footsteps of the worgen, but before he could counter her advancement she was already upon him. She narrowly missed his eyes when she raked her claws across his face. His face burned and blood poured freely from deep lacerations. He blindly swung his fist out, but she her body nimbly over him. In the middle of her jump, she reached out, grabbed his shoulders and used her weight to counter-swing him against a rock outcropping.

Azgard roared as he back flared in with pain. Through his blood covered eyes he saw the worgen sprinting on all fours at a frightening speed toward him. Fighting against the protests of his weakened muscles he issued a challenging roar and charged toward her.

In the ambient purple glow he could see her eyes widen as she realized what he was trying to do. But her momentum was too great and as she got within arm’s length of him, Azgard ducked low, reached out for her hind leg and twisted it.

The worgen cultist, however, wasn’t going down without a fight. Ignoring her snapped ankle, she spun around, raked her claws through the chainmail shielding his back and then spun him behind him and slammed him to the ground.

Azgard heard the metallic sound of the chain mail links falling in pieces behind him just before he was pushed down on his back. She leapt atop him and it took all his strength to push against the worgen. Her jaws snapped perilously close to his neck and her nails encircled his arms and dug deep. He could feel her breath on his neck and her drool falling over his face.

“Enough!” a heavy voice thundered. The fighting all but stopped and some of the cultist separated from the exhausted shamans. The worgen, however, didn’t release Azgard.

“You don’t command us!” she shouted. “Look what they have done to our supplies!” She turned her head back to Azgard and opened her jaws impossibly wide. Azgard could feel his arms weakening. He wouldn’t be able to stop her.

A dark shadow fell upon the pair and the worgen yelped in shock as she was thrown off the orc.

“I said enough!” the broad robed figure yelled. He looked down at Azgard and then at the other shamans and snorted.

Despite the robes, Azgard could see the horns hidden under the cowl. This person was a tauren and apparently a Twilight of some rank for the others to heed his command so quickly.

The tauren looked at the ruins and rapidly fading fire cloud. The lightning had long since ceased and the flames were dying. Only embers flittered into the residual updraft created by the explosion.

“I demand vengeance for what they have done! She would approve!” the worgen snarled, advancing back on Azgard. Without a word, the worgen backhanded the her.

“You were charged with protecting these assets, Anessa. You failed, and no amount of blood letting will change that. She will determine your fate,” the tauren declared. Then he turned to Azgard. “And you disappoint me, old friend.”

Still breathing heavily from the fight, Azgard felt his jaws fall open. He recognized that voice!

“Farseer?” he murmured, as he got to his feet. The surviving shamans slowly approached behind the orc and whispered among themselves. “Farseer Stonehoof?”

The tauren nodded as he pulled back the hood. It was the face of his old friend.

“I don’t understand, farseer,” one of the shamans, a young tauren, spoke out.

“Silence!” Azgard demanded, looking at each of them with a steely gaze. Then he turned to Farseer. “You… you would betray us?”

The tauren shook his head.

“I thought you would leave when I didn’t return. Surely, after the Earthen Ring failed to return your pleas for help, Niashado would have ordered an evacuation to Cenarion Hold. And if she didn’t, then surely you would have counseled her to,” Farseer Stonehoof explained. With a sigh, he shrugged his broad shoulders and shook his head. “I'm sorry old. I saw the truth of what is to come and I went to winning side, but as a friend, I left you plenty of opportunities to leave. Why didn’t you leave?”

The orc lowered his head and flexed his fingers into fists. He felt his rage building.

“We are here to mend Azeroth! ‘You told us we’d do everything to fight for Azeroth!” he bellowed. “And you betray us! You were my friend! We fought in Hyjal together! We fought centaurs in Mulgore together!”

“And as a friend, I gave you every chance to leave!” the tauren retorted. “I saw the truth of what the Aspect of Death plans for this world and I made a choice. But my choice was my own. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“And my warriors who followed you? And the shamans who died in their sleep by these cowards? What were they?”

“The warriors had to be removed. If I didn’t bring them to Her, she would have killed everyone at the settlement. The bombs,” Stonehoof faulted for a moment. “The bombs were not my choice.”

“Their blood demands vengeance!” Azgard roared.

“They are dead my friend, and you come at me with these shamans.” Stonehoof gestured to the volunteers standing awkwardly behind the orc. “Cookie, you’re a cook. Rezzler, you’re an apprentice. None of these are warriors.”

“And yet they know their duty. Even Niashado knows her duty and hasn’t called for us to run away.”

The tauren snorted mirthfully and then stepped closer to the orc and leaned close.

“I didn’t leave her leader by 'accident,'” he whispered. Then he took a step back, leaving the orc pale and speechless.

The purple glow had all but faded by this point, returning the desert to the blackness of night and the dim glow of the rising blue moon.

“She has gone to the settlement, Azgard. Tend to your wounded and return. It be best that you and the others be gone by the time she hears of what has happened here for when she returns her retribution will make the lava fields of The Barrens feel like cold wastelands of Northrend,” Stonehoof added. “And if your new timid 'leader' wants to be brave and still insists upon remaining, then tell her that I have something under the desk for her to see. Something that will give her the clarity to understand her place in this all this.”

The two shamans stared at each other in silence. The blood was slowly drying over the left side of the orc’s face, but he made no move to wipe it off.

“We can’t escape the fate coming to Azeroth. I’ve been a shaman for far longer than you. I have never heard of a single entity that can affect Azeroth quite like the Aspect of Death. He is here and the world’s fate is sealed,” the tauren proclaimed.

“Deathwing is here, but the fate of Azeroth is still not in stone,” Azgard replied.

“Leave Silithus, my friend.”

“We are not friends. You have betrayed me. You have betrayed the Earthen Ring, the Horde and your duty as a shaman!”

The tauren snorted derisively and turned to the rest of the cultists. The robed figures raised their weapons. The worgen, Anessa, licked her shops before falling on all fours. Her eyes were trained on Azgard.

Stonehoof turned his head back toward the shamans and then sighed. “We return to camp!” he ordered. In a lower voice he added, "This is my last gift as a former friend."

The cultists looked momentarily confused and then, with regretful expressions upon their visages, turned and followed the tauren back.

“This isn’t over,” Anessa growled as she stood upright and limped behind the others into the night.

With a gasp, Azgard leaned against a rock outcropping. He felt tired and weak. His body ached and he could only imagine how deep the injury to his face was.

“I’m too old for this shit,” he muttered, looking back at the other shamans who were tending to their wounds.

Tahirus, who’d been watching the cultists as they departed, turned to Azgard as he said this. “What was that? Who was that?”

"He was my friend. A great farseer and the leader of our expedition," the orc explained as he wiped his bloody face with the sleeve of his shirt. "And then when Azeroth shook, his faith was also shaken."

"He led your expedition?" echoed Tahirus. He raised an eyebrow as another thought came to him. "And he appointed Niashado?"

"He was our leader and after the first attack, he led my warriors to strike back at the Twilights. From those of us remaining, he randomly chose her to lead us. The weakest of us."

"Can you be sure?" asked Tahirus. "I mean, can you be absolutely sure that was why he chose her?"

The orc's brow furrowed as he thought over the draenei's words. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd been wondering that very possibility. Stonehoof himself had all but hinted at the possibility.

He had chosen her, thinking she'd order them to give up and runaway.

"It doesn't matter, and we will not even hint at such a thing. Not before her," Azgard snapped. Regardless of Stonehoof's intentions, Niashado hadn't ordered a retreat. She wasn't acting the way the farseer expected and that could possibly work in their favor. But even more ominous would be the ramifications if she ever learned the truth of his intentions for her.

"As soon as the others have rested, we need to make haste toward the settlement," he added. It was just their luck that the Twilights visit while he was away. He was beginning to wonder if he should have stayed.

Yuri Amgryn

Yuri had stopped to eat and recuperate when the bomb had gone off. When a flash of purple light illuminated the crag he’d taken cover in, he froze mid-bite on a piece of dry bread. Then the ground shook, and he sprung forward, dropping the bread and pulling his rifle out. A bullet was already primed in the chamber, so he began a quick sweep of the crag. Eventually, he saw the aftermath of the explosion in the near distance.

“Damn,” he hissed to himself, realizing he wasn’t under attack. He looked down at where the bread had fallen into the dirt. “Double damn.”

He picked up the bread and dusted it off. After two dirt-filled bites, he threw the bread away and spat out the remnants. With his meal spoiled, he decided he’d move on and investigate the cause of the great disturbance. If it meant the chance of running into the Twilight, or some form of life at the very least, it would be a change from his progress so far. He took a swig from his water canteen and departed on a light jog.

---

As Yuri got closer to where he’d seen the light in the sky, he began to feel that something was off. Soon enough, the feeling turned into a noticeable tingling sensation whenever the wind picked up, and a strong smell of burning ozone, clear-cut symptoms of Arcane saturation. That was enough to tell Yuri that he’d probably be running into trouble.

As he crested a low rise, he spotted a number of figures in the near distance. He dropped prone and remained absolutely still, even though he was fairly certain that his already-low profile had gone unnoticed in the near-darkness of the night. He watched their silhouettes moving along the desert for several minutes, and did not move from his position until they were barely visible. Then he rose up and began to move parallel with them, maintaining a distance of at least thirty meters from the closest figure.

They were dressed in dark robes, which suggested to Yuri that they were probably Twilight. That made them potential targets, but as it was impossible to confirm that they were indeed Twilight cultists, he would have to wait until he could be sure before making a kill. From what he could see, they were a motley group, and Yuri thought one of them might even be a Worgen from the way the figure was moving. The one leading them was big enough to be a tauren. The group certainly had the make-up of a group of Twilights, but they could also be Earthen Ring. Yuri was not about to get in an unnecessary tangle when he had specific orders. If this group turned out to be Twilight, they might serve him better alive than dead.

Emilysse Manaleaf

“I hate Silithus.”

The speaker, a kaldorei woman, stood over the corpse of a massive spider. It still smoked from arcane burns all over its grotesque, eight-legged body. Another one lay nearby. This one's cause of death was more ordinary; long, deep scratches traced over the giant arachnid's bulbous body. The owner of the claws that had inflicted those scratches sat nearby, lazily licking them clean. The kaldorei pulled a face.

“Kalesh, that's disgusting,” she chided the large striped sabercat. He lifted his head, brilliant green eyes silently observing her, then went back to cleaning.

The kaldorei, Emilysse Manaleaf, threw up her hands. “Fine, but don't be expecting me to rub your tummy when that spider venom makes you sick. She turned away from the cat's cleaning, which, if anything, had gotten even more smug, and looked around. “Looks like we chased the others off, at least. Maybe we should have accepted the escort that was offered...”

Her mind drifted back to the welcome that she had received at Cenarion Hold. Druids and ancient kaldorei, who held to ancient traditions, faced with a kaldorei mage, recently trained by the Highborne and humans? She was amazed that the hadn't thrown her out on the spot. If looks could kill, she would have been impaled by at least a hundred different pairs of daggers. But she offered to kill silithids. With all the conflicts in the world today diverting attention away from the constant war in Silithus, no one could be denied the safety of their fort. None offering spell or blade could be turned away. Begrudgingly, they had offered her supplies, and a guard to accompany her. He had been a handsome older kaldorei man, a bit grizzled, perhaps, but he would surely clean up well. But the prospect of spending every day listening to an old elf complain about her “turning her back on the ways of her people” and “back in my day” was more than enough to turn her off to the idea.

Besides, she preferred lovers who weren't kaldorei.

It was for the best, really. She might be willing to kill silithids, but not on the scale that the Cenarions would want. For now, she stuck to picking them off around the outsides of their mounds. Several shells and still-twitching legs stuck out of the bags that Kalesh carried. The more powerful silithids deeper inside the mounds would surely have brighter colors, but she wouldn't be tackling those until she was certain of her technique. And it could very well be a long time until she had a chance to test it properly.

The decision to temporarily postpone her studies had been made a few days ago, after... after something she still couldn't explain. It had just been an instant, really. A lighting up of her senses, but enough to jar her from her sleep, gasping in horror. The beginnings of a headache had pounded in her eardrums, and she had stared unerringly towards the source. Her hands had moved without thinking, though, and within seconds the map the Cenarions had given her was spread out in her lap. After a moment to orient herself, she had followed the course. A perfectly-manicured fingernail had lightly tapped a camp marked on the map. It didn't have to be the source. With how far away it was, it was actually very likely that it wasn't. But... But. The arcane signature was very distant, and a weapon powerful enough to cause the headache now throbbing in her temples was not a weapon to be squandered randomly in the desert. And whoever its intended target was would need help.

So she had followed it. Of course she had cursed it first, and the headache made her -very- inventive. There was a fortune that she was postponing for herself. The signature was so distant, and there was no way she could arrive in time to help. She and Kalesh had to travel slowly. It wasn't safe to travel too openly across Silithus, especially as a woman on her own. Silithids swarmed at the drop of a hat, and cultists weren't much better. Despite all of the good reasons to turn around and go about her own business, she still continued.

After slaying the spiders, kaldorei and sabercat traveled a bit further before making camp for the night. If her map was accurate, and she had a few reservations about that, she would reach the shaman's encampment tomorrow. That wasn't something she was looking forward to. The force of what she felt... Elune would be generous if she found anything more than a pile of corpses.

“Worries for tomorrow,” she declared. Kalesh gave a groan, stretched out on his side, and gave her a piteous look. “I did tell you, didn't I?” she asked, then sighed and curled up beside the saber, rubbing his stomach. Kalesh purred softly. The rumbling from the large cat was the last thing she heard as she dozed off. A few hours later, the first thing she heard as she was jarred forcefully awake was her own screaming.

Emmy clutched at her skull, writhing in agony. The huge cat was up in a second, prowling around and looking for a threat. He had no connection to the Arcane. He couldn't feel the massive force of the bomb, ripping the mana from her. After several minutes, the kaldorei curled into a sobbing ball. Kalesh padded over to her and gently nuzzled her.

“Get ready to move, Kalesh.” Emmy's voice was faint, but determined. “We might not be able to help the victims of the first strike, but we can help the second.” She forced herself to her feet, though her slim body swayed dangerously. The headache of four days ago was NOTHING compared to how her head was clanging now. She felt so drained, empty. But she grimly set her teeth and repacked her belongings before obliterating the signs of her small camp. The blast hadn't been far. A few miles to the north. Far closer than the shaman expedition.

When she finally mounted Kalesh and lifted her eyes in the direction of the blast to lead him, she went rigid. There was a giant mushroom billowing over the land. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus through the hammering that made her head feel like a bell made of eggshells that could break any second. Also the gongy part of the bell (she was a scribe, not a bell-maker!) was made of broken glass and dug into her mind with every strike. But she focused, and saw that the mushroom was slowly dissolving before realizing what it meant.

“The source of the blast.” Even the sound of her own voice sent slivers of glass into her head. Who on Azeroth could have survived such a thing? Even miles away from the blast, she was barely conscious! But... But. “When the hell did I get so damn altruistic?”

With a sigh, she spurred the cat forward. No concern about being quiet now. Every creature was hiding from the blast, whether they sensed the actual Arcane nature of it or just felt the huge boom. Kalesh, sensing her urgency, lengthened his stride, sprinting forward. At first, the cool wind rushing against Emmy's face felt soothing. Her head was still pounding like a drum at a crazy troll party (and rather like her head had pounded after that crazy troll party...), but it was nice. As they drew closer, though, there was something wrong. The air didn't soothe any longer. It tingled, and it stank of ozone, like when she cast too much at once. There was also a violet haze, though from the way her mount didn't so much as slow, she didn't think he saw it. He did sneeze a few times, though.

“Fel if you can't stay quiet, just stay here,” she snapped to the cat, slipping off. There was no guarantee that those she was headed to were friends, after all. He gave a soft whimper, then sneezed again. His ears drooped and he lowered himself to his stomach, to wait for her. She gave his head a pat. It wasn't his fault, after all. Then she continued on foot.

The haze got thicker. Whatever had caused the blast, it was definitely Arcane in nature. Her ears were pricked, searching for any sound, since her eyes were less trustworthy. She was kaldorei, and her hearing was excellent, though she was unaware of the blood that had dripped from her ears and dried on her neck. She heard voices before she saw anyone.

"Can you be sure? I mean, can you be absolutely sure that was why he chose her?"

"It doesn't matter, and we will not even hint at such a thing. Not before her. As soon as the others have rested, we need to make haste toward the settlement."

The first voice... she thought she recognized a slight draenic accent. The second was unrepentantly orcish. She altered her path to lead towards the voices, and soon the figures came into focus. She heaved a soft sigh of relief. They weren't dressed like cultists, and the second one spoke of the shaman camp as a home base.

“So, is it you lot I have to thank for the headache that's threatening to tear my skull apart?” she asked as lightly as she could manage, a small, almost seductive smile spreading across her lips. Her silvery eyes widened in shock as she realized the extent of the injuries most of them were sporting. The smile vanished, concern replacing seduction. “By Elune it looks like you've fought a war here!”

Aerilyia

There is no such thing as complete silence. This was a fact that Aerilyia knew intimately, and had from the day of her birth. The wind blew. Living creatures breathed and shifted their bodies. Muscles tensed, or an involuntary sob escaped a pair of lips as a whimper. Every sound was a wealth of information. What one hid from another's prying eyes, one almost always showed plainly to a pair of listening ears.

The settlement was quiet, but not silent. Men and women of different races, different factions, different stations all huddled together in a tight cluster. Before Niashado had come out, their shifting had spoke of fear. Many were breathing fast, as the hunted animal does when the predator is nearby. Soft words were spoken, wondering what to do, offering empty comforts. The shamans stank of fear. After, though, there was hope, and determination. There was still fear, but less.

A hand slipped into her own, small and furry. It was a hand that often sought her own. Aerilya squeezed it reassuringly. “Do not be afraid, Hona. As our leader says, we are the righteous ones here,” she murmured lowly, intended only for the young tauren's ears, though she heard shifting to touch weapons from those nearby.

“Be my eyes for me, Hona. Tell me what's happening,” she requested. Keeping the girl calm would help to keep her from panicking. Again, as she often had, Aeri wondered if perhaps the tauren was too young to be here. But she had never met anyone more powerful with Earth in all of her studies.

“There are Twilights... surrounding the camp. So many of them I can't count that high...”

Perhaps having the tauren describe it for her hadn't been the wisest course of action after all.

“They are holding torches. One of them, their leader, I think, went inside with Nia. The rest are just... just standing around the camp... I'm scared, Aeri,” Hona whimpered.

Aeri leaned down and brushed the top of the girl's head with her lips. “Tell me again about the qualities of Earth, Hona.”

The small jerk in the tauren's body indicated her surprise, but she nodded. “Earth is steady. It is strong. Earth moves slowly except when it does not. It can rage like all of the elements, and shake. Its fury is slow to rise, but terrible when it does. Earth resists change. It is solid, and ancient, and wise. Earth...”

Aeri felt some of the tension leave the girl's shoulders as she spoke. She was grateful. But if what she said was true, then calming her down may not do much good. If there were so many Twilights... and Light help them, there were so very few of them left, and those that remained were, for the most part, not warriors. The cultists would sweep over the camp like a wave. She had no doubt that her people would give a good reckoning for themselves, but there could be only one conclusion. Oh if only the Farseer hadn't gone after the first attack! He, Azgard, and the warriors that they had taken between them could turn the tide against the Twilights now.

“Shut up, cow.”

The rough voice cut Hona's recitation off sharply and she fell silent. Aeri slipped an arm around her shoulders. The tension was back, and now she was trembling. A small uproar went up that was quickly stifled as one of them - judging by the voice, it was Kernd – was taken from the group. Fear clenched her heart. Kernd was a friend. They disagreed on a great many things, but they also laughed together.

<Spirit of Water, bless me with calm. Let me be as the still waters, that others may look on me and not fear.>

Her face was clear. She stood, at 6'9”, a good bit above those who were not of her kind or tauren. Her arm was around Hona. Then there was a commotion from the leader's tent. She strained her ears to hear, but the last sentence she did not have to. It was spoken loudly, for all of the cultists to hear.

“Raze this place.”

She could not see the cultists, but she could feel them moving around her. The sensation was like that of a thousand rats, scurrying around them. Cries of alarm went up from the shamans around her, including Hona. The tauren tried to move to help some of the others, who were issuing war cries and pleas to the elements, but Aeri held her tightly. Her head swiveled around, trying to follow the sounds, but everything was too chaotic. Death cries rent the air, and there was the crackling of fire, a sound far larger than that caused by a torch. Smoke made her cough and wrinkle her nose, and she tried to move herself and Hona to a place of safety.

But the tauren had other ideas. She wriggled free, dashing from Aeri's flailing arms. “For the Earthmother!” Hona cried. The earth beneath them shook furiously. The draenei stumbled, falling to her knees. She heard more than one cultist cry out as the earth swallowed them, and then the rumbling stopped, at the same moment a girlish scream rang out.

“No... oh Light, Hona, no...” Aeri whispered. She crawled towards the source of the scream, her hands trembling as they reached forward. Fur sticky with a hot, thick fluid met her fingers. The body was still. “Hona... oh Hona...”

Amidst the ocean of chaos as the camp was razed, the draenei woman gathered the body of a young tauren in her arms and rocked her slowly. Tears streamed from closed eyes, falling from her cheeks and mingling with the blood of a child. Even after the chaos ended and there were just the whispers of terrified shamans and the stink of burned leather around her, she held the body of her friend.

A few hours later.
Twilight Coven

If silence were a void that could kill, then it would be completely justifiable to believe that Seya Stealclaw was committing mass murder at this very moment. The hooded orcess had said nothing as two of her lieutenants described what happened to the supply depot. Clairvoyance wasn’t needed to feel the anger that was building up. It was almost palpable as the ambient arcane near the epicenter of the distant explosion.

When the two finished a smaller figure also cloaked in Twilight robes stepped forward.

“All of the materials we’ve been amassing at the depot have been destroyed. We lost a half dozen of our numbers and the ruins are no longer a viable location for staging mass materiel teleports,” the goblin announced with a meek voice. He looked nervously between his clipboard and the orc. “Rayatay is currently calculating how this affects our project timetable. It doesn’t look good.”

The silence continued, save for the desert breeze and the rustling of nervous feet. Seya glanced at their eyes and saw nothing but fear in the lesser members. In her lieutenants, she saw something different. Hatred was etched over Anessa Petigrew’s tanned human countenance. Undoubtedly, the former Gilnean aristocrat was shamed by her failure to secure the depot. However, some of that hatred was also directed to the calm tauren standing next to her.

The former Earthen Ring farseer, now Twilight agent, Dakota Stonehoof stood passively. He’d spoken his part coolly and with a little emotion. Likewise, he wasn’t at all perturbed by faux human’s anger.

Behind those two stood the other three of her lieutenants. One was a human male, with carefully sculpted dark hair and steady dark eyes that seemed to almost launch daggers at Stonehoof’s back. Mercer Petigrew was the other Gilnean in this camp and the husband of Anessa. Both wore their aristocracy proudly even though such titles meant nothing amidst the Twilights.

Next to Mercer was the night elf, Xan Nightraven. A kaldorie Highborne and slave trader of little scruples, he almost seemed amused and eager to see what was to happen. Unlike most Highborne and the Petigrews, Xan did little to broadcast his former social status. But like the two worgen, his promotion in the Twilights was mostly in part by what he’d provided for them. And Xan excelled at procuring almost anything they needed. It was one of the only reasons that his proclivity for women and his overly irrational need for wanton violence were tolerated by Seya.

Next to Xan stood the much shorter goblin, Wikers Book. The name was odd for a goblin, but unlike most goblins, he preferred careful study and planning. Truth be told, it was thanks to the painstaking planning by Book and his engineering assistant, Rayatay, that Seya’s project had progressed as far as it had in such little time.

Yet, for everything they were, they still thought in such small terms. Each thought of themselves and not at the destiny of the Twilight as a whole. That suited Seya fine. She thought little of these weak-minded people.

She looked past her lieutenants to the dark sea of cultists who stood ready to heed her next orders. And behind them stood the massive four timber pillars that supported the framework of trusses and girders hanging down. Her hands tightened into fists as she stared at the incomplete construction project.

This wasn’t just about the Twilight’s endgame. This was about her destiny. Hers and hers alone.

They were so close and now it was slipping between her fingers. Her triumph. She would prove her mother and father wrong. Even her grandfather would be forced to admit that she could carry the glory of their family.

And now it was all failing again.

The sound of her brothers laughing at her failures echoed in her mind. Her mother calling her ‘worthless’ and ‘a disappointment’ repeated itself ceaselessly. Her father knocking her aside and proclaiming her a waste of time and resources threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

No! These critens will not see my tears! The memories and the despair often associated with them washed away, to be replaced by super-heated anger. She turned a baleful glance at Dakota Stonehoof.

“You said they would leave when you didn’t return. You said that the fear of another attack along with being cut off from the Earthen Ring would force them to depart Silithus,” Seya said in a soft and controlled voice that contrasted sharply with the mind-shattering rage building up. “You told me these things and yet, they have stubbornly refused to leave. Not only that, but they conducted an incursion into one of my vital supply depots.”

“Azgard is an orc of duty.”

“Do not speak the name of that deceiver to me!” she spat. Her controlled bearing shattered for only a second. “You assured me that the leader you had appointed as your replacement would leave. They showed little sign of leaving last that I saw. The bitch you left in charge even lied to my face and watched me execute one of their own. She lied to me… to protect that orc.”

“I confess that I didn’t expect her to remain as she has,” the tauren replied, still speaking steadily. His serene demeanor only served to anger her more. She stormed toward him.

“Well now we have to destroy them all!” Seya bellowed.

“Doing so will only further increase the intrigue of the Earthen Ring. Currently, their resources are spread thinly. Deepholm, Vash’jir, the Barrens and other heavily damaged areas of Azeroth have their attention. Silithus is a low priority area, but that will change if they’re wiped out,” Stonehoof explained. “Sooner or later they will come in droves.”

“That’s unavoidable now,” Book spoke up, interrupting Seya and Dakota. “Once the shaman militants return to their settlement they will report what they’ve seen. If we use their recent responses as a model, then it would be justifiable to expect their next action may be to inform Cenarion Hold and/or possibly even strike out as us here.”

“We could have killed them all but Dakota stopped us,” Anessa quipped as she looked darkly at Stonehoof.

Without so much as a warning, Seya turned and backhanded the human-form worgen with enough force to knock her back several feet. With a growl, Mercer started to shift and move to protect his mate but stopped when Seya raised her hand and turned to him. A crackling spherical inferno began growing in her palm. “Stay put!”

She looked down at Anessa who was busy wiping the blood that was freely flowing from her broken nose. “You had weapons and the numbers and you allowed a few weakling shamans to just walk into my depot and destroy everything on a whim.”

“I didn’t allow anything,” the woman retorted indigently.

“Then you were simply incompetent?”

“How dare you,” the woman screamed as she got to her feet. Her baggy clothing became tight as her form changed. “You have no idea what Mercer and I sacrificed to do our part for the Great One’s designs. We drained our family’s assets to help this cause and we did so with an open heart. And then you came.

“We know nothing of you? You killed our coven’s leader and take his place without cause or-“ Anessa’s voice broke off when Seya grabbed her neck and hauled her off her feet.

“Your former leader was weak and without ambition. His dismissal was necessary. And if you don’t learn to shut up, your dismissal will become just as necessary. As for my plans, the fewer who know the full intent of my plans, the better.” She threw the worgen on the ground. “I have set this coven on a direction that will make it remembered by all for centuries. We will leave Azeroth with a lasting wound that it will never recover from. Rest assured, it is all for the glory of the Aspect of Death. That, is all you are worthy of knowing.”

Anessa jumped back to her feet and bared her fangs. “We are the laughing stock of all of the Twilight. You have us building this thing and no one knows what for? It’s not an altar. Then you have us collect these parts for these bombs, but for what purpose? You owe us an explanation.”

“Anessa,” Mercer called out pensively. He was trying to calm her down.

“No, Mercer! I’m tired of taking orders from this greenskin. She has a plan and we deserve to know it.”

Seya turned back to the Gilnean, but this time not in rage, but intrigue. “You’re tenacious for your kind. I’ll give you that,” she replied. She looked from her to Stonehoof and then back to Anessa. “Very well. I have a task for first. Complete it and I will know you are worthy. Fail at it and don’t bother returning.”

Grinding her teeth together, the worgen nodded.

“Kill the shaman’s leader. The draenei, Niashado. Bring me her head as proof and you will be rewarded with the knowledge and responsibility you seek. This will be your redemption for your failure at the supply depot,” the orc explained. “Fail, Anessa, and you and your husband will both die. And I promise, I will make it slow.”

“Lady Stealclaw. You risk further committing the shamans against us if you go through with this plan. I must protest,” Book called out.

He has a point, Seya realized. Yet, she’d looked into this draenei ‘s eyes back at the settlement. There was no way she couldn’t have known what Azgard was really going to do. She had lied to protect him, knowing full well that it could have meant her death.

Niashado was no better than that deceiver, Azgard. Seya’s hand crept up to the scarred side of her face. Her lips peeled back in a silent snarl. How dare she deceives me? They’re all deceiving me. They’re probably all laughing at me! Just like my brothers did, as they watched me fail time after time.

“I don’t care!” she bellowed at the goblin, causing him to shrink back. She snapped her head toward the pair of worgens. “Kill their leader! Kill Niashado! Bring me her head or I’ll have both of yours. Now go! All of you leave me!”

A few moments later, she was alone. Her tone of voice carried no question as to the penalty for delay. She looked up at the suspended framework skeleton swaying slightly from its place between the four pillars. The chains holding it up creaked and the wooden trusses groaned.

If she closed her eyes, she could see it complete. The sheer ingenuity and brilliance that would make them be proud of her.

“My destiny,” she muttered to no one.


~~~~


Earthen Ring Settlement

The acrid scent of smoke burned her nose as Niashado helped a group of other shamans bury the smoldering skins of leather from the tents under the sand. Others were trying to call on the Fire Elements to spare them, but that was being met with mixed results. Others were using water elementals to preserve parts of their camp.

In addition to Kernd, who had been executed before her eyes, two more had died as they selflessly tried to stop the Twilights from destroying the settlement. By the time Niashado had recovered from being knocked out by the orcess, the Twilights were gone. In their wake were injured shamans and burning tents and structures.

It was hours before things were under control, but as the smoke cleared, she could see that the devastation had taken from them nearly everything.

They could have killed us all. There must be a reason why they didn’t, and she suspected it had to do with Azgard, but what that was she didn’t know. It didn’t matter, however. Until Azgard returned, there was little more for them to do other than to pick up the pieces.

I should have had us leave. As soon as the storm cleared we should have made for Cenarion Hold, Niashado realized. My stubbornness is the reason these good people are suffering.

“Lass. Except for the farseer’s tent, everything is pretty much destroyed,” one of the dwarves reported. Niashado turned and glanced at the farseer’s tent with a mixture of contempt and embarrassment. It alone had been spared.

“What of the skins that we saved from the flames?”

“Too much damage. Even if we still had enough poles to rebuild the tents, they’d still be left with gaps.”

Niashado shook her head.

“What if pooled all the parts into one large tent? Will there be enough to build at least one tent?” Niashado asked.

“Aye. I think so. It’ll be tight though,” the dwarf replied after a moment of considering.

“Then use materials from the Farseer’s tent as well,” she added without hesitation. “We have a sandstorm coming soon. We need that shelter raised quickly.”

Niashado expected the dwarf to complain. The farseers tent had asked a symbol that their leader would return soon. Even Niashado had refused to take residence inside, and instead used it simply to compile the reports of the day’s activities and to hold meetings. She still slept in the other tents with the shamans, as she had before. Taking it down felt like they were giving up on him.

It was just a symbol, though. Symbols can be replaced. But their lives couldn’t. As soon as she had recovered, the other shamans had warned her of the coming sandstorm. It was still a few hours away, but without shelter they were very dangerous to be caught in.

She tried not to think of Azgard and the others still out there. With any luck, they’ll return before the storm hits.

Niashado nodded grimly as she watched the remaining shamans busying themselves with salvaging what could do from the damaged tents and collecting the pieces for the larger one. One small victory at a time, she reminded herself. At least they aren’t dwelling on tomorrow.

Yet there was one who was simply sitting in near the fire. The body of a young tauren was cradled in her arms. Hona, the shamaness remembered. She was a young tauren apprentice. Hone was around the same age as Yevana, if she remembered correctly.

A draenei with white hair was cradling the tauren’s body. By the subtle shuddering, she could tell that the woman was mourning the loss of her friend.

Niashado slowly walked toward Aerilyia and knelt down to her. Her eyes were closed, but that was no surprise to the shamaness. She knew Aerilyia’s condition better than most. For almost two years, Niashado had been blind after an assault from a death knight. It had been a trying and humbling time. She had learned a lot, but unlike Aerilyia, Niashado had had the benefit of once seeing things.

Being born blind, Niashado often wondered how Aerilyia saw the world in her mind. Nevertheless, she knew better than most, just how brave Aerilyia was to volunteer to serve the Earthen Ring out here. The Elements require patience and the skill to listen, more than the ability to see.

“Aerilyia,” Niashado whispered, as she carefully took the other draenei’s hands. “I am sorry.”

Aerilyia

The Twilights were gone. Aeri recognized that on a distant level. The sounds of fires burning slowly trailed off, but the stench of smoke and burned leather remained. All of these sensations were registered and filed away. But the only thing that she seemed able to focus on was the cooling body in her arms. Her fingers traced over the young tauren's soft features. When Hona had been frightened or sad, she had come to Aeri. The pair had often worked side by side, the tauren learning of healing, and of potion work. The draenei had often had misgivings about whether Hona should have been there in the first place. She was so young! But she and others in the camp could protect her. Or so she'd thought.

Her shoulders shook with sobs. Light, she should be helping the wounded, helping put out the fires, helping SOMEHOW but... She registered the sound of hooves behind her, then a form kneeling. Too lightly done to be a tauren or a draenei man. A slim hand took her own before words were spoken.

“Aerilyia. I am sorry.”

Aeri placed the voice instantly, and lifted her head, 'looking' towards the source of the voice. “She was too young to be here, wasn't she? A child... Light, she should not have been here.” Her voice, usually soft and serene, cracked, and more tears streamed down her pale cheeks.

"She came here for the same reason we all have, you included," Niashado said, speaking quietly, while resting her hand on Aerilyia's shoulder.  "We are all in over our horns, so to say, but we serve something greater.  Hona knew that.  I remember hearing the conviction in her voice.  She loved the Spirits with all her being."

She knelt down next to the unseeing draenei and gently brushed some of the white hair from her face.

"It is ok to mourn, but take solace and strength from her conviction."

Aeri smiled faintly. “She did love the Spirits. She could chatter on all day about Earth.” Her voice trembled, and more tears threatened to spill from her closed eyes, but she took a deep breath, and seemed a bit steadier. “Hona should be... returned to her family.” There was a slight hitch in her voice, but she continued. “Is there anything that I can do to help? Are there any wounded?”

"Mostly smoke inhalation.  The most grievously injured have been stabilized, but everyone is too busy preparing a new tent.  I am sure they would appreciate someone tending to them," Niashado explained.  She looked out into the Silithus wastelands and sighed.  "There is a storm coming and we need shelter."

She started to rise and but froze when she looked down at Hona's body.   They weren't equipped to preserve a body to be returned home.   She wasn't even sure how'd they survive the coming day.   

The only thing they could do was to return the bodies to the earth lest it attracted the giant worms, scorpions and other carrion feeders for miles.   Niashado didn't want to do this.  These deaths were on her hands.   

The shamaness unclasped the totems from the young tauren's belt and placed them in Aerilyia's hands.   "Give them to her family when this is over," she said softly.

Aeri's fingers explored the totems before she turns her head back up to Nia. Sorrow adorned her features, but also understanding. She lifted a hand and lightly touched the other draenei's cheek. “This isn't your fault, Nia. There is not a one of us here who did not know the dangers.” She gently stroked Hona's cheek and smiled. “Not a one of us.”

She clasped the tauren's totems to her chest. “I will see them returned to Hona's family. They will know of her valor, of how her last act was one of defiance against our enemies.” She stood, offering a hand to Nia. “Don't lose your conviction, Nia. Without you, we are lost.”

Niashado couldn't help but to return a weak smile, even though she knew Aerilyia couldn't see it.   She squeezed her hand and stood up.  "I will try.  Thank you."

Aeri carefully affixed Hona's totems to her belt, then picked up her staff. The four crystals dangling from the top that served as her totems chimed musically. She sent a small puff of wind ahead of her, feeling out the new shape of the camp, then beamed at Niashado. “You're not alone, remember. The Light and the Spirits are with us always. And you have us, Nia.” She inclined her head before making her way towards the pallets that the injured were laying on.

Lurena, Mattaka and Yevana
Gadgetzan, Tanaris Desert


There was the scuffling of feet, shouting insults, and fierce kicking. Yevana felt her braids being yanked, her money being taken and her arms being beaten. She couldn't feel her totems anymore, but she most certainly felt her arm being pulled back farther then it was meant to be. Something blunt, like perhaps the stocked of the rifle, was being slammed into her back.

And there was pain.

Then, there was yelling, but of a different sort. Angry ale-laden insults turned to cries of alarm. A rifle went off and from that point only the loudest of sounds made it past the ringing in her ears. Someone picked her up and was taking her someplace but she couldn't concentrate on much through the drunken haze and pain.

She wasn't even aware she was so dazed until her head hit the ground again. The pain shocked her into alertness. She moaned and rubbed her forehead. Her lip felt swollen and her hands hurt from being twisted, but a tentative test confirmed that nothing was broken.

As her vision slowly cleared, the first thing she was greeted with was a pair of steely hazel eyes staring back at her.

Yevana cried out and crawled in reverse until her back slammed against a stack of crates. It was another troll, but not one that she recognized. This one sported blue skin and wore dark leathers. Her purple hair was mostly done in braids, somewhat similar to her own.

This troll had drawn her dagger and was casually pointing it at her.

“Joo mind tellin’ me what joo did to get in dis mess?” the troll asked. It sounded harsh but there was a hint of humor in her voice. “’Cause, joo know, last I checked, dwarves aren’t exactly a good sort for a trolly to consort with.”

"It be a long story," Yevana replied meekly. She glanced around their surrounding and noted that it was a warehouse of some sort. Like most goblin architecture, it was a clay dome, but this one had was filled with stacks upon stacks of wooden crates. A lone oil lamp lit the area near the main doors, which were closed for the moment.

Yevana's hands swept over the pockets of her vest. The money and her totems were gone. "Where are dey? Da dwarves?"

“Dey be gone,” Lurena replied, jerking her head in the direction of the window above them to indicate that she had been keeping track of them. “I be Lurena. Who joo be?”

"Yevana," she replied. She was relieved that at least this woman knew where the dwarves were. "Damn it! Dey took my gold and my totems. Mattaka is gonna kill me."

Raising an eyebrow at Yevana, Lurena reached forward with her dagger and, with the blade flat, rapped Yevana on the head hard enough to get her attention.
“Ey, missy. Joo know, we can worry about dat latah. Right now, I’d like to get joo out of here without ja gettin’ seen. Dis Mattaka, is he ja bruddah?”

Yevana cried out at the impact and rubbed the top of her head. She was about to issue an angry reply, but the flashing eyes of Lurena stopped her short.

"No no... Mattaka is not my brother. Just a friend. He be helping me get to Silithus," the teenager said. She hated losing her father's totems and the gold, but this Lurena was right. Those dwarves were out for blood. "I dink he's at the fight."

Nodding, Lurena withdrew the dagger and sheathed it. She cast a sideways glance at Yevana as she started to rustle through her pack.

“I like joo,” the troll rogue began simply. “And I’d like to help joo out. But before I do, I want to know why dem dwarves were after joo.”

At that, the teenager giggled uncomfortably.

"Well, I was trying to get more money by playing dice wit dem, but den I started winning," the girl explained. "Dat one dwarf woman got mad when I won her rifle. Of course, little lone troll me, against all dem dwarves. Well, dey listen to her, not me. Not fair at all, I says."

Having found what she was looking for in her pack, Lurena listened to the younger troll intently as she began to explain herself. She could only smirk as the girl finished spinning her tale.

“Is dat what joo say? Hmmm,” Lurena mocking rubbed her chin, but quickly pointed her finger at Yevana. “Joo not lying to me, are joo? ‘Cause, joo know, it seems dat dwarves normally be good sports about gamblin’ unless…joo know, someone be cheatin’. Hm?”

Looking crestfallen, she fidgeted with her braids and looked away from Lurena.

"Der may have been some cheatin," Yevana confessed with a sigh. "But I be needin da money. Da shamans in Silithus could have used dat money for mercenaries."

Lurena’s lofty expression faded when Yevana’s words struck a chord in her heart. The young troll’s confession for a need for money resonated with Lurena. Several years ago, Lurena herself needed to raise funds to pay for the ransom on her mother’s head when she had been imprisoned in Blackrock Mountain. The corrupt orcs that resided there had taken her, among others from Orgrimmar, and forced them to join their Dark Horde. When Lurena tried to get her back, she had been caught by the orcs and agreed to pay them large sums of gold in exchange for her safety as well as her mother’s own.

It had been a long time ago, and though Lurena was successful in saving her mother, she still remembered the desperation she had felt when she was in need of money. Nowadays she was comfortable after becoming more accustomed to her ways as a rogue and traveling throughout Azeroth, but she still felt a kinship to the young troll.

Yet something else the troll girl said made Lurena pause. Shamans in Silithus? In need of mercenaries? What were they up to?

“What shamans? Who would send a young troll to get money for dem?” Lurena suddenly demanded. She stared intently at Yevana as she leaned in close.

"Well, dey didn't want to send me, but dey didn't have a choice," Yevana explained. She began rapidly describing the events that led up to her departure. How her father had died that night because of the mana bombs and how their farseer had left with the warriors to fight back. Then, how he had left another shaman in charge and how Azgard had persuaded her to allow Yevana to go get help.

She mentioned the Twilight human attacking her at the border of Feralas and Mattaka rescuing her. And then there was the theft of the wyvern from Camp Mojache. By the time the girl was finished, she was nearly out of breath.

"So joo see, we be needin any help. I want dem to pay for taking my da, but for hurting us, but I am afraid of what has happened since we be gone," Yevana concluded.

Lurena stayed very quiet while Yevana told her everything. Her eyes widened at the mentioning of who encouraged her to get help. The name made her insides clench; she hadn’t heard it in years.

Without a word on Yevana’s story, Lurena stood up abruptly and tossed a hooded cloak over to her. Equipping her pack, Lurena tossed her braids over her shoulder as she looked down at Yevana.

“Put dat on. We gonna find ja friend Mattaka,” she said briskly. “From here on out, joo got my full support.”

"Really, Lurena? Joo will help us?" the troll exclaimed excitedly as she threw on the heavy cloak. "Dat will be great! We be needin it."

A smile slipped through Lurena’s determined expression; she couldn’t stay that serious when the younger troll was that excited about her aid. Besides, Lurena couldn’t help but feel a little excited herself; it had been a while since she had seen that particular shaman.

“Come on, let’s go,” Lurena directed. “Keep dat hood on and cover ja face; we don’t want dem dwarves to spot ja easily while we look for ja friend.”

Together the two trolls made their way out of the warehouse. Lurena made sure to be cautious as she led the younger troll out of the shipping district. Keeping an eye out for the group of dwarves, Lurena kept a firm grip on Yevana’s hand in case any problems were to arise. The last thing she wanted was to be separated.

As they got closer to the crowd, Lurena accidentally bumped into a Tauren as she was checking around the area. The tauren snorted down at her and Yevana. “Watch where you and your daughter are going!” the tauren snapped gruffly.

Feeling her cheeks darken and her eyes widen in embarrassment, Lurena shot back, “She NOT BE my daughtah! Why don’t JOO watch where JOO be goin’?!” Baring her tusks at the tauren, she continued to glare at him until he walked away.

Once the tauren was gone, Lurena took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. The idea that she would have a daughter by now – ridiculous! She glanced over at Yevana, who was giving her a skeptical look.

“What?” Lurena demanded, still on a high from yelling at the tauren.

“Joo know, maybe nobody tink dat joo be my mama if ja didn’t insist on holdin’ my hand…” Yevana began, but Lurena shook her head.

“Come on,” Lurena growled, refusing to admit defeat. The two trolls had finally reached the crowd that surrounded the fight ring, and Lurena could hear the announcer orchestrating the fight. She briefly worried about what her friends were up to and how her bets were doing, but quickly perished the thought. There were bigger things on her mind now.

Many in the crowd were pushing and yelling, so it was difficult for Lurena to scan everyone’s faces. At one point someone tried to cut through Yevana and Lurena, but the rogue pushed them off. It was the whole reason why she insisted on holding the damn girl’s hand. She did not want to get separated while helping the girl.

Mattaka was becoming quite worried now. It’d been a few hours since he had basically pushed Yevana off on her own, which in retrospect, was probably a mistake. The next fight was starting but he was frantically searching faces. The fact that Yevana was younger and smaller than other trolls made it harder, because she blended in with too many other races height-wise.

Yevana winced as Lurena dragged her by the wrist. The troll's grip was like vice, but it relaxed a bit once they made to the thick crowds.

She wasn't sure how they'd find Mattaka in this mess. Yevana considered calling out, but the last thing she wanted was for those dwarves to hear her voice.

Then she saw it! It was almost like a shark fin gliding just above the sea of heads. Twisting from Lurena's grip, she pushed between two bystanders and raced toward the green Mohawk.

"Mattaka!" she cried out, kicking the back of his foot.

“Ow!” Mattaka whirled around, seeing Yevanna standing before her. His relief quickly disappeared when he saw the bruises on her face. “Spirits, what happened to you?” Then he noticed the older troll girl following her. “And who’s that?”

The young troll suddenly felt self-conscious of her appearance and lowered her head slightly. She glanced around cautiously and pulled the hood tighter over her head.

"Ahhh… Just a bit of trouble," she tried to explain. Then she gestured to the woman behind her. "Dis be Lurena. She helped me out of dat trouble."

“What kinda trouble?” he asked her suspiciously. He gave a suspicious look towards Lurena as well. She was attractive enough, and her armor suggested confidence and roguishness, and he wasn’t certain he trusted that.

Yevana groaned and twirled a braid of purple hair around one of her fingers. The shame she felt was the same kind when she was brought before her father after being caught doing something stupid in Sen'jin. It didn't feel right to feel the same way amongst strangers.

And yet, it did.

"I tried playing dice wit some dwarves. I was winning," she replied with a hint of pride in her voice.

Mattaka looked surprised. “What? Why were you doing that?”

"Well, I thought we could use more den two copper," she commented. "I thought, maybe I can make more coins."

It’s true that Mattaka hadn’t given her much when he left her, which had probably been his mistake. “THEN what happened?” he pressed.

The teenager's shoulders slumped and she sighed deeply. Then, with a deep breath, she began to recall everything that had happened. She began with what she considered was a brilliant shamanistic tactic to the chase and her losing all the money, and finally to Lurena saving her.

"She got me out a lot of trouble, but dem dwarves may still be looking for me," Yevana concluded. She looked up at the druid. "I'm sorry."

As she continued her story, Mattaka’s face changed from surprised to worry to irritation. “You know, if you can’t be keepin’ out of trouble in Gadgetzan, how do you expect to fight the Cultists? I trusted you when you said you could look after yourself. But now I think the tauren may have been right.”

Yevana felt tears stinging her eyes and she looked down and away from Mattaka. He wasn't saying anything that she wasn’t already thinking. She could hear her father admonishing her over her lack of responsibility.

She was trying to help. Those dwarves were just gambling amongst themselves. What would that money go towards? More ale? At least her plan would have helped them all. And it would have worked if that goblin machine shop had kept making that racket like it should have.

"Look, I tried to help!" she cried out tearfully. "I can look after myself, Mattaka!"

“I’m not sure you can,” he replied sourly.

“Give da girl a break,” Lurena interjected, having heard enough. She stepped closer so that the male troll could hear her. “I tink dat she knows better den to try dat again, right?” She gave the girl a hard look. “Right?”

“Right,” she mumbled begrudgingly, still sniffling. She looked up at the older trolls and sighed. They were looking at her like she was some clumsy incompetent ogre. If she had managed to fool those dwarves and brought enough gold for a feast would they be saying the same thing? She doubted it.

“Lurena, was it? We’re grateful for your help, but this is a dangerous mission we’re getting’ into. If I can’t trust her to say outta trouble with a couple of dwarves, how is she going to go against the Twilights?”

"You ain't my da," the girl all but growled at Mattaka. Her watery hazel eyes looked up at Mattaka in defiance. "I be needin your help, but if you won't help me, den I just go by myself. Dem Twilights attacked us wit no honor. I will do whatever I can to help the others. My da would have wanted me to do that."

“Did your father want you to die because you were unprepared?” he said.

At that, Yevana grew very quiet. Lurena watched as the girl suddenly started to try and walk away. Immediately the rogue grabbed the teenager’s arm. When Yevana turned to give Lurena a scandalized look, the rogue just stared back at her and said quietly, “No, joo stay.” She then turned her attention to Mattaka.

“Dat’s enough,” Lurena growled warningly. She tossed her hair back as it started to fall over her eyes. “Mattaka, is it?” she began, using the same tone the male troll used on her. “I know dat it ain’t my place to say anyting, but I tink dat joo went too far. Da girl just lost her fathah. Have some tact, man. She was just tryin’ to help. Anyone could see dat. What she needs right now is someone to guide her through da mistakes she be makin’ and not someone just tellin’ her dat she be wrong.”

Folding her arms tentatively, Lurena lowered her head as she met Mattaka’s eyes. “Look mon, I didn’t want to get in a fight with joo. I came here to help. Dis trolly told me about da trouble joo folks be havin’ with da cultists and I want to give ja my blade.”

Mattaka folded his arms, sighing. He looked from Yevana, who wouldn’t meet his eyes, and back to Lurena. “Well, we’d be grateful for the help,” he said quietly. Spirits, he had really let his temper get away from him. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but at the same time he was plagued by doubts.

Bringing her back was looking more and more like the wrong decision. Perhaps he had been too hasty, too willing to believe she could hold her own once he saw the fire in her eyes. And his heart had been too willing to go along with that decision. But now what choice did he have? He couldn’t leave her in Gadgetzan. She’d just follow anyway at this point.

He’d let the shamans decide, once they were back at the camp. Sighing again, he spoke. “Look, Yevana…I’m sorry about what I said. I let my temper get away from me. Do you ah…does your face still hurt?” he asked quietly.

Yevana’s defiance deflated under Lurena’s strong grip and Mattaka’s subsequent apology. She had made a dangerous choice and gotten hurt for it. But the worst part was that she sullied the promise she had given the druid earlier. She violated his trust. Mattaka was right and more than anything, that was what was burning the girl inside.

“No Mattaka. You right. Because of me, da money you gave me is gone and der still nuttin to eat. What I did was foolish,” she said, rubbing the dark spot under her eyes. With the adrenalin fading away, she was becoming more aware of the aches and pains around her body. “Yeah. It still hurts.”

Mattaka sighed, reaching to cup the younger troll’s face in his hand. “I have a bit more money,” he mumbled, channeling his healing magic. Her split lip began to heal, and the bruises he began to fade. He did a little more just to take the edge off the aches she must be feeling. He finished, dropping his hand back to his side. “I got us a place to stay, too. Well, a floor with a roof over it, really. But we can sleep there tonight.” He reached back into the satchel around his waist, pulling out a pitiful handful of copper. “We’ll…figure out something for food.”

Letting out a loud, annoyed sigh, Lurena waved her hand in the air as if she were trying to swat away a bothersome fly.

“Listen to ja two! Joo folks be fine. Stop witcha sad faces. Joo both got me, remember? I came here to see da fight. I didn’t come empty handed or with no place to stay!”

With a toothy grin, Lurena pulled out her satchel and patted it. “I been doin’ a lot of work over da past few years, and let’s just say dat joo folks won’t have to worry about tings like food if ja stick with me. Now, come on, I got a nice room at da inn that I still gotta get into. We can get some food dere.”

Motioning for Yevana and Mattaka to follow her, Lurena couldn’t help but grin. She was enjoying this.


~~~~


While they wove through the crowds following Lurena to the inn, Yevana couldn't stop thinking about how much money the woman had. She'd never seen a coin purse that looked so heavy. The thought of having that much gold was bewildering to the younger troll.

"Mattaka? What joo dink dat Lurena be doin to be dat rich?" she whispered to the druid.

Mattaka looked down at the younger troll. He grumbled slightly under his breath. "Eh...I doubt most of it was gotten by honest means."

He still didn't quite trust their new "friend", and she seemed hardly that willing to give personal details about herself. Yes, she had saved Yevanna. But he couldn't quite figure out the angle. They had almost nothing, so she wasn't going to rob them later. Unless she actually meant what she said. Mattaka had volunteered to help Yevanna, but that came from the values instilled upon him by druids, he knew. Perhaps her intents were actually honest. Mattaka couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"Maybe, but if she be takin it from mean old dwarves, den is that so bad?" the girl quipped as she pushed on through the crowds. "And if you be workin alone, joo can pick da jobs joo want. Must be fun to be livin like she does."

Mattaka was about to retort that the 'mean old dwarves' had been minding their own business probably before Yevanna came along, but kept it to himself. Instead he said "I'm sure it's fun to live without havin' any sort of responsibility or any obligations. Unfortunately, it's somethin' not a lot of druids or shamans have the luxury of."

Mattaka usually wasn't one to lecture, but the whole evening ordeal had left him in a bit of a sour mood. He sighed, adding, "Look, just be careful around her, alright? We hardly know her, though her intentions seem true."

Yevana felt her ears burn at the admonishment. The life of an adventurer seemed so appealing. And she knew there were shamans who worked independently. Even that draenei in charge of the settlement now, Niashado was an independent shaman before volunteering for a more active role in the Earthen Ring following the Shattering.

Besides, even being independent, Yevana knew she'd still have obligations to her people and to her calling. She was sure that Lurena was the same way. It's not like she'd help a bunch of random elves or anything, but the odd task or two that arose that the Horde needed help with was certainly worth taking up. And, shamans were always needed somewhere.

The more she thought of it, the more eager she was about trying it out. It had certainly worked out for Lurena. The troll woman seemed so fearless as she wove her way through town. She didn't even seem to care of the dwarves she had attacked saw her. And these crowds of mixed races didn't seem to faze her.

She glanced back at Mattaka and noticed how tense he seemed to be. He must still be upset about the stunt she had tried.

"At least we won't be sleeping in da streets," she added with a lopsided grin, hoping to cheer him up a little.

Mattaka gave her a sidelong look, reading the eagerness in her eyes and her lopsided grin.

"No, we just might have our throats cut or be robbed blind under the illumination of safety," he muttered. He didn't really sense it with Lurena though, but only a fool would let their guard down completely in front of strangers.

Yevana's eyes widened at what she heard. But they were poor and carried little else beyond the clothes they were wearing. What more could possibly be taken from them.

But she didn't know that Mattaka was almost as broke as she. What if Lurena tried to harm him? Or worse, what if Lurena harms the people in the settlement? What if she was bringing danger to them?

Could Lurena do that? More importantly, would she?

Her thoughts were interrupted as they entered the inn. Yevana concentrated instead on trying not to look as ill at ease as she felt.

Motioning for the two to wait, Lurena walked up to the innkeeper, a bespectacled squat goblin with a hooked nose and greasy dark hair. She started talking to him, and the goblin glared up at her as she did. He raised a hand and gestured for the troll to leave. Narrowing her eyes, Lurena violently jabbed her index finger on the scroll that was in front of the goblin and pointed to where the rooms were. Adjusting his glasses, the goblin leaned over and pored over the scroll while Lurena placed an angry hand on her hip and tapped her foot. Blinking, the goblin sat back and nervously raised a hand as if to defend himself while he spoke to the troll rogue in a whimpering manner. Lurena slammed her hand on the desk, making the goblin jump. Finally, the goblin sighed and opened a coin bag, taking out a couple of gold coins as well as a key and deposited them begrudgingly into Lurena’s outstretched hand. With a smirk, Lurena tipped her head at the innkeeper and turned towards Mattaka and Yevana, waving them over.

“C’mon folks, let’s go. We’ll be gettin’ some food in a moment!” she called cheerfully before heading down the hallway.

Yevana watched the entire exchange in awe. Lurena was completely in charge and she even had a goblin giving her money and a key! This troll was amazing.

A quick glance at her druid companion was enough for her to know that Mattaka was less then excited, although she doubted that even he could turn down an offer for a safe place to sleep and a good meal. Especially after all that flying he'd done.

They followed Lurena through the crowded hallway of the inn. The goblin innkeeper had even rented out space on the floor for the extra visitors they were having. It was difficult trying to weave through the crowds and she narrowly avoided stepping on a tauren's tail at one point.

“Go ahead and rest,” Lurena offered as she opened the door to the room to Mattaka and Yevana. Once they were inside, Lurena took a look both ways down the hallway before closing the door. For a brief moment, her expression was stern as she tightened her leather gloves, but the moment passed as she looked over at Yevana. Her eyes brightened as she placed her pack down on a nearby chair.

Taking out her daggers, she scraped them together, making sure of their sharpness. She looked over at Yevana and Mattaka. “Joo folks get some rest tonight. I’ll be goin’ out but I’ll be back later. Da food should be comin’—”

Right as she was speaking, there was a knock on the door. Lurena turned, delighted, as she opened the door to let in a goblin woman carrying a tray full of fresh, hot boar meat, bread, fruits and juice. “Good timin’,” Lurena complimented as the goblin woman placed the food down on the table. Taking a gold coin out of her pack, Lurena handed it to the goblin woman who hastily stuffed it in her pocket and left without another word.

“Goblins,” Lurena murmured under her breath as she watched the woman leave. She looked back to the others and smiled. “Okay, joo folks go ahead and eat. I still have some business to do but I’ll be back latah. Joo can manage without me, right?”

"Where joo be going?" Yevana blurted as she grabbed a leg of boar meat. She hadn't eaten a thing since Camp Mojache and could barely contain herself with all this good food. But she was also curious about what business Lurena had to do. "Can I come?"

Glancing over at Mattaka, Lurena raised her chin slightly before facing Yevana, whose mouth was dripping with food. The rogue couldn’t help but smile at her. “I’m sorry, but it’s someting dat I must do alone. I’ll be back later though. Don’t worry. Enjoy ja food and get some rest. I’m sure dat we got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.”

Bowing her head, Lurena waved to Yevana before disappearing out of the room, closing the door behind her.

There were just a few things she needed to do before leaving Gadgetztan. It was a shame that she had to use her blades so quickly.

Yevana watched the door shut and slumped down on the wall. She really wanted to find out what someone like Lurena was going to do, but at the same time she was also hungry and tired. It had indeed been a really busy day.

She took another bite, but slowed down as she recalled all that had occurred for her to be at this point. And then she remembered the reason that began it all. Her people, the shamans in Silithus, needed help. That was her duty first and foremost.

The young troll looked down at the food and sat against the wall. She grew more somber at the thought of all those shamans, people who cared and worked with her father, having so little and facing so much danger. Guilt stabbed at her at the thought that they might all be dead and here she was, gorging on food and thinking of adventure.

Her father would probably be disappointed.

Finishing the boar leg, she gulped down some water, took a chunk of the bread and walked over to one of the sleeping mats in the room. She didn't feel like talking anymore. She even felt the interest she had Lurena's activities fading away.

"I hope dey ok," she muttered quietly as she laid on down on the mat.

Azgard, Tahirus, Emilyssye
Near the destroyed Twilight depot in Silithus

At the first sound of newcomer’s voice, Azgard was back on his feet and with his axe at the ready. The double sided blade erupted in flames at his call, bathing the area around them in flickering orange light.

He’d been prepared for the voice to be from a female, but hadn’t expected it to come from a night elf. Then again, with some disconcerting apprehension, he realized that perhaps he should have. Night elves were apt at being stealthy which would explain how she’d appeared almost in their midst without warning. Most were worthy adversaries; skillful and savage in their own right.

Or perhaps he didn’t realize she was approaching because he was fatigued. The fight had taken a toll on his body and his age wasn’t making matters easier.

To be young and strong again, the often lamented thought crossed his mind. However, his thoughts darkened with the memories of what he’d done when he was younger and stronger. All those younger years wasted in a mindless demonic-fueled bloodlust.

He shook the thoughts from his mind and growled. Behind him, the surviving shamans raised their weapons and dispersed around the field. This elf’s arrival could spell the resurgence of another attack.

Yet, there was something about her demeanor and even attire that confused him. She was wearing robes that were much too… delicate for this area. The staff she held looked far too ornamental to be adequate for combat. Even her form was skinnier then most elves he’d encountered.

This night elf wasn’t a fighter. More accurately, she didn’t seem to be a proficient physical fighter. That didn’t mean she wasn’t a threat. Her attire and staff meant that she probably preferred to utilize magic. But she didn’t carry the faint aura of natural magic that most druids had.

He grew tense and took a step toward her.

“What do you want?” Azgard demanded. He wasn’t going to take any chances.


~~~~


“A hundred million gold and a vacation home in Ramkahen. As well as a few dozen naked blood elf men to feed me grapes and rub oil all over my body,” Emilysse replied, keeping her voice light. “Though right now I would settle for an apology for whoever caused the migraine ripping my skull apart.”

Her silvery eyes surveyed the scene before returning to the orc. “Look, big guy, I just came to see if anyone was hurt in that blast. I was originally coming to try and help with the first one four days ago, but... this one seemed a more pressing issue.” Her gaze swept up and down his body, a long, delicate eyebrow quirked at his Twilight attire. “You don't strike me as a Twilight, darling. I take it you just enjoy their sense of style?” she asked with a mischievous grin. “It's a bit dark for my tastes, but for some reason the morbid seems to suit you very well.”

She took a deep breath and then sighed. “Look, I'm not the best healer, but I know my way around a poultice. And you lot look just pathetically wounded enough that I'm willing to help. Though I could leave,” she offered, cocking her head to the side and shifting her hips. One perfectly-manicured hand curled around her staff, while the other clutched her hip-length forest green braid and tugged.


~~~~


Tahirus looked between Azgard and the elf newcomer. Things were already on edge after the confrontation with Azgard’s former-leader-turned-Twilight, and now that this elf had come seemingly out of the blue, Tahirus felt the situation spiraling completely out of control.

“How do we know you’re not Twilight?” asked Tahirus. He dropped his totem into the sand and kept his hand on the head of the weapon. “Most people travelling this late aren’t up to anything good, in my experience. And this is Silithus.”

To Tahirus, the elf’s mannerisms lent to an appearance of independence without accident; she seemed too dangerous or troublesome to be with company. Over several millennia, Tahirus learned that someone’s introduction was usually a lie, or half-truth at the very least. He’d also learned to read lies and half-truths, and his instinct was telling him that she was likely not Twilight, but that in no way meant she was an ally, and certainly not deserving of any trust.

“What are you doing out here?”


~~~~


“I wasn't traveling at night. Are you insane? Do you have any idea how many night-dwelling -things- there are here?” she asks with a horrified look at the draenei. “I was sleeping contentedly, rubbing the belly of a fool of a nightsaber who managed to ingest some spider venom and dreaming of a few of those blood elf men, when my head just about exploded,” the elf explained, her lips curling into a small smile. “Still clanging like a bell, thanks for your concern.”

“Look, that... that... whatever it was that almost blew my brains out...” She hesitated, and then sighed. “I couldn't cast so much as a spark right now. The residue, the haze... can't you feel it? It muddles my grasp of the Arcane, sends my orders down unfamiliar roads. My senses are lighting up like a Lunar Festival firework.” She paused and chuckled softly. “It's not helping the headache, let me tell you.”

Well, it was out. The fact that as long as they were here, she was almost helpless. She shifted slightly, frowning as though there were a bad taste in her mouth. Helpless. That was NOT a word that she enjoyed. “But look, I don't want to ruffle any of your feathers. Clearly you are just fine without any sort of help.” Her eyes drifted over to one of the more grievously-wounded shamans, the troll clutching a broken arm to a gash in his chest, then returned to looking between Azgard and Tahirus.


~~~~


Azgard frowned as he listened. He wasn't sure how to respond to this elf. He'd had his share of encounters with kaldorei in the past. Some encounters had been hostile, but a few were in the spirit of cooperation.

But this one was strange, and he found his preconceptions being tested. Her mentioning of the arcane confirmed his suspicions about her magical alignment. This only further strengthened his suspicions. The only night elves he knew of who practiced this kind of magic were friends to no one.

And he couldn't think of a single night elf who would speak fondly of wanting the company of a blood elf. In general, the elves didn't much care for each other's company. That, and what would a night elf find attractive about the frail, emaciated excuse for what passes as a sindorei male?

He shrugged the thought away and lowered his axe a little. He reached out to the elements and found his connection muddled slightly. The mana bomb being arcane in nature would undoubtedly have a profound effect on nearby mages.

He turned toward the injured shamans and then to the body of the one who had been killed. Perhaps she was being truthful. If so, then she’d be a valuable asset. However, if her intentions weren’t, then keeping her close by would also serve to allow them to keep an eye on her.

“Your help would be appreciated, night elf,” Azgard relented, albeit reluctantly. He shrugged off the Twilight disguise from his broad shoulder, revealing the chain mail armor and leather slacks he was wearing. The back of the mail vest was in tatters from the attack with the worgen. “I’m Azgard Bloodtusk. This is Tahirus. Our settlement is but a half day’s hike north and we need to start moving soon.

“The Twilights won’t like what we’ve done with their depot,” he added with a slight grin. “I can tend to your night saber’s illness if you will allow us to have him carry our more grievously wounded.”


~~~~


Emmy beamed at the orc. “Keep letting me get my way, Green, and we'll be the best of friends,” she chirped. “I'm Emilysse Manaleaf. It's a pleasure to meet the pair of you.” She blew a quick, three-note whistle. “Kalesh is fine, have no fear of that. He's eaten worse things,” she assured the orc as she glanced back the way they had come. Now that she seemed mostly out of danger of getting an axe to the skull, the whole situation seemed very amusing to her.

“Twilights are the most fun to pick on. They take everything so damn personally!” she exclaimed as a huge nightsaber wandered up beside her and she started to dig in her pack, tossing twitching silithid legs and bits of carapace, as well as filmy dresses out over her head before finding her herbs and bandages. “There was this one time, in the Highlands. There's a flower there, Twilight Jasmine, that makes the most GORGEOUS shade of violet ink when you soften it with just the barest touch of peacebloom. Do I have some...” She looked back at her bag, then up at her audience and grinned. “But I guess you don't really care about that. Anyway,” she continued as she walked over to the troll and knelt beside him, tossing herbs into a bowl and grinding them, “I was there gathering jasmine, when I stumbled upon this small group of Twilights. They were the usual run of the mill psychos, you know the type. But I seemed to have caught them in the middle of some ceremony. They were all chanting and wailing, and the leader kept throwing things in the fire. It smelled absolutely foul.”

She wrinkled her nose at the memory, then pulled the troll's armor open, a smirk tugging at her lips as her eyes ran over his chest. “You can call me Emmy, handsome,” she cooed with a wink before applying the concoction and wrapping bandages around his chest, then turned her attention to his arm. “So these cultists are all completely caught up in their ceremony. They don't even notice me sneak in and start stealing the vials that they were throwing in the fire. I grab them all and make it back to the trees before the psycho-leader notices.” She worked as she spoke, and hand the troll's sleeve rolled up. “This will hurt, sweetheart. So sorry,” she murmured before pushing the bone back in place, then splinting it. She dug through her herbs again, continuing her story. “The leader finally notices when one of the vials she was reaching for wasn't there. Everyone stops their chanting and it goes so still. Then the leader starts SHRIEKING and accusing all of her underlings of sabotaging her and resisting the will of the Old Gods.”

She pushed a sprig of a green herb into the troll's mouth. “Chew it, but don't swallow. It'll help with the pain,” she promised before moving on to someone else. “The whole group goes absolutely berserk. Apparently they don't like having their faith in their twisted gods questioned. They all just started butchering each other, right then and there.” The elf hesitated, biting her lip. “It's okay to find it funny because they want to destroy the world, right? I'm never certain on the specifics of group slaughter.” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “In any case, the leader survived, and I managed to sneak in and put the vials back. She looked over and saw them and went 'Oh! We can continue the ritual!' And she DID, right there, with all the dead bodies around her, like there was nothing wrong or unusual.” She shuddered as she bandaged a tauren's leg. “That's not a very good ending to a story, is it? It just leaves you with all kinds of heebie-jeebies.”

She straightened up, dusting her hands off. “Should keep most of you in one piece until we get there, hmm?” Her gaze moved over the other shamans. “We'll be moving slowly if Kalesh is going to carry some of you. Hope the rest of you are up for a fight.”

Tahirus tapped the top of his large war totem and shook his head. “The bomb has weakened my bond with the elements. I doubt I will be able to communicate with the spirits for some time.” He hefted the totem over his shoulder, and turned to address Azgard. “Once we’re back at the camp, I will explain everything.”

Azgard tried his best to keep up with everything the night elf said, but that soon turned into a fruitless exercise. She just kept going on and on about something having to do with herbs and Twilights and… well, he lost track of it all. His mind was elsewhere.

He wasn't sure what to make of this Emilysse Manaleaf, but she was atypical of most night elves he'd ever known or worked with. Night elves were typically quiet and reserved. But the way Emilysse spoke, he didn't think she was capable of holding a secret.

Still, she was providing them with aid and offering her saber. For now, this was the most fortunate opportunity as they'd had in the last four days.

Nodding his thanks to Emilysse, he turned to the other shamans and started ordering them to carefully load the injured on the saber. "We move out."


* * *
A few hours later


No one said anything as they hiked back. They were victorious and while Azgard hated to play the number game, they were fortunate to have accomplished what they did with only one fatality.

But the revelation that their once beloved leader had not only joined with Twilight Cult, but aided them in their initial attack weighed heavily upon them. And, although Azgard sought to maintain a stoic appearance for the sake of these shamans, the truth was, he was seething from the betrayal, and his failure to catch it.

Farseer Stonehoof had been his friend. Hell, Stonehoof was responsible for helping Azgard walk with the spirits. Because of him, Azgard followed the path of shamanism. He trusted the tauren with his family. When his wife and child died in a quilboar raid on his home in the Barrens, it was Stonehoof who had delievered the news and helped him during those dark years.

And when Azgard had been dishonorably discharged from the Horde army, it was Stonehoof who helped him regain his footing and find peace with life beyond that of a soldier. He was a shaman, and his life now revolved around the elements. He still had his honor, despite what the commanders may thing.

Stonehoof had been more than a friend to Azgard. He often likened the wizened old bull to his father. Their friendship was forged in battle and in faith. It was a foundation he always imaged would be unshakable.

Until today. Now, nothing seemed to make sense.

Except his duty. He still had to protect these people. He'd sworn he would and now more than ever he had to.

He looked back and saw Tahirus keeping step with him. His face darkened. Earlier Tahirus had claimed that he was unable to assist the others healing because of the saturation of Arcane in the area.

The increase in the ambient arcane had indeed muffled Azgard's ability to listen to the spirits, but he felt he could still reach out to them. And with each mile, the arcane 'static' so to say, was fading.

Perhaps Tahirus wasn't as strong a shaman as he had originally believed him to be.

"That bomb didn't work the same way the others did earlier," the orc growled. He didn't bother to turn toward the draenei. He was more worried about the unexpectedly massive yield of this bomb.

It was a terrifying thought. What if those bombs that had killed so many of his fellow shamans had failed to properly detonate, as they should have? What if they had intended to work the way this one had? The thought of so much destructive power contained in such a small object was more then a bit worrisome.

"What do you know of these devices?" the orc asked the draenei. "You knew how to activate the one in the depot. Is that the way they're supposed to work?"

"I came across an earlier version of the bomb some time ago, when the Cult of the Damned was manufacturing them under Charles Marand s mining operation. They were similar to the bombs used on Draenor. But that one," Tahirus paused and shook his head. "I have never seen a mana weapon of such power. The explosive radius, the Arcane distortion everything that I remembered has been amplified."

Azgard grumbled. Using time bombs was a cowardly way to fight. He shouldn’t be all that surprised that the Twilights would resort to such methods. But what were they intending to do with such devices? Certainly antagonizing a lone neutral settlement in this wasteland wasn’t their endgame.

His thoughts again drifted toward his former friend. Questions burned in his mind. How had he missed the warning signs? Was he sloppy, or had Farseer Stonehoof hid his intentions that well?

Other darker thoughts also encroached upon his mind. What was he going to tell the others when they got to the settlement? These are shamans; not soldiers. Since the Shattering, almost every effort by the Earthen Ring to rectify the damage Deathwing had done had failed. Those elements that hadn’t completely sided with the crazed dragon were too chaotic to be pacified. And there was also opposition from various anarchist groups, like the Twilights, to the skirmishes between the Alliance and Horde.

For the first time, the Earthen Ring was finding it difficult to find support, even with the Horde.

All of these discouragements were already weighing down on these shamans. Then there was the first attack, which all but decimated, an unpopular change of leadership and now the terrible news he must bring. How much more can these shamans take?

And yet, all of Azgard’s thoughts kept rolling back to his friend. Stonehoof betrayed him, betrayed the Earthen Ring, betrayed the Horde, his people and even Azeroth as a world. Had Azgard been truly blind to not see this coming, or did the betrayal go deeper? What if the reason the Earthen Ring were encountering so many problems was because there were turncoats in their midst? Such things have been known to occur, but never within the Ring.

The lines on the orc’s scarred face grew deeper as he thought back to Stonehoof’s final act. He had appointed Niashado as leader. Suddenly it made sense. The draenei was keeping him from sending people against the Twilights in order to protect them. She had refused his request to summon mercenaries and only relented after he’d gone around her back. She was even keeping them in Silithus, rather than having them evacuate.

None of it made sense before, but now all the pieces were falling into place. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

He glanced at the other haggard shamans trailing behind and cleared his throat.

“I’m going to scout ahead. Keep moving,” he ordered before shifting into ghost wolf form. Without another word he raced toward the camp.

Spirits help him if he was too late to stop her.

About 4:30AM
2.5 Miles Northwest of the Earthen Ring Settlement


Mercer fell to his knees with grunt and spat a large glob of blood from his mouth. He kept himself propped with his left arm. His right arm was shattered in two places. Likewise, he sported a large bruise around his right eye that was just beginning to swell. His hair was torn in places and matted with blood from the nasty gash along his forehead. Likewise, the white linen shirt he was sporting was torn in places and stained in dirt and blood. A trio of parallel lacerations stretched from his left shoulder to his right thigh. His back marred by even more marks.

With a pained groan, he lurched forward and attempted to stand, but fell back on his scared knees. He groaned as he touched his bruised lips and then looked up at the tall figure masked behind the glow of the small bluish moon.

“You heard me. That last dress you brought from Gilneas City looked like something a harlot would wear,” he spat, before firing off a defiant bloodstained grin.

“You said I looked lovely in it,” the female figure retorted.

“I was thinking of the dancer at my stag party. She wore the same thing. But at least she was working it. Now if… oooof!”

Mercer felt his mind explode and the world spin before crashing head first into the rough sand. He winced, as he tried to stand, but suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and lift him high. Before he could protest, he was thrown back into the ground. His face burned from the abrasion of the sand. It wouldn’t take long for more bleeding to begin anew.

He heard her padding over and raised his good arm. “I fold!”

Anessa stopped and leaned her snout closer to his human-form head. Her teeth glinted in the azure moonlight. “I look like a harlot?”

“Well, just with that dress. I mean, I like that look for you,” he stuttered and then cried out when she reached forward and started sinking her claws into his shoulder. “Whoa! Whoa! I think my disguise is convincing enough!”

With a snort, she gently released him. He sank to his knees again and panted.

“You really thought I looked like some one silver whore from the City?” she grilled menacingly

“What?! No. Light, No! You know that, my love! I just said that to motivate you. Do you remember?”

The worgen cocked her head slightly and then nodded. However, her eyes were still narrow with suspicion.

They had decided that Mercer would have the best chance of openly wandering into the Earth Ring settlement. No one had seen him. Once spotted, he would pose as someone who had been ambushed in the desert and seek help.

For the plan to work, he had to appear like he was attacked. His injuries had to look realistic. But Anessa had proven reluctant to harm him and Mercer couldn’t do it himself. Instead, he had resorted to telling her a few things he’d kept quiet about it.

Anessa’s anger was always so predictable. It hadn’t taken long for her half-hearted strikes to become painfully powerful. Unfortunately, getting her to calm down as another matter altogether. Usually, that meant deflecting the anger on something… or someone, else.

“Do you remember? This is Azgard’s fault. We kill the blue bitch in charge and Seya has to bite her tongue about you,” he reminded.

“I can’t believe we’re taking orders from some greenskin,” Anessa growled. She took a few deep steps and stepped back. Her eyes traced over his battered body. “Oh.”

“You did good, dear. You were, most enthusiastic, about ensuring that my injuries looked genuine,” Mercer nodded as he struggled against the pain to rise back to his feet. “You know the plan?”

“There are some short crags just to the east of the settlement. I’ll wait there and watch. After they take you to the draenei, and you kill her, I’ll rush in to help your escape.” She repeated the plan quickly. Then a trace of doubt appeared in her eyes. “What if they kill you on sight?”

“They won’t. They wouldn’t harm an unarmed person. Not if what Seya said about this draenei is true. I’ll be right among the sheep and they won’t know it until it’s too late.”

“It’ll be a sight to see. I can’t wait,” she replied eagerly. Then her eyes darkened and she approached until she was towering over him. “And when this is over, you and I will have a long discussion about the way I looked in that dress. ”

Mercer chuckled uncomfortably, gave her a quick kiss on her wolf-like nose, and began limping toward the light of a distant campfire that marked the location of settlement. Anessa waited until he had trudged about halfway there before falling on all fours and racing off to her position to wait. Mercer would make the remaining mile and when this is over, they’d return triumphantly to the Twilight coven.

And afterwards, she hadn’t told her husband yet, but she was going to challenge Seya for leadership.

For now, though, she couldn’t wait to lick the blue blood from his snout.

Zelg
Gadgetzan

Another fight night in the town meant only two things to Zelg, big crowds and big business for the inn and anyone else who could offer food and a cot; neither of which he could possibly offer from his workshop. He had also learned early on not to bet on any of the cage matches, giving him no real reason to go and watch. Instead, Zelg was busying himself by working on a number of different weapon sketches and material order forms, something that was very common for him.

The shop he ran was an old, slightly elongated building that he was renting from the Steamwheedle Cartel, with about the front fifth being devoted to the commercial aspect of his business. A counter, two display racks, and his private office which doubled as a bedroom, minus any form of a bed. Mostly, the small room was crammed full of rolled up, folded up, and even some crumpled up parchments in about three dozen separate piles. One, which Zelg had laid out on his desk along with about ten different sketching tools, had what looked like a rifle sketched along with quite a few numbers all over the drawing.

If I keep the barrel length at 48 inches, I can use a less a powerful round and keep the range... Slowly, the goblin's pencil drifted over the design in the center, hovering just over a small group of numbers. He could hear the feint rumble of the shop's generator in the machine room, something that had become comforting for Zelg. The light above his head flickered as the machine stuttered and then resumed its pace.

But a more powerful round with a longer barrel means absolute destruction of anything it touches... A small grin crept across his face as Zelg fantasized about shooting something with such a caliber. His pencil and his eyes drifted to the corner where what looked like a bullet had been drawn. A slug .75 inches in diameter, case 7 inches long, and enough power to take down a mammoth. Zelg then looked over to another parchment with a grid of numbers titled "Expenses", and his grin disappeared.

And all of this means more metal, which means more weight for the rifle and ammo. And, it's more metal that I don't have, nor can I afford right now. With a sigh, Zelg put his pencil behind his ear and rolled up the schematic, placing it inside a wooden barrel full of rolled up paper.

"Just another brilliant design let down by my less than brilliant business returns." With a sigh, the goblin leaned back in his chair and began pondering about what to do. Not many people bought weapons from him, and even those who did only came by so often for ammunition. And each time that happened, there would always be a prolonged argument about the prices leaving both him and the customer fuming.

His only option to start turning a profit again was contract work with whoever was hiring. Fortunately, Zelg had taught himself early how to shoot well at a distance with almost any weapon for a start, and quickly picked up with explosives and close range fire arms. Though, at close range, it was quite hard to miss with any weapon no matter one's experience.

A loud rumble from the goblin's stomach brought his mind to a halt, and even caused him to chuckle. Might as well eat something and get more fuel for the generator, and in the process maybe find a job, even. After grabbing a small coin bag, Zelg left his shop and began walking to the inn.

While he did not enjoy watching the fights, getting to the inn required going past the central cage and the crowds gathered around it. He couldn't see through the crowds, but it was always a safe bet to guess that whenever they began cheering louder someone had taken a nasty hit.

No matter how much time passed, the Gadgetzan Inn never really changed, and even the patrons rarely changed not matter how many were killed or left town; the group always looked similar. Walking past the innkeeper with a quick wave, Zelg continued on to the bar and took a seat at the nearest vacant spot.

"What'll it be, Ironbore?" The bar tender spoke as if already knowing what Zelg wanted.

"Bottle of the usual, with a small quail and two rotten eggs," the goblin spoke as he laid down a small sum of coins, followed by almost the rest in his small coin bag. "And a case o' the strongest and cheapest, as always."

"An engineer's diet, eh?" The bartender added with a chuckle as he set down a small glass and bottle labled "Cider". "I still don't get how you of all people go through so much liquor in a month, Zelg. You don't strike me as the drinking type." A brief look of annoyance crossed Zelg's face, before pouring himself a glass of cider.

"I've already told you countless times; I don't drink it, I use to power a generator for my shop."

"I thought those things used oils, not booze."

"I modified it to run on alcohol because it isn't exactly easy to get those oils all the way out here, nor is it remotely in budget for me even if I had a reliable supply." Zelg quickly gulped down his glass, and then immediately poured himself another. "Any new openings to know about?"

((There's the initial for Zelg, and I'll get Alarde in once I figure out exactly how))

Lurena, Mattaka and Yevana


Gadgetzan, Tanaris
The next morning


The sound of the window being lifted faintly echoed in the small inn room as Lurena slipped in. Perching precariously on the sill, she looked into the room before stepping in and closing the window behind her. Her right hand was tightly closed as she turned towards the sleeping form of Yevana. The side of her face was illuminated only by the gentle light from outside as she knelt towards the young troll where she slept. Carefully, she unfolded her hand, revealing the totems that the teenage troll had lost to the dwarves, and placed them into Yevana’s bag.

Still expecting Mattaka to still be asleep, Lurena gazed down at Yevana for a moment, lost in her thoughts as she tightened the young troll’s bag.

Mattaka had dozed lightly in his tiger form, eyes snapping open every time creaks sounded too close to the door for his comfort. He would always prefer the open forest or desert or mountains to the stuffed, crowded, dirty places civilization afforded.

He still didn’t completely trust Lurena. She seemed like too successful a mercenary to take interest in Earthen Ring matters. Generally, her type stayed far away from organizations that could implicate them to any sort of authority.

The pre-dawn glow began to fill the room, dying everything an eerie light blue. The streets, for once, were quiet. He tensed as he heard noises on the outside of the building, under their window. A moment later, it opened, and he wasn’t surprised to see Lurena slipping inside. His eyes followed her as she moved over to Yevana, and he gathered his muscles underneath him like a spring, ready to pounce on her if she tried anything. To his surprise, she placed Yevana’s missing totems into the young troll’s bag.

His muscles unbunched as he relaxed. She didn’t seem to know he was awake. The apparent gesture of kindness took him aback. Was it possible he was wrong about her?

He sat up, shifting back into troll form as he did, so that he was kneeling. He lightly cleared his throat.

“Thank you for…sharing your room,” he said quietly, so as not to wake Yevanna.

Snapping her head towards Mattaka, Lurena’s expression was mixed with guilt and surprise at being caught. She quickly drew her hands away from Yevana’s bag and stood up, backing away quietly to maintain distance between her and the two guests.

Realizing that the troll druid had said something to her, Lurena blinked as his words echoed in her mind and she briefly shook her head as they came to her. “Ah,” she said at last, her amber eyes traveling away from Mattaka so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “It’s no big deal, mon,” she whispered at last. The rogue was slightly on edge after her night’s adventure. She didn’t expect anyone to be awake when she returned.

“Joo Darkspear too?” Lurena finally asked, trying to break the silence and take the conversation away from anything that had to do with her retrieval of Yevana’s totems. Out of habit, Lurena grasped her spearhead necklace. It was a family emblem, a small stone spear head wrapped in leather twine.

It was obvious to Mattaka he had caught the other troll at an uncomfortable moment. But at least he hadn’t pounced on her. As she looked away from him, his own eyes traveled to the floor a little guiltily as he scratched his head under his untidy mohawk.

He was a little surprised at the apparent casual turn of conversation, but indulged her. “Ah, yeah…but I haven’t been back in…a while. I’ve been livin’ in Nighthaven for…well, it seems like half my life.” He gave a very quiet chuckle. “What about you?”

“Dat explains ja funny speech,” Lurena muttered with a dark smile. She leaned against the wall and casually pulled out her dagger and wiped the blood off the blade on the side of her leather pants. “Ya, I be Darkspear. Been back with dem for a while now. I was lost for a few years, but I found my way home.” She didn’t elaborate any more, as she became engrossed with making her reflection as clear as possible on the blade of her dagger while she cleaned it.

“Joo must have to work with da elfies den if joo be a druid,” she remarked after sheathing her dagger. This time she looked right at Mattaka, her expression less friendly. “Ja like it?”

Mattaka smirked at the accent comment. It was something other Darkspear usually commented on. At first he had taken it personally, not even realizing his speech had changed from being in Nighthaven so long, but now he thought it sort of funny.

Of course when she mentioned being lost, he was curious and a little suspicious, but didn’t press it. It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t expect her to. He didn’t miss the way her face changed when she asked him about Elves.

He shrugged. “The arch druids are more or less indifferent to the couple of trolls runnin’ around. The ones that are my level generally ignore me. They used to say stuff to my face when I got there, but…I guess you could say I won a few sparrin’ matches.” He lazily indicated a tusk. “Nightsabers are all well and good, but in tiger form, I have teeth for gougin’.” He shrugged again, looking out the window. “Most of my friends are tauren, anyway.”

Lurena smirked at Mattaka. “Good. Tauren be good folks. Dem elfies can’t be trusted.”

A strand of purple fell over the rogue’s eye and she absentmindedly pushed it back. Once more silence settled into the room, save for Yevana’s deep breaths. Finally, Lurena decided to speak once more.

“So what I be expectin’ when we get to Silithus? Is dis a flat out war?” She folded her arms now as she focused on Mattaka. “And how did joo get involved? Was it because of Yevana?”

Mattaka rubbed a thumb over one eyebrow. “Yeah…I sort of saved her, when she was attacked by Twilights and fed to Silithids. I listened to her story, and decided to help. As for what to expect…” he shrugged again. He knew from Yevana’s tale it was bad. But he really had no idea how bad. “I’m not sure. All I know is things have got to be pretty awful for them to send someone as young as her on her own for help. I’m sure it’s what the Circle would want me to do, anyway.” At the very least, he was hoping to impress upon the Elders back at Nighthaven that he was a competent druid on his own. That he had helped save people. That he was smarter and stronger than they gave him credit for.

“Seems dat trolly has a bad habit of needin’ to be rescued a lot,” Lurena commented wryly. Glancing over at Mattaka, Lurena did a quick sizing up before raising her chin. “Joo tink dat joo can handle whatevah trouble might be goin’ on? ‘Cause…joo don’t seem to have seen much, have joo?”

She was trying to push him, and for good reason. If she was going to be traveling with this druid, she wanted to make sure she could count on him to have her back. Too many times in the past she had been betrayed or taken advantage of, or simply left behind. It had gotten to the point where she just preferred to be alone despite the fact that she enjoyed having company. Taking risks and overcoming the odds was something she was now accustomed to due to her being unable to trust anyone to accompany her.

Of course, she wasn’t always alone. She had a few close friends. The people she came to Gadgetzan with, though, they weren’t her real friends. They were merely a group she loosely affiliated herself with whenever she grew tired of her travels and wanted to spend a coin. Her true closest friend was a gnoll she had saved from a slaver, but she had to sadly leave him behind when she agreed to travel to Gadgetzan. The gnoll was more childlike though, but he was loyal. She missed him.

Giving Mattaka a cruel smirk, Lurena raised her eyebrows at him then. “Well?”

Mattaka bristled at her comment. He knew she was trying to get a rise out of him, touching on his own insecurities, but he couldn’t help it. “I’ve seen enough. Don’t worry. I can handle myself in battle.” He shifted, raising an eyebrow back at her. “How do I know you won’t turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble? This whole thing seems a little high-stakes for people like you.”

Even though he had seen her replace Yevana’s totems, and she had gone out of her way to help them, her comment had rubbed him the wrong way. He wanted to return the favor.

A small, amused laugh bubbled out of Lurena at Mattaka’s accusation. She raised one hand and partially covered her mouth as she continued to giggle. “People like me, eh mon? Dat’s precious.”

She continued to snicker as she pushed off the wall and walked past Yevana’s sleeping form and where Mattaka knelt. The rogue only stopped at her traveling pack that lay on a dresser near entrance to the room.

“I guess den dat we shall see,” she commented at last, glancing over her shoulder at Mattaka. Her expression became more neutral as she hid her emotions.

Equipping her traveling pack, Lurena freed her braids from the straps and tossed them over her shoulders. “I’ll be outside, mon. I’ll have some food sent in for joo two. Let me know when joo be ready to go.”

With that, Lurena yanked the door open and stepped outside, closing the door as quietly she could behind her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but his response bothered her when she knew she had been asking for it. She guessed that maybe she still wasn’t used to being lumped in the same category as the other ruthless rogues and thieves that many have had encountered, even after all these years. It was still hard for her to admit that she wasn’t always happy with her own decisions.

Mattaka exhaled slowly, rubbing his fingers over his temples. Lurena’s sudden departure had left him with an uncomfortable feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t really wanted her to leave. It was possible he had been too quick to judge. After all, he had been the victim of such rushes to judgment himself.

But damn it, the woman made him angry.

He shifted back into his tiger form until the food arrived. When it did, there was a soft knock on the door. He got up and moved over to open it, taking the offered tray and bringing it inside the room.

He poked Yevana gently. “Wake up, food’s here. And then we gotta go.”

Yevana opened her eyes immediately upon Mattaka's first nudging. Only a few minutes earlier she had woken to the sound of unfamiliar low voices in the room, but pretended to remain asleep.

The first thing she had heard was Mattaka reassuring Lurena that he could handle himself in battle. But, to her shock, he then openly pondered whether Lurena would be flee from battle herself. Hadn't she told Mattaka about how Lurena saved her from the angry dwarves? Why was he saying those things to her? He was calling her a coward!

It took all of Yevana's effort to continue charade of sleeping as she heard Lurena respond. Resentment was clear in the tone of troll's voice as she excused herself from the room.

She hated seeing adults fighting like this. Enemies, she could understand. But not between the folks who were supposed to be helping each other. She had heard enough between Azgard and Niashado.

The teenager sat upright on the sleeping mat and stared at the meal. The scent of freshly cooked bacon and fresh bread made her mouth water. Scooping up a sizable portion, she began woofing down the meal. Even the juice had been brought in a chilled glass pitcher.

But the food, delicious as it was, didn't suppress the unease she felt about the tension between Mattaka and Lurena. She understood that they both lived very different lives, but that couldn't be allowed to create a divide between them.

Swallowing down a glass full of juice, Yevana cleared her throat and turned to the troll druid.

"Mattaka," Yevana began. Her voice was quiet and a little shaky at first. "If dey all not be dead already, my friends be needin dis help. Any help. I know joo not like the way Lurena does dings, but dey may need her. And dey may need joo. Dey need an army but I be returnin wit only two, mon."

She started to raise a piece of bread to her mouth, but then lowered it. Her hazel eyes bore into the druid; not in anger, but rather in pleading.

"Dey killed my father and a bunch of us, and da only ones who have answered our calls are joo and Lurena. Please, don be chasing her off."
Mattaka sighed heavily under the gaze from Yevana. She was absolutely right. Who was he to refuse help on the young troll’s behalf? If anything, now he felt even worse for the way he had treated them both. It was clear Yevana had been awake for at least part of the conversation.

“You’re…you’re right, of course. I’m sorry.” He took one of the pieces of bread Yevana hadn’t stuffed in her mouth and chewed it hesitantly. If he had been someone else, he might have slapped himself. Here he was talking upholding druid ideals, and was ready to refuse help for some desperate shamans in an instant based on assumptions.

He stood up, taking the last piece of bacon as he did so. “You know, you’re gonna be a great shaman one day,” he winked at her, then turned to leave the room.

Yevana abruptly stood up and grabbed his arm to keep from leaving. She knew instantly that what she had said had stung him more then she had intended. The young troll shaman cursed her clumsy choice of words. Stonehoof and Azgard always seemed to know what to say. Even that nervous draenei in charge seemed to always know what to say to others.

She gazed intently at Mattaka.

"And joo, Mattaka, will be a great druid. Joo be selfless and caring, but fierce and honorable. I am still alive because of joo. Lurena comes to aid my fellow shamans because joo saved me," the young shaman explained. She offered the druid a shy smile and squeeze his arm between her fingers. "My da would be proud to have had joo at his side. I am sure of it."

The teenager's eyes suddenly brightened as she turned from Mattaka and began collecting as much of the food as she could. She started to cram the food into her bag, but froze when something caught her. With trembling hands, she lifted a string of totems from her bag.

They were her father's. She thought they were gone during the ill-gated game with the dwarves.

Lurena. That was the only explanation she could think of. For the first time since her father's death Yevana began feeling like things are looking better; at least somewhat. She looked back at Mattaka and beamed a broad toothy grin.

"Let's be going!" she called out, rushing out for the door.

* * *

The teenager raced through the hallway and in one leap, bound up the four steps that led into the tavern portion of the inn. Despite the crowds in the room, her eyes were riveted on the newly reacquired totems. She could feel the spirit of the elements returning, although because of her inexperience, she couldn't discern much from them.

But that didn't matter. Yevana felt like she was a shaman again. She felt like a small part of her father was back.

To make things better, now that she had delivered her message in Camp Mojache, it won't take long for the Earthen Ring to send aid. And she was bringing two more skillful trolls with her back to the settlement. Mattaka, humble as he was, will surely be an excellent force to be reckoned with should those Twilights return. And Lurena was a fearless fighter.

Grinning, Yevana pushed through the crowds as she tried to make her way to the exit. The sooner they were in the air, the sooner they'll arrive. She could hardly wait to show Azgard and Niashado that she had been successful.

A tauren abruptly stood up and without looking, took a step back. He accidentally collided with her and sent the young troll sprawling across the floor, only to fall hard against an occupied barstool. The impact shook the countertop and caused a bottle and the contents plate with some vile smelling eggs to splatter all over the seated bald headed goblin.

Her smile evaporated almost instantly as she stared at the dark green skinned goblin. His stained yellow shirt now sported a larger, considerably smellier stain. Whatever the sticky straw colored liquid was in the bottle now dripped from his head and the complicated goggles over his forehead.

"Oh damn," she quietly gulped. Like a gazelle staring dumbly at a fast approaching proto drake, all Yevana could do was stand there and stare at the victim of this mess.

Earthen Ring Settlement


"Who der?" a voice called out.

Gasping, Mercer looked up and blinked back the stinging sweat and blood that was caking the side of his face. His vision was blurring, but with night slowly giving way to the glow of the predawn sun, he could see the tall figure approaching.

"Water," the human mumbled through parched lips. His 'wounded' disguise was far more realistic then he had anticipated. His legs were sore and the numerous cuts and bruises were starting to haunt his every step. In addition, his broken right arm was starting to swell and the likewise snapped ribs were generating stabbing sharp pains throughout his body. His parched busted lips felt about as swollen as his arm.

At first, he'd been acting when he began his trek toward the settlement. But now that it was only a few yards away, he was really feeling the pain and thirst. His vision began spinning and he lowered his head back on the grainy ground.

"Wat-ter," he rasped again. The troll had approached and despite the lack of clarity in his vision, he could see the mace being held in his three-fingered hand. But the troll's posture was wrong. Clearly, he wasn't a warrior. Had he been unhurt, Mercer knew he could have shifted and taken out the shaman's jugular with one swipe of his claws.

But Anessa had been too thorough in making him look wounded. Hell, he was more than wounded. Without healing, he'll be nearly worthless.

Let this be a lesson for you. Don't bring up that dress of hers again, he mentally chided himself. Then, despite the situation, he chuckled. The thought of how easily he'd been able to provoke his wife was just too funny.

Of course, the stabbing pain from the broken ribs brought him swiftly back to reality. At this point, the troll, sporting wild green hair was within weapon's reach of him. Behind him, someone of small stature was running up to join him.

"What did ya find, tuskhead," the newcomer, with an unmistakable dwarven accent, called out. The tone in which he called out to the troll indicated that the name had been given in good nature. Despite their race, these two were friends.

"Water," Mercer called out before falling down at the troll's bare feet.

"Human. Not sure who he is, but he be messed up," the troll shaman explained. The two conversed back and forth while Mercer lay on the ground, wheezing.

Just take me to someone to be healed you idiots, he screamed in his mind. As if they were clairvoyant, they finally decided to carry him back to the camp. The troll began to lift him up, but froze when an uncontrolled cry of pain escaped Mercer's lips.

"He really be messed up," the troll ammended as he more carefully hoisted the human up. "I take him to the tent."

"I'll bring Aeri to tend to him. She's the best healer we have left. Hurry up! That dust storm is getting closer," the dwarf called out.

The troll said something unintelligible as he began walking. His strides were careful and measured as to avoid adding to Mercer's misery. Despite that, however, Mercer soon found himself passing out.

He woke up when he felt the cool water dripping into his parched lips. It was such a welcome sensation. He tried to sit up and take the water bowl, but the troll's hand pressed against his battered chest and pushed him back down on the bed.

"Joo stay put until da boss says otherwise, human," the troll responded. "Healer be coming. Boss lady busy. What happened?"

"Ambush. Dark robes," Mercer managed to say. The water alone was doing wonders for bringing him back to alertness. Through his half-lidded eyes he picked up on the pulsing glow of a totem. That would at least explain the slight relief from the pain.

"Dark robes. Dey be Twilights, mon?" the troll asked. There was an undeniable sense of hostility in his voice.

"I-I don't know," he muttered. He let his head fall back on the pillow. The skins he was laying on was at least soft. Still, he was too injured to enact on his plan. As soon as the healer tended to him, he'd give them another reason to fear the Twilights.


~~~~


Unlike the first funeral pyre in which the entire settlement had attended, this time only three stood watched as the bodies of their brothers and sisters were consumed by flame. Everyone else was busy trying to secure what was left of the settlement for the incoming dust storm and whatever else the Twilights might hurl their way.

Niashado sighed as she watched tongues of flame consume the bodies. The wood to fuel this fire was taken from pieces of the other tents that had been destroyed in the Twilight's latest attack.

She kept rehearsing the scenarios that had brought them to this point. The shamaness kept hoping that she had a made a mistake or something that she could at least learn from and hopefully avoid in the future.

But, nothing came to mind. It seemed that the Twilights had come simply because they could. Whatever this animosity was between Seya and Azgard, there was nothing Niashado could have done to avoid this.

And that bothered her all the more. She was powerless to protect these people. Even if Azgard had been here, there would probably have been deaths.

She glanced at the pair of shamans standing next to her and sighed. Farseer Stonehoof would have undoubtedly had empowering words of encouragement for this occasion. She could offer them nothing.

Her ears twitched at the sound of someone approaching. The wind carried a feint scent of ale.

"Niashado," one of the dwarves, Elementist Stonecutter, called out as he approached. "We found a human at the perimeter. He was hurt something fierce. I already led Aeri to him for healing, but you should probably speak to him when you can."

The draenei nodded solemnly. A human out here alone? This is unexpected.

"I will be there to see him shortly, Stonecutter. Thank you for letting me know," she responded, before turning back to the pyre. The sky was turning a brighter.

What will the new day bring?

A pair of golden eyes pierced through a purple haze, peering in all directions, offering sights unseen to whomever can focus their mind on its invisible irises. All eyes averted their focus from demons, from scourge, from the nether, to an eruption of mana akin to the destruction of the Sunwell itself, briefly twisting ley lines to that one location. Most of the mages were alerted by the explosion, yet most were baffled, save a couple bureaucrat, a magistrix and 'her pet'.

While the pencil pushers were busy pushing away with enchanted quills that worked all on their own, the elves prepared to close the case. The corrupted elf, a self proclaimed 'Lady' Elmana Solwind, grinned what might be described as an evil grin, it certainly wasn't friendly. She reclined at a couch, one of those lavish blood elven things, covered in three different kinds of translucent silks with upwards of ten different shape and color combinations. With a verdant flame, the mage lit something beside her resting place, it looked like a capped vase with a bit of metal off to the side and tubes of either hide or rubber hanging off to the side. She took the end of the hookah and took a drag at the golden tip, exhaling the thistle smoke what looked like a crudely drawn heart, somewhere between the organ and the shape. "Ahh." She sighed. Elmana shifted about on the bed, running her arms along the furniture's "Mm." She moaned, dragging the robe past her shoulders, showing him a little tattoo of the sun, loosening the belt, pulling the robe's breast wider apart until she was sure Indiriel could see bare tanned flesh, barely censored by long red hair, or he at least glanced at it. She lifted a knee, pulling the bottom of the robe taught against her thigh and one half of her hips. "Did you see that?" She shouted, the ladylike appearance shattered, her eyes wide, childlike, her lips curving up the sides of her face, before returning to her somewhat provocative position with that same, stupid, childish face.

He hated it. He didn't mind the harrassment, he inwardly enjoyed it actually, he didn't mind working with her, it wasn't bad, but she wouldn't stay like that. It was as if she knew she could piss him off with the sudden change of mood. Though he remained stoic, his eye twitched ever so slightly in anger, and even then she didn't see it for very long, as he put a helmet atop his head, she still spoke. "Gotcha." She whispered, taking another breath of the toxic herb, her eyes closing to an elven slant, masking those demonic orbs and lips relaxing to a thin smile. "I liked how they finished." She rasped, her throat dry from inhaling smoke. "With force and distance, even managed to splash against the night sky. How I would've loved to've been there." The knight already had a layer of chain on, as well as a sword and scabbard within arm's reach. The majority of the plate was in a trunk in the office and required a bit of fishing through papers his overseer thought would be best to not put in a cabinet...And alphabetizing them, she hadn't any rhyme or reason to how the files were placed.

Elmana leaned over the side of her chair and just glared at him, those hellish eyes, narrowing even more than usual to send him a message. He managed to see the look through the corner of an eye, turned his head to speak, but decided against it. He donned the armor of a Spell Breaker, equipped with a shield like flames, a fluid, two sided blade, enchanted with winds to return it to its owner, with veins of flames and lightning to somehow make it even more shatterproof and armor fashioned from thorium, mithril and the waters of the Sunwell itself. "Put 'em back Mr. Knight." She commanded in Thallasian, somehow managing to make that sound dignified. "Now the desk jockeys won't have to organize your crap." He responded, his vain was actually far less arrogant than your average elf's, it was even a little gruff, it sounded sort of human, as if he were losing his accent, having been 'loaned' to Dalaran for so long.

"Send me to the Silithus." He demanded.

"Nope." Elmana quickly responded. The blood elf nestled her head back into her arms, taking a breath of caustic air. The magistrix turned her head with a cozy, almost sleepy looking smile. "Need to wait on the g-men to finish their paper work. Plus!" She began, her head lifted from the crimson sofa. "I need to get in the right mood to send you to far flung reaches of Azeroth with most all of it's energy depleted. Naturally it wouldn't be hard, but you've got that 'Wrar!'" She pantomimed lynx claws, scratching at something in the air. "'I'm a big spell breaker.'" Elmana twisted her body, swinging her arms, as if he were a bear or something, "And I'm naturally immune to magic!' Or at least resistant, I'm such a badass I can over power your aura, lucky you, I'm on your side."

"Oh yes, I'd be so afraid to face you, especially since you'd definitely be willing to get out of that chair." His voice lacked the sarcasm he meant, Indiriel wasn't very good at it in either language.

"Uh-huh." Elmana nipped at the end of the hookah before drawing the fire from her device, "We could review or something in the meantime. Gimme the file labeled 'New mysteries of An'Quiraj.'"

"I'm in full platemail, you do it." He said, begrudgingly kneeling aside his trunk. "Didn't it have a case number instead a name?"

He already knew what her response was going to be, 'Lazy, you do it.' or something involving a loose fitting robe swaying if she moved too quickly. But she did answer her second question "Well, you lost track of the shipments."

"On your shift, in a sand storm." He responded before he could take any more of the blame

"On my shift, and we saw they were heading south westish with the shipments. They could've been doing elementalist things in the far west, but it sounded far more devious if they were doing things involving dead old gods, as that's their current 'n ultimate modus."

A shiny, magical, floating quill, decided to rear it's ugly head on the other side of Elmana's couch, along with a roll of parchment. She flicked her wrist and had the quill and paper fill itself out. They were technically in the clear to teleport him, as long as he didn't kill anyone, or arrest anyone, they were free to have him teleported out way south."I've got blood thistle, I'm good to go, make sure your bag is packed with water, snacks, a bed roll and a change of clothes. Grab the sword you usually wear too." She raised her eye brows in question of him, and how he wasn't carrying a sack of anything. Indiriel stepped over papers and dodged random, floating, arcane objects, moving towards the corner of the office. His bag was packed, necessities were neatly folded, and tucked away in a bag with a few expanded dimensions that didn't appear on the outside. He nodded and stepped away from all of the papers, so nothing of value was lost.

"M-kay." Elmana, began fishing for certain reagents in her pocket, found a rune of teleportation, bags of arcane powder, a pipe, magical essenses, and finally a rune of portals. "Alright, I'm gonna land you somewhere between Cenarion Hold and an ER camp that's been watching the Twilights for the whole 'destroying Azeroth' bit, and they're probably afraid of the remains of a being existing outside of space and time." With even the strongest of urges surpressed and her body relaxed, her mind sharper than Deathwing's spine and the entirety of the mana of the floating city at her disposal Elmana managed to twist and warp reality about her spell breaker, breaking apart his shield piece by piece, bit by bit, moving his armor away from him. With his aura gone, the rune of teleportation appeared beneath his feet, lines of magics burned, carved into the ground. Images of his destination seared into his mind, crawling caverns, slime covered, hive minded beasts, storms, bones of great wyrms, roaming insects, worms, ruins of temples, of towns, of great cities, a citadel of scarabs. Finally with the feeling that air had been ripped from his lungs and his thoughts purged from his mind, Indiriel landed on a cobblestone path with the squawk of birds speaking elven tongues and lions roaring orcish.

The spell breaker staggered to his feet, his first response was to take out gold and demand to be taken to the Earthen Ring camp, probably not the best idea, seeing as the silence to kill takes another few hours to come through. The elf paid, received change and the bird took off, taking him over craters of insects, past ruins he didn't care for, and over what looked to be a large camp, at least it did at some point. The hippogriff circled around a couple times before descending, it was almost macabre, for a while he felt like a bird of prey. He was suspended over the dying, with the smell of burning flesh filling the air, the bird distracted by or hungry for the scent of death. The bird wanted to land him somewhere in the middle of the gathering of the dead, attracted to the pyres, but instead Indiriel pulled away, tugging at the reins to drop him off somewhere on the outskirts of the ruined tent city. No sooner did he retrieve his bag then did the loaned mount return home, it didn't seem to like the dead. Not a good omen. There was obviously a funeral going on, he did have a mission, but it was apparent that that could wait for the souls to return to earth, or whatever it is shamans cared to do.

The knight walked to the very edge of the camp, Indiriel took a knee, clasping his hands he whispered a prayer. The prayer was either Elvish or a human translation, replacing the light and related terms with something about the sun. He rose, shaking sand from the break in armor at his knee, clearing hair from his eye with the back of his gauntlet, he searched for anyone that appeared to be in charge, assuming they weren't dead. And actually, he couldn't tell the difference between remfs, healers, warriors or leaders.

Zelg
“So, a couple of opportunities in Un Goro, one on a ship to Booty Bay, and… what was the last one?” Having been up most the night designing and tinkering, Zelg’s head felt foggy and his memory was slipping a little.

“Silithus. It’s a fresh opening from what I hear; the Earthen Ring needs a few hired guns.” The foul taste of the goblin’s dish had more or less been suppressed as Zelg continued to talk business, and by the surprisingly delicious quail.

“Earthen Ring? Bah! They would be unable to comprehend the genius of my inventions! I’d rather work with the undead than those nature enthusiasts.” Zelg finished smugly before taking a few sips of cider.

“Which inventions would those be? The grenades that blow the hands off of their users, or the pistols that backfire and break the no-“

“You shut up!” The dark skinned goblin interrupted in an angry tone. You have two mishaps in your shop while testing, and all of the sudden the stories get exaggerated and no one trusts the rest of what you make.

“Easy, killer, you don’t want to create a scene do you?” As Zelg poured himself another glass, he failed to notice the young troll practically sprinting through until she collided with his seat. The entire contents of both bottle and glass were emptied onto his head followed by his remaining eggs landing on his already stained shirt.

Zelg sat still for a few seconds before slowly setting the now empty glass and bottle back on the bar. The bartender had begun smirking, and apart from the tow patrons right next to Zelg, there was no stop to the hustle and bustle of the inn; until Zelg actually reacted.

“All right, who’s the wise guy?!” Spinning around in his seat, the goblin hopped down and began searching for whoever had just caused him to spill his meal. Those patrons who did stop to see who was yelling, seemed to look past him. Eventually following their gazes, the goblin turned around to see a young troll sitting against the once occupied barstool.

“You! What the fel is wrong with you?!” The rotten yolks on his shirt felt sticky, and the cider that had been spilled on his head now dripped from his crooked nose and goggles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alarde
Somewhere in Northern Silithus

It felt as though time was standing still; as if each day was the same as the previous and would remain so indefinitely. Every day felt this way since Alarde had been turned into an abomination of the Scourge. From a soldier taking part in special and secret operations, to a wandering mercenary wanted for treason… and now a death knight, recently freed from the iron grip of Arthas.

The Lich King was no more, and it was still odd not having an omnipotent leader giving orders to him. Yet Alarde refused to rejoin the Alliance, for a couple of reasons. Chief among which was the number of times Stormwind had betrayed him during his service. So much pain and loss, and when he tried to fight back, SI:7 turned him into a criminal.

Foul humans… I will see this world burn before I side with them or their allies ever again.

Second was a more morbid reason; all the people he had killed while under the control of the Scourge. So many lives tortured and snuffed out. The elf believed that a chance to redeem himself was far out of reach. “Sometimes people don’t deserve second chances…” I don’t think anyone could forgive me for my crimes... if I ever wanted to atone.

He now had what felt like an eternity to think about past actions, both during life and undeath. Alarde had only ever been in Silithus a small handful of times during life, and the only recurring memory about it was how unpleasant of a place it was; desert, ancient ruins, enormous insects, and a giant, forbidden temple to the south. But now, the death knight did not care for the perils that would have once made him think twice. In fact, the wasteland almost seemed attractive, what with the minimal number of things that would try to really harm him.

As Alarde had not tried to re-ally himself with anyone from his life, or go to the Ebon Blade to seek asylum, the elf had taken measures to avoid contact with anyone, including not walking on the main paths of anywhere he went. Silithus was no exception, and his undead atrocity of a mount had no complaints.

A few flies had been flying around the elf for some time, probably because he smelled like a corpse that had been left out in the sun. And if he could actually feel temperature, he could only imagine that what was left of his armor was conducting lots of heat, despite his helmet and one shoulder guard missing, the other badly fractured, and the rest of his plate showing severe signs of wear.

Seya Stealclaw

Somewhere in Northern Silithus

He appeared exactly as she had seen in her vision. His features and stature were clearly night elf, but the dreadstead he rode upon and his armor announced his true existence. A death knight.

They were the Lich King’s greatest creation. Death Knights were cold, methodical and at one point, utterly obedient to his every whim. The latter has changed with the fall of the Scourge king. Many who had broken from the Lich’s control early had formed the Ebon Blade and pledged themselves to work with the living to defeat the Scourge.

But every now and then, if you get lucky, you get to find one like this pathetic creature.

Seya’s lips spread into a smirk as she watched the death knight slowly approach the outcropping where she was concealed. His armor, which once sparked fear, was in need of repair. His flesh was little better. And his eyes… those cold glowing blue orbs screamed of a tortured soul trapped in a body that just won’t die.

If Seya could, she would have felt pity for him. She was above such emotions, though. Instead, the orcess smoothed her tunic and dark leather skirt she wore, stepped out from the outcropping and into his path, effectively stopping his startled stead. A large dark hood concealed her head and most of her face, but strands of her course black hair could be seen spilling out over her shoulders.

“Why, look at this. A puppet without strings; what a truly sad sight.” the orc called out. Her voice carried her confident smile.

Seya began to walk a circuit around the death knight. Her eyes wandered over his form as she appraised him. When she returned to her initial spot, she stared directly into his eyes.

“I have an offer, death knight. Listen to me, consider it, but consider it carefully, for I offer this only once,” the orc began, speaking confidently despite being unarmed before such an entity. “You desire purpose. That is the reason for creation. Purpose validates your existence and permits your deeds. Without it, you shoulder a burden that you were never meant to bear.

“Your old life is filled with people who now either fear you, or spit on you. You can never go back. Nor can you make amends for the deeds you have done. You are unforgivable, my dear death knight. ‘This’ world rejects your very existence.”

As if to punctuate her last sentence, a strong gust blew sand around them. The horizon darkened as a wall of dust slowly rose in the far distance.

“Work for me. Be my right arm and together, we will purge the old Azeroth and bring a new world into existence. Guilt, regrets and all the slights that have unjustly been cast upon you will be meaningless in our new Azeroth. Serve me well and you will be rewarded with that which you so dearly desire: purpose.”

She turned her back to him and looked out at the distant cloud of roiling dust and heat lightening. Her skirt and cloak flapped in the increasing wind. Her hood was blown back, revealing the orc’s scarred face.

“A storm is coming, death knight. Don’t you desire to be the force, instead of the victim?”


~~~~~~~~
Yevana

Gadgetzan, Tanaris


“All right, who’s the wise guy?!” the goblin bellowed far louder than Yevana would have imagined such a diminutive creature capable of. His eyes narrowed once he saw her. “You! What the fel is wrong with you?!”

“A-accident,” she stuttered meekly. “I not see joo. Not dat joo size makes it hard to see, but. Damn, not what I meant. See, der this thing I am rushing to and den…”

Yevana slapped her palm to her face and growled in frustration. What was she supposed to do about this mess? His clothing, which honestly, looked like it was already plenty stained, was dripping in foul smelling eggs. He’s a goblin, though. Don’t they like foul smelling things?

Wait? What was that tiny creature even doing acting all haughty? She was taller than him. Probably the best could do is throw a wrench at her. If worse came to worse, she could always just throw a lightning bolt at him.

How would Lurena handle this? That’s simple. Lurena just wouldn’t give a damn. She’d be confident and strong. Everyone fears her.

Standing up straight to accentuate her height over him, she looked down and sneered.

“I don’t be having time for dis or for joo,” she said in the best ‘Lurena’ accent she could muster. “Get outta my way, Shorty. I need to be leaving fast.”


~~~~~~~~
Niashado

Earthen Ring Settlement

The appearance of the circling hippogryph was enough to alarm the shamans. Gathering their weapons, they watched with trepidation as the creature landed in the outskirts. By the time the passenger had dismounted, several were already approaching and preparing to flank the newcomer with weapons drawn.

As Niashado approached, also clasping her staff tightly, she noted the newcomer’s appearance. He appeared to be a blood elf, although he was rather tall compared to others she had seen. His armor, which appeared extraordinarily ornate, signified someone of a high rank. But she couldn’t determine who he represented.

Surely the Earthen Ring wouldn’t send one lone blood elf to aid them.

Quite unexpectedly, he fell to a knee near the funeral pyre and spoke something. It sounded like a prayer, but the shamaness couldn’t figure out the language. After saying his words, he stood up and began scanning around, as if to look for who’s in charge. The shaman’s lack of uniforms probably confused him.

Despite the armor the blood elf wore, he wasn’t holding a weapon. Nor had he done anything more hostile than startling them with his arrival. For those reasons, Niashado decided that maybe he wasn’t working with the Twilights.

“We should finish preparing for the storm,” she said to the other shamans. They pulled their weapons away returned to their tasks, albeit some appeared to be uncomfortable with the blood elf’s presence. The draenei then turned to a nearby dwarf. “Tell Aeri that I will be there shortly. And keep an eye on our injured guest, please.”

The dwarf responded with a nod and took off, leaving her with the blood elf.

“My name is Niashado. What brings you here?” the shamaness asked politely.

Purple, while not nearly black or nearly as dark, the spell breaker still stood out like a sore thumb, Indiriel's armor glinted against the rays of the morning sun and glistened with dancing funeral fires, furthermore his weapons were far from ordinary, they glowed and were even shinier than his armor due to better care and magics that coursed through their gems and runic veins.

Though the thought of purples truly hadn't entered his mind, at the moment he had one bother, the shambles this group was in or regiment, or whatever shamans called a number of themselves. Sure in Dalaran, they had a choking bureaucracy, but this wouldn't stand. There would be portals and shacks, shamans can do at generate portals with remnants of elementals, there are a numbers of them to the west. Hell shamans can even wrought stone! And their leader, she wasn't adorned, she hardly seemed powerful, nor did she appear to be in control. At least she was able to tell the difference between your average hippogriff and the one the druids loaned him, that does manage to put her one step above the rest of her fellows.

After a moment of scrutinizing their camp, he began "I am of Dalaran." He plainly stated, at least to clear up suspicions of his allegiance. "I And the magistrix I have been placed under have been investigating the trafficking of instable mama crystals. We lost track of the smugglers in Silithid tunnels, then we saw they fumbled. A mana bomb was released in the south, my concern isn't about renegade elementals or elder gods, it's about collecting remaining reagents and capturing or killing twilight agents hiding in the ruins of the lost city."

He would admit his purpose plainly, without a hidden agenda, first off he is a knight, and second he learned that lies often bite you in the ass, regardless of how thick his armor and strong an aegis he generated, karma was sharper. "I apologize for being direct, and truthfully, I was given authorization to pursue and capture, but not to kill. I am waiting on a messenger to tell me I've been given a 'license to kill', because I seriously doubt they will lay down their arms at the sight of a single elf. Given that I'm unable to do my job, I'm obligated to assist you as we seem to have a common goal." Indiriel pulled his shield from sockets in his shoulder and breast plate, bearing the sheet of metal on his arm and his arm on his breast he showed the shaman the illuminated eye shining in the center of his shield. "I Indiriel Dawnlance, spell breaker of The Violet Citadel, am yours to command."

He placed the shield near the sockets, each hole illuminated with a a pale blue light, and like a magical magnet, each prong was pulled into place. "Now Niashado, you are to tell me your camp's story, why are there so many pyres blazing, why are you pre-" the question lead to a well timed cough, interrupting an additional, insulting question that should be answered by the explanation of the deaths of her comrades, which should explain a third internal question, 'What the hell happened to your camp?'

The dwarf found Aerilyia at the side of a tauren man who had taken a bit too much smoke. His hacks and coughs had mellowed out, and, while he wasn't smiling, he was a great deal calmer than he had been earlier. The draenei had her hand resting on his chest, her other hand wrapped around her staff. The crystals dangling from the crook of her staff tinkled in the soft breeze that surrounded her. Blue and green were lit up, and soft, green swirls of energy surrounded her hand where it touched his skin.

“Deep breath in for me, Onan... deep breath out,” she murmured softly. His every outward breath expelled a small puff of soot. When she had started, they had been dark clouds. Now they were barely visible. Loud, running footsteps caught her attention as she continued working, and she lifted her head towards the source. It wasn't as though the blind draenei needed to have her eyes on her work. With all the wind moving about, she had no problem detecting the shape of a dwarf, and a familiar face. Her lips spread in a warm smile.

“Elementalist Stonecutter. I...” Her smile faltered. There was a wealth of audible clues one gave to their expression. A note of laughter in a voice. A nervously-tapping hand. An anxiously-bitten lip. The dwarf was worried. “Lead the way, friend. Onan is about as well as my talents can make him. Rest is what he needs.” This last line was directed to the tauren, and she turned her head to him as she reached into a pouch. She withdrew a small packet and opened it, licking a finger and dabbing it into the fine powder before tasting it, then nodded in satisfaction and handed it to the tauren. “If there's any pain, pour this in some water or tea and drink.”

Aeri stood, leaning lightly on her staff, and allowed Elementalist Stonecutter to take her hand. A small smile tugged at her lips. Even without the use of her eyes, she almost always had a good idea of where she was in relation to the world. But she always allowed people to guide her. The touch of a hand on her's was a small thing, perhaps, but infinitely precious. Touch was how she connected to the world. The ability to discern the world's shape with wind was invaluable, but the person nearby was never completely real to her until she could touch them.

“What happened? Who is my patient?” she asked.

“No' one o' ours, lass. 'uman man, beaten somethin' fierce. 'e said 'e was jumped by some 'uns in dark robes. We're thinkin' Twilights,” he explained as he led her across the camp.

“I don't wish to be overly suspicious, but he -is- being kept separate from everyone, right?” she asked, hating herself for it. “These are suspicious times, after all,” she added sadly.

“ 'Course lass,” the dwarf grunted, then stopped and released her hand. “ 'ere we be.”

Aeri nodded to the troll keeping watch before settling on her knees beside the pallet. “Hello, sir. My name is Aerilyia, but I've been told that it's a bit of a mouthful. Aeri is just fine,” she assured him. The blue crystal hanging from her staff came to life with a warm, flickering glow, like a candle, washing the area in calming warmth and the pleasant sound of distant waves crashing on a beach.

“May I touch you?” she asked, a formality that she adhered to for all patients. The draenei delighted in touch, but many people were very stiff about who was and wasn't allowed to touch them. Out of respect, she made sure that she had permission whenever it was possible to gain it. “No one here means you any harm. We only want to help.”

A loud commotion from the other side of camp caught her attention and she lifted her head towards it before returning her attention to the injured man. Whatever it was, the others were well able to handle it.

(Look, it's a star! )

Zelg
At first, it looked as though the young troll was about to fully apologize, rather than stutter out parts of one. This would have been fine for Zelg as he hadn’t intended to sound angry or really do anything, but due to lack of sleep and embarrassment, his mouth moved without his brain really telling it to. He was even considering letting her remarks about his height slip, but the situation suddenly deteriorated.

“I don’t be having time for dis or for joo,”she had stood up and was now looking down at Zelg… deliberately. He knew the tactic well, as many had tried to use it against him; if you’re bigger, you win.

Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how big someone was as a bullet to the right place can bring anyone down. “Get outta my way, Shorty. I need to be leaving fast.”

It was almost surprising to the goblin that he felt his temper begin to break loose at the word “shorty”. Normally he would just let it go, knowing that chances were he was much more intelligent than anyone who resorted to such insults.

But she had reminded him of one who had gotten to him; a troll oddly enough, one who was keen to try and get more than what he deserved and by any means needed. Haggling and complaining, and when that didn’t work, the troll tried to intimidate him by towering over the goblin. Zelg remembered there being much arrogance in his eyes, right up until the goblin’s pistol ended the “disagreement”.

“SHORTY?! Why, you little-!” In a near instinctive motion, Zelg’s hand went straight to his hip, but only to find his own garments and nothing more. The bruisers did not like him carrying his weapons around town, and to keep them happy he had left his at his shop as always.

He felt foolish, but his eyes never left the troll as his hand slowly lowered, trembling with both anger and embarrassment. After a couple of deep breaths Zelg felt himself calm a little bit, though he still was not happy with the troll’s actions. Perhaps I can just stomp on her foot; that would certainly… not help the situation.

Removing his goggles from his head, the goblin began to wipe them clean with a relatively clean portion of his shirt.

“Egh… never mind. You are not worth my time or my ammunition.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alarde

Being confronted by an orc in the middle of no-where was certainly one of the last things Alarde considered possible. However, she did seem to have a way with words, even if he still desired revenge more than purpose.

“Work for me. Be my right arm and together, we will purge the old Azeroth and bring a new world into existence. Guilt, regrets and all the slights that have unjustly been cast upon you will be meaningless in our new Azeroth. Serve me well and you will be rewarded with that which you so dearly desire: purpose.”

Purge Azeroth… perfect. A chance to exterminate the vermin that cause so much misery.

“A storm is coming, death knight. Don’t you desire to be the force, instead of the victim?” There was a light pause as Alarde seemed to think things over. He would now have a chance to exact his revenge completely and be able to cause more death and destruction.

“Leave me in charge of Stormwind’s fate, and you have a deal.”

Seya Stealclaw

Somewhere in Northern Silithus

“Leave me in charge of Stormwind’s fate, and you have a deal,” This was the first and only thing the deathknight had spoken.

Inwardly, Seya groaned. Why is everyone so provincial? She had struggled to find the best lieutenants possible to carry out her plans, but the scope of their skills only extended to whatever personal gain they can receive, or in many cases, whatever vice could be sated.

For Xan, it was his lust. She sincerely doubted that there was a single female cultist left in their camp that he hadn’t bedded, save for her, and he wasn’t moronic enough as to pursue her. Furthermore, it wasn’t beyond the realm of belief for Seya to suspect that each of those females believed themselves to be the ‘special’ one in his life.

And words failed to describe her distaste for the Petigrews hunger in dealing pain to others as much as with themselves. As far as Seya was concerned, they were dogs long before the curse took them.

Wikers Book, the goblin who micro-managed the camp and her project, was probably the most trustworthy of her minions, but still, he was a slave to a clockwork mentality. Efficiency was his vice and he liked everything to follow his painstaking planning.

Rayatay, the other goblin, was an inventor and an engineer with a diabolical mindset that she appreciated, but his mind only extended as far as the potential carnage his inventions can administer.

And then there was Dakota Stonehoof. The truth was, Seya didn’t trust him. He didn’t seem to have any vice that he was slave to. He calmly and efficiently executed all her orders. He only questioned her when he felt he had a more logical idea and he only did so in privacy. And the tauren never grumbled when she dismissed his alternate ideas.

In short, the former shaman farseer was the perfect lieutenant, and because of this, Seya was highly distrustful of him. After all, it wasn’t long ago that she was once someone’s perfect little lieutenant.

In fact, it was at this point that Seya realized that perhaps these proclivities among her lieutenants were a good thing. It made them easier to control. It made them predictable.

This was why, despite her disappointment, her interest only grew once Alarde stated his terms. Even with the world soon to be purified by His glorious flames, the deathknight was still consumed by a thirst for vengeance.

“I have to honest with you, deathknight,” Seya began. She didn’t bother to face the deathknight. Instead, she concentrated on the fast moving dust clouds in the distance. “I cannot give you Stormwind. My master has plans for the wretches who reside there. I can promise you, however, that if you serve me as well as you did the Lich King, you will see his wrath poured upon Stormwind.”

She put her hand into a satchel and withdrew a thin crystal rod. Turning, she looked at him over her shoulder and grinned smugly.

“I know what you tried to do for the Lich King at the Titan site in Northrend. And I know of the individuals who stopped you. Would it surprise you to learn that one you thought you had killed is here, in Silithus. She stands against me and my master’s will,” the orcess explained, as she returned the rod to the satchel. “What say you?”



~~~~
Mercer Petigrew

Earthen Ring Settlement

“May I touch you?” At the sound of the soft voice, Mercer opened his eyes and felt himself tense at the being kneeling before his sleeping mat. Her skin and hair were white, almost to the point of being iridescent. He noted the horns, which were something he was still having difficulty in seeing in a creature who’s face otherwise looked so pretty.

Her eyes were closed and by the way she moved and her mannerisms, he could tell she was blind. It wasn’t a recent event, though. She was too comfortable for someone just blinded.

Seya hadn’t mentioned anything about their target being blind. Not that Mercer minded. It would be fun to hear her beautiful voice scream when they tore her to pieces. Heck, he was already scheming up a game he and his wife could play with this draenei. One where they’d tell the helpless blind female what part of her body they’d break, but instead go after something else. He wondered how long it would take for to mentally break her.

Mercer pushed the thought out of his mind, though. They had to make sure they found the right person and he could feel his body on the verge of shifting to his worgen form. He calmed himself and nodded, before realizing that she couldn’t see.

“Forgive me. I’ve never seen one of your kind so close,” he lied. He was still in pain, though, but he also felt sure that when Anessa finally struck, he’d have her back. She should be coming at any moment.

He tried to sit up but gasped as the broken ribs stabbed painfully at his lungs. “I-I need to speak to your leader,” he said between gasps. “It’s about the T-Twilights.”



~~~~
Niashado

Earthen Ring Settlement

Niashado brushed several strands of her windblown blue-gray hair from her face as she studied the blood elf in the short silence that followed her introduction. Something in the way he observed their camp, and her fellow shamans, set her ill at ease. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the word ‘disappointment’ came to mind. She suspected that there was also some ‘contempt’ in his countenance, but she chose to ignore the possible ramifications of that.

"I am of Dalaran,” he began. “I and the magistrix I have been placed under have been investigating the trafficking of unstable mana crystals. We lost track of the smugglers in Silithid tunnels, then we saw they fumbled. A mana bomb was detonated to the south. My concern isn't about renegade elementals or elder gods. It's about collecting the remaining reagents and capturing or killing twilight agents hiding in the ruins of the lost city."

A few things in what he said set off some alarms in Niashado’s mind. The first was that rather than share his name, as she had, he chose to identify himself simply by where he was from. Dalaran, being by far, the center of arcane studies in Azeroth, led her to suspect that he believed his station to be more important than the duties of her shamans.

Secondly, his comment about ‘elder gods’ and ’renegade elementals’ made her realize just how little he knew of their operations here. Not that she was surprised. The Earthen Ring and Violet Citadel had little interaction. It wasn’t uncommon for someone in Dalaran to request (or demand in their usual self-congratulatory and excessively wordy missives) information from the Earthen Ring. Seldom were such missives from the Earthen Ring reciprocated.

Thirdly, and most alarming, was that he mentioned the ruins. They had all seen the brilliant purple glow in the distant horizon. They feared for the wellbeing of their fellow shamans, but with the storm coming and their camp in shambles, they had to prioritize. But Azgard, Tahirus and many of their warrior shamans had gone to investigate whatever it was the Twilights were doing. And now, this blood elf wants to as well.

"I apologize for being direct, and truthfully, I was given authorization to pursue and capture, but not to kill,” the blood elf pressed on. “I am waiting on a messenger to tell me I've been given a 'license to kill,’ because I seriously doubt they will lay down their arms at the sight of a single elf. Given that I'm unable to do my job, I'm obligated to assist you as we seem to have a common goal."

The blood elf pulled his shield from the back of his armor and showed her the familiar seal engraved on the face. "I Indiriel Dawnlance, spell breaker of The Violet Citadel, am yours to command."

The draenei cocked her head slightly. After all that, now he presents himself with his name. There seemed little doubt that he was from Dalaran. But their goals were not as similar as he would like to believe. As far as Niashado was concerned, she only wanted her people to be left alone so they could finish their studies of this area. They needed help, but with the high concentration of arcane interference from the bomb, even at such a distance, portals and other magical forms of communication were impossible. Even their sentry totems were having problems.

More importantly, the ‘permission to kill’ concept worried her. If he went on to the ruins, would he kill all he encountered there, or spare her fellow shamans? She couldn’t take that chance. The less this Dalaran spell breaker knew of their involvement in the ruins, the better. At least for now.

A brief gust of wind blew through the camp, pelting them windblown sand and causing the shamans trying to erect a second tent to call out as they struggled to keep it from collapsing completely. The gust died down, but didn’t abate. The sky was growing darker.

"Now Niashado, you are to tell me your camp's story, why are there so many pyres blazing, why are you pre-" he began requesting before being interrupted by a fit of coughs.

Niashado felt her ears lower and her ire rise at the tone of his ‘request.’ It was just like an official from Dalaran to demand explanations. She wondered how much information he’d be willing to provide in return; if he is anything like Tahirus, probably not much at all.

“We have suffered several unproved attacks by a nearby Twilight camp,” the shaman began. Despite the tone of his request, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least give him an abridged version of what had happened. However, she also had other duties to attend, namely that of looking into the guest that Aeri was tending to. “There have been many casualties and without wyverns and mounts, we are cut off from Cenarion Hold and our other Earthen Ring Outposts.”

She reached down, picked up a mallet and handed it to the blood elf.

“There is a sandstorm approaching. We need shelter. If your desire to assist us is in earnest, than help us raise and secure that tent. Once it is raised, you may shelter there with us and I will tell you more.”



~~~~
Yevana

Gadgetzan, Tanaris

Yevana’s eyes grew wider when the goblin instinctually reached for a weapon on his belt… if there had been a weapon on his belt. But since there wasn’t, she let out a breath of relief while the goblin sheepishly returned to his seat.

“Egh… never mind. You are not worth my time or my ammunition,” the goblin grumbled as he cleaned his goggles with his mucked up shirt.

Ammunition? Yevana mulled thoughtfully once the fear of the situation seemed to die down.

“How much ammunition joo got, gobby?” the young troll asked. Then, a mischievous grin spread over her lips. She casually tapped her finger against one of her small tusks and then approached the goblin. “Cause, if joo gots lots of bullets, I might know of some folks who be hiring help.”

She wasn’t sure how much, if any, they could pay the goblin, but that could be decided once they saved her fellow shamans. She glanced at the other patrons of the tavern, most of whom weren’t paying any more attention to them now that the threat of a fight was gone. Then she leaned it close. “Dey could use da help, but if joo not good enough with bullets, den stay in dis ruttin town.”

Aerilyia

Aeri winced at the man's gasp and placed her hands on his shoulders, laying him back down. She rested her hand on his chest, sending a searching probe through him, like a quick chill through his body, and winced again at the extent of the beating he had taken.

“Stay still, sir. They -really- worked you over, didn't they?” she asked gently, concern in her voice. It would require more than herbs and bandages to heal the hurts he had taken. She moved her hands over his body, straightening bones with gentle, competent hands. Her power could mend them, but they would be mended as they were. Having a rib healed so that it jabbed into one's lungs with every movement wouldn't be much better than leaving it broken.

“You've never seen one of my kind? I seldom hear that anymore. We've been here for... six years now? Longer? You'll have to forgive me, I have trouble keeping track of units of time below decades.” She laughed softly as her fingertips traced over a long, deep cut in his stomach, then looked pensive. “Ah, but you are one of the Gilneans, aren't you? All of the accents of this world, I didn't recognize it at first.”

Her hands stilled at his last request. A shock of foreboding went through her. Farseeing was not a gift that she manifested often, or reliably. She couldn't see what would happen, for obvious reasons. All she got was a sense of impending doom, of fear. She had been wrong before, but...

Aeri turned her head up to the troll that had been sitting by the man first, lightly biting her lip, then turned back to the human man. Had there not been enough fear and distrust? Enough pain? It was in her power to remove the pain of another living creature. She would not deny him that.

“It sounds like Niashado is busy across camp. But anything you have to say, you can tell to Elementalist Stonecutter here, or myself. We can relay it to her,” she assured him, placing her hands gently back on his chest. “This will be very cold, and very wet.”

Water was Aerilyia's element. It flowed and moved as it was guided. It did not fight its path. It gave life. Everything depended on the presence of water. When asked right, Water could heal any wound. She made her request in draenic.

“Spirit of water, comfort this man. Take his pain and wash it away. Mend his wounds, make him whole,” she murmured in the comforting, flowing syllables of her native language. Water answered with a loud splash, flowing over the man's body. Bones mended, flesh knitted back together. Bruises faded from violent, angry purple to dull yellow, then to nothingness.

A moment later, the power faded from her and she slumped, her long pigtails falling over her shoulders to frame her face. Creation and healing was always harder than destruction. Harder, but, to her, far more gratifying. And as a fighter and healer who depended entirely upon the elements, the lingering sense of wrongness that still lay over the land from the huge mana bomb explosion some ways away made bigger requests more difficult, and more draining.

“How do you feel?” she asked after a moment that she spent recovering.



Emilysse Manaleaf

Emilysse Manaleaf walked beside the shamans and Kalesh, her hand resting on top of the saber's head, scratching behind his ears. Despite the long distance that they had walked, she showed little sign of discomfort. And her headache faded a little more with every mile they walked.

“Thank Elune's glorious, perky tits for that,” she muttered, scratching Kalesh's ears. The saber grunted in agreement, then gave a sulky groan as he nudged his head against her hand and gestured to the shamans on his back.

“We're doing a good deed, fuzzyface. We do those once in a while. Besides, did you see the chest on that troll? Or the arms on that tauren? That draenei wasn't bad either. Not much for muscles, but he looked... flexible. And you know, it's a shame that Green is so old. He's got that whole... primal, grumpy thing going on.”

Kalesh sneezed as she rambled on, interrupting her train of thought, and she shot him a dirty look. “Remember when you wouldn't shut up about that housecat in Theramore?” she reminded him, then rolled her eyes as Kalesh's gaze went distant and he gave a content growl.

“You're a jerk, Kalesh. At least I never fantasized about a man or woman that I would kill by having sex with,” she snapped at the cat, then looked around at the rest of the group. They seemed very... depressed. Not at all like they'd just won a battle. She tilted her head to the side and tugged on her long, dark green braid, watching as Puppy-Green ran ahead. She sped up and came to walk beside Tahirus.

“So all hail the conquering heroes, hmm, Blue? Not that you'd know by looking at you all. Look more like you're headed to a funeral.” She tugged again on her braid and looked up at the much taller draenei. “What's the deal?”


(( I am a heart and a head! ))

Zelg
“How much ammunition joo got, gobby?” the young troll asked after Zelg had retaken his seat. Placing his goggles back on his forehead, the goblin checked to see if the cider bottle had anything left before poured the remainder into the glass. You could learn a bit about speakin’ common… “Cause, if joo gots lots of bullets, I might know of some folks who be hiring help.”

Now you’re speaking my language… I think.

“Dey could use da help, but if joo not good enough with bullets, den stay in dis ruttin town.” He could tell the troll had gotten closer by the sound of her voice. She certainly knows how to push one’s buttons… Once again, Zelg quickly spun round on his stool so he was face to face with the troll.

“My dear, I can hit a target at five-hundred yards without any difficulty,” The goblin kept a very serious look on his face as he continued. “And my rifles have the firepower to turn your skull into a fine paste at even greater distances.” Zelg couldn’t help but smirk as he finished, as he was not exaggerating… much.

“Now, if you don’t have any more questions regarding my abilities or my hardware, then I have a couple about your little proposition. What exactly would I be doing? And, of course, how much would I be paid?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alarde

“I have to honest with you, deathknight, I cannot give you Stormwind. My master has plans for the wretches who reside there. I can promise you, however, that if you serve me as well as you did the Lich King, you will see his wrath poured upon Stormwind.” While listening, Alarde took note of the orc's stance, being one that faced away from him. Doubtful it's because of fear... otherwise she'd have never approached me. Or at least without backup.

She then produced a strange crystal rod from a satchel and looked over her shoulder at him. The smug grin that had found its way to her face reminded Alarde all too much of a number of people he had wanted to kill.

“I know what you tried to do for the Lich King at the Titan site in Northrend. And I know of the individuals who stopped you. Would it surprise you to learn that one you thought you had killed is here, in Silithus. She stands against me and my master’s will,” She..? No one should have gotten out of that mountain alive.

“What say you?” This question almost seemed rhetorical to Alarde; he was almost certain that no one had survived the events from inside the mountain. And now he was learning that there had been a survivor? If one had gotten away, then others could have! However... there had been one who persisted and continued to get in his way throughout the entire mission, after he had let her live once.

"There is no way that either of those damn draenei are still alive..." His voice was barely above a whisper, but for once his face showed real emotion. In this case, shock.

"While I am interested as to how you learned of what I did, I'll ask about that later." The elf could see the approaching dust storm, and while it did not bother the deathknight, Alarde could guess that this orc was not intent on being caught out in it. "To answer your question, if this survivor is who I think it is, I will see to her undoing personally. And I will gladly serve you and your master."