World of Warcraft®

((Yeah, I'm late to the party, sorry.))

Faithe had been assigned to the Manus Ignota as an ambassador a month earlier, but she still reported to Gentyl for assignments and just to visit. Tonight she sat in Gentyl's office transcribing more letters.

The white kitten lay sleeping on the hearth in front of the crackling fire. Gentyl closed her eyes, listening to the faint scritching of quill on paper and the occasional pop of a log burning. Her fingers stroked the arm of her chair absently as her mind meandered down paths of her past.

"These are beautiful letters," Faithe said softly, barely breaking the silence.

"Yes, they are. I've lost some of them. I wanted to make sure I don't lose any more. They are too lovely not to keep."

Faithe had finished transcribing some reports about people Gentyl wanted to know more about earlier. Modas had been too quiet lately. She had a report, but it was difficult to glean information about them easily. The Ishnu Por Ah had been easier to gather information on, and that report had been read more than once.

They were quiet also, but Gentyl was still not sure about the trip Faithe wished to make. However, this seemed to be the perfect time if she was going to allow it at all. Whatever was distracting them, was sufficient opportunity and the decision had been made.

"Sepha, I still think—"

"No." Gentyl knew the objection. Faithe was positive she could slip in and out of the Barrens without being noticed. Gentyl was equally positive the Ishnu knew everything that happened there and the recent cessation of attacks was only temporary. "I'm allowing you to go, but this is my decision and you will go under my escort or you won't go."

Faithe sighed. "Have you decided who is to go?"

"Yes, I hired a Lluch fighter named Cyrus. Fallenrose, Moa and Tenwit will also go, but the gnome is there only for an emergency situation. Moa and Fallenrose are excellent and experienced fighters. I would trust them with my life, and I trust them with yours. Cyrus is battle-hardened. You'll be in good hands."

"Do you think it's wise to send so many?"

"Do you think it's wise to take a chance of Rua capturing you again?"

Gentyl heard Faithe's breath catch. The orc warrior had nearly beat her to death the last time he caught her at her orc parents' home. She spent months in Orgrimmar before Gentyl finally found out where the girl was being held.

"No, Sepha," Faithe replied at last. "I have the last letter transcribed. Thank you for allowing me to go."

Gentyl stood up, untangling the sleeping gown that had wrapped around her leg. She went over to Faithe and hugged her. "I ordered the supplies you asked for. It should be enough to get them by for a long time. They'll have the packhorse ready for you when you leave."

Faithe wrapped her arms around her and smiled. "I'm sure they'll be delighted. Mother was nearly blind the last time I saw her and Papa can barely get around now. Were you able to arrange a translator? I've completely forgotten how to speak Orcish."

"One should meet you at Northwatch."

"Thank you."

Gentyl walked back to the desk where a gentle snoring drifted up from the bottom right hand drawer and covered Iecia up. "You'd think her bed would be more comfortable."

After passing on the message to Dustwing, Yotingo hid for a few days. He was AAMS, and had done just as both his superiors and the rest of the Horde had not wanted him to do--get involved in a battle against the Alliance. Nevermind he had only concentrated on healing, not attacking. That was just what that other draenei courier had done, and the ire from that incident had still not blow over.

So, although the Ishnu Por Ah assured him they wouldn't kick up a fuss about his presence (Rulik had even told him he approved!), Yotingo didn't want to take a chance. He sat in a cave situated above Mulgore, plucking wool fuzz from his mohawk, still left over from being polymorphed a few times in the battle. He wondered about the polymorphing. Had they not attacked him because they had recognized him as AAMS? Because he had only been healing? Or perhaps because they had had all they could handle with Kickfeather? Yotingo smiled. Likely the latter.

He froze at the whipping of wings and the clack of hooves and claws landing on the stone outside. The troll cautiously peeked his head out, and relaxed when he saw it was only Dustwing, sliding off of his hippogriff.

"Sir Yotingo," the night elf said, always polite. He bowed.

Yotingo waved off the rest of the greeting, standing up. "Was Ah really dat easy ta find?" he asked worriedly.

Dustwing smiled and pointed up at an eagle soaring far above their heads, keeping watch. "I blame the bird."

"What ya be here for, Kildrad? Did Gentyl give ya a return message?"

"I wish you would stop calling me that," said Dustwing. "And yes. I need a message passed to Lady Redearth. Gentyl wold like to negotiate the release of Faithe. In person, so I'll leave the particulars until then." The night elf eyed Yotingo. "Will she let the AAMS speak for her? Gentyl was stubborn about using their services, but I thought the Ishnu were boycotting you."

Yotingo sighed. "Redearth be letting me do it, at da least. She trusts me. It only be findin' a peep who can be speakin' fo' de Alliance side. Would dat be you?"

Dustwing thought about it, then slowly shook his head. "Only if no one else can be found. I have another contract to fulfill now." The night elf rubbed his beard. "I do know one human who might be of use. Narnicka?"

"If ya recommend him," Yotingo said cautiously. "Ya know how tense everyone be bein'. We can't be affordin' more trouble."

Dustwing frowned momentarily, but then turned it into a smile of reassurance. "Don't worry. He's a very honorable man. If not him, someone else. I'll send all inquiries to you?"

"Not me," said Yotingo. "Redearth. It be her call."

Dustwing nodded. "Elune be with you, then."

"Ya, sure. An' spirits be with ya, Kildy." Yotingo grinned. Dustwing gave him an exasperated look and hopped back onto the hippogriff. The animal charged towards the cliff, dropped off, and swooped into the air. The eagle far above turned its course to parallel that of its master.

Yotingo rubbed his tusk, about to turn to go back into the cave, but then thought better of it. More messages to be delivered, and not in particularly friendly territory. Finally, Yotingo decided he'd break protocol again and not wear his AAMS colors. What Sulfon didn't know couldn't hurt him...

The horses unloaded off the boat and set foot on dry ground. Moadayd stepped to Faithe's side and saddled the packhorse for her and reloaded it. The Draenei towered over her and, as much as she wanted to protest she could do it, she welcomed his help.

"Hold him here and I'll saddle your mare."

With all the horses saddled and everyone ready to go, they were just waiting on one more person. Faithe's mare shook her head impatiently and turned around to bite at her toe. "Cinder, just a few minutes more."

They needed the translator, but as the minutes wore on it was apparent he wasn't coming. "We should wait," Cyrus said.

Professor Six injected something into Cyrus' tail while he gazed into the distance.

"Ouch!" He stomped a hoof and wheeled around on the tiny, pink-haired gnome.

"It's an emergency transporter," six explained. "Your tail is the only place not covered by armor."

Cyrus popped his tail in frustration.

"Your hair is lovely," Tenwit said. "My name is Regent Tenwit of the Tenth Legion. Tell me, do you do it yourself?"

Six's eyes widened. "Of course I do."

"A beautiful young lady such as yourself should have attendants looking after your every need." Tenwit pulled a lemon out of his bag and sliced one in half, then handed it to the gnomess.

"What's this for?" Six stared at the fruit suspiciously.

"Why it's a lemon, of course. I love lemons. They're infinitely refreshing. I especially like them in this dry desert clime. Yes, quite good, I think."

Six rummaged around in her bags, pulled out some powder, and poured it on top of the two lemon halves. The fruit instantly liquefied. She walked over to Faithe and handed her one half.

Faithe looked down. "Thank you, what is it?"

"Lemonade. You looked dry."

Tenwit smiled and nodded then cut another lemon for Six.

Faithe drank the lemonade and wadded up the rind in her hand, then dropped it on the ground. She mounted her horse and tied the packhorse's lead rope to her saddle. "We should go."

Cyrus held up his hand, stopping them.

Fallenrose and Tenwit looked at her for guidance. Professor Six sat on her camel, Toes, and made a few more notes in her journal. She wasn't a fighter, but she was anxious to learn more and had asked to go along.

"It's all right, Cyrus. I want to be on our way before it gets much later. The translator isn't coming."

"Do you remember where you're going?" Moadayd asked.

"Vaguely. The small farm they moved to is by some pools. It's been so long…I don't know."

He smiled softly. "It will come back to you."

"I hope so. I don't think wandering around lost would be a good idea."

"I still don't think we should have brought this many people," Cyrus grumbled.

He had already made his wishes clear earlier when he commanded Fallenrose and Tenwit to leave. She had countermanded his order and insisted they stay or she wasn't setting foot out of the fort. Now she had to put up with his surly attitude, but it was worth it if she got to see her parents. "This is the only way Sepha would let me travel," Faithe replied. "Since I am still under her command, I will follow her orders though I am ambassador to the Manus Ignota."

He muttered something else and kicked his mount into a lope to scout ahead.

The sudden movement spooked Six's camel and it too ran off with the small gnome shrieking at it to stop, which only made it seem to go faster. Moa looked at Faithe and then back at the gnome, uncertain what to do. The camel circled them three times before Six got it under control.

The camel's eyes were wide with fright.

Six's eyes were wider.

"Toes, it's an adventure!" cried Six. "Be brave!"

Faithe looked around the plains and remembered the lion roasts her mother used to cook. Her mouth watered at the memory, but they didn't have time to stop and hunt. "Argh, all that lion meat."

Six looked around. "Hm. Those prairie dogs look quite a lot like guinea pigs. I wonder if their physiology is similar."

Çyrus laughed at Faithe. "Tempting aren't they?"

Six stared at Wolfgaar as he rumbled past. "Wolfgaar's rocket is amazing. Controlled, sustained flight! In a rocket! I'll have to get the schematics."

Faithe nodded. "It is amazing."

Six took out her notebook and made a few more entries.

Fallenrose sighed wistfully. "Wish I could make one."

Faithe looked around the landscape, happy to be home again. "I love this country." She paused for a moment, fear gripping her once again. "The last time I was here an orc warrior caught me."

"Orcs are very big," Six replied.

"You mentioned that before. And yes we-.... they are." Cyrus seemed irritated again.

Faithe frowned. Had she? She didn't remember mentioning it. She was prattling. "Hmm, yes and Rua is one of the biggest and meanest."

"I've heard they eat gnomes," Six exclaimed.

They rode over the hill and stopped suddenly. The pools were in the right place, but there was nothing but smoldering ruins where he home and parents should be. Faithe stared at the destruction and spurred her mare forward. She pulled the horse up in front of the house. "What happened?"

Moadayd looked around the burned ruins.

Faithe dismounted slowly and examined the two skeletons in front of the hut. They were too small to be orc, but who were they?

"What's supposed to be here?" Six asked.

Moadayd looked Faithe and then at Cyrus "I ll take the far side"

Cyrus nodded, searching the horizon for trouble and then returning his gaze to the ruins.

Faithe begins to weep. "My home. My parents."

Six blinked and looked around, understanding dawning on her. "Oh, gosh."

Faithe kneels down and picks up a charred straw doll.

Moadayd points to the sky

Faithe says: these skeletons are too small for orcs.

Fallenrose looked up and frowned. "I count three of them so far. Why are they here?"

"This doesn't look good," Cyrus said.

Six sketched a picture of the nearby orc in her notebook. It was a rather unskilled drawing and could have been just about any orc. "They all look the same, don't they?"

"Think I saw a fourth fly overhead," Fallenrose said.

Faithe looked up, scouring the skies. "Oh, dear. Is there an orc?"

"Make that five," said Fallenrose who shaded her eyes with her hand and studied the area above them.

"That doesn't look good," remarked Six.

Çyrus strode toward the horde who had now landed in front of them. "Moad, keep Faithe close. I have a.... disruptive eye right now." He jabbed a thumb back towards Faithe. "We're escorting a priestess. Back off."

"Another behind us flanking," said Fallenrose.

The black female tauren said something unintelligible and pointed at them.

"Back off," demanded again.

She stepped forward and pointed again, this time directly to Cyrus and rumbled another order. It was clear she wanted them to leave immediately.

"Back up Cyrus," Moadayd said. "Better in numbers."

"Can't back up. They'll get gutsy."

Faithe walked up behind Moadayd. "Do they know what happened to my parents?"

A bull with a black beard stepped up next to the black cow, glaring at them. He spoke to the cow, who seemed to be the leader at length, while the rest of the party spread out.

Six leans over and whispered to Tenwit, "what's going on?"

Tenwit frowned in concentration, studying the situation. "I'm not precisely sure, fair damsel."

"Faithe, look for clue about what happened here, while we keep them distracted," said Cyrus.

Faithe hurried back to the ruins and started digging through the rubble, searching for clues

Six hurried over to help her. "Is this where your parents lived, miss?"

"Yes, I grew up here," Faithe answered ans she continued to sift for anything that might lead her to an answer.

Tenwit stood near Six and clapped his monocle to his eye, studying the rapidly disintegrating scene.

"I'm warning you," Cyrus said. Faithe looked up just in time to see the ground around him turn red and the black cow hurtle toward him in a death grip.

"Kil mog Ro'th," the orc shouted.

Faithe ran toward the fight and was felled by a bolt of magic. Six whimpered as knelt to check Faithe.

"I don't like her color!" Tenwit exclaimed.

Six dashed about frantically waving her arms and then knelt again to check Faithe. "What do I do?!"

"I shall save you, fair damsel!" Tenwit declared and shielded Six with magic. The orc yelled again. Faithe recognized the word through the haze firmly settled in her brain.

Flee.

Faithe regained her senses and ran from the orc, or so she thought. She stumbled blindly about and fell near some rocks. When she looked up, the orc was standing in front of her. "Oh, gods," she moaned. "Don't let it be Rua."

In the distance she saw Six racing away with Tenwit at her side, seemingly guarding her or trying to stop her. Faithe shook her head and looked up at the orc again. He shook his head slightly. She glanced around for Cinder, but the mare and the packhorse were gone.

The horde were still arguing behind her. "If I had any clue as toy what you were saying, I'm sure I wouldn't like it," said Fallenrose.

The orc dragged her to her feet and turned her around to face them.

"They have her," yelled Moadayd.

"Rose," Cyrus said. "Get us out of here before they hurt her. There's too many."

The bull with the beard motioned for Rose to go.

Moadayd tried to take a step toward her, but Cyrus pulled him back. "C'mon Moad."

Faithe watched the portal flicker to life and the escort stumbled through. She wondered if they would even arrive alive. Rose continued to hold her hand out, forcing the portal open until the last one was through and then collapsed onto the ruins of Faithe's home.

The troll trotted up leading Faithe's mare and the scouting party surrounded her. The orc smiled at her and nodded. He seemed to be claiming possession, but the black tauren was arguing with him. Faithe wondered if this was her opening and kicked the mare in the ribs as hard as she could. Cinder reared and bolted forward, but the bull reached out and grabbed the reins, pulling the mare back around.

The bull shook his head at her and took the reins. They traveled cross country at a brisk pace with scouts frequently galloping ahead and then circling off to the side. They were an experienced war party and Faithe quickly lost hope anyone would get to them in time to rescue her. She was closely flanked on either side and at least two riders rode so near Cinder she kicked back at one of them.

It seemed like an eternity before she had been telling the gnome about the animal life here and how her father used to bring her to watch the centaurs. They fascinated the old orc and he happily sat on a hilltop overlooking their village, watching and pointing things out to Faithe about one or the other of them. He knew them all. He knew their families and their pedigrees. He recited past battles and stories of prowess. And so she had spent many a quiet day, a tiny human girl with a mountainous orc teaching her the culture of creatures most considered monsters. They talked and ate lunches Mama had packed.

Mama protested when he took Faithe hunting with him, but he insisted she needed to know how to hunt and track prey. As far back as she could remember; Papa had always taken her with him if he was going to be away from the house. When he made a kill, he showed her the workings of the body. A shot here will kill instantly. A shot there would ruin the meat. He showed her how the muscles overlaid each other and attached to the bones. She studied the bodies and marveled at the way everything worked together.

That was her first introduction to life and death. It was the reason she wanted to be a healer. It was one of the reasons she was good at what she did. She studied things patiently, like the mesmerized child sitting on a hill watching centaurs for hours.

Faithe had learned early how to read animals and people. Once the initial shock had worn off, she stopped crying and started watching. While alert for any movement, they rode easy as if they'd spent many hours in the saddle. They were part of the land and she had a feeling they were much more comfortable here than in a city.

They would probably keep her somewhere remote.

They stopped at a small camp at last and the bull helped her down from her horse. She hoped they would untie her hands, but no one made a move to release her.

The black female tauren who seemed to be the leader pointed at a tent nearby and waited until Faithe entered before summoning some spellslingers to her side. The shaman bound Faithe with totems that reached up from the earth and racked her body with pulses of magic. Then another spoke some words and vines poked through the packed ground and wound around her ankles. Satisfied she was sufficiently bound, the female nodded to the bull who untied Faithe and wound the plaited leather rope up. He put the coil in his bags while another tauren went through Faithe's bags, taking out the hearthstone, some small weapons and the herbs and potions. The female jumped when Snowflake popped her head out of the bag and scratched at her.

The others laughed at her and chided her for being attacked by a kitten. The kitten hopped down and bounded over to Faithe. She curled up in Faithe's lap and watched with wide blue eyes. The bull sat down beside her and pulled out a rabbit.

reserved

reserved

Arapache sat in the Lodge of the Ishnu Por Ah. As he sat his mind drifted back to the evening previous, the reports of an alliance patrol, his report to Kickfeather, the search, finding, and confrontation with the patrol. How shouting had turned to blows and as suddenly as it began it ended. The girl that was being protected was captured, and the rest fell back. The ride to Mulgor. The girl set in the guardhouse by The Gate. The translator, messages, questions passed back and forth. Soon messages would be coming for talks with Redearth. Maybe raids on Mulgor itself by her friends. The caravan, so vital for those in Camp Una'fe would be leaving soon. Was it in danger? Arapache sat, and let the thoughts come. Better to let the thoughts wash over him. He would ask for guidance from the ancestors later, but now he sat, and thought.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching her. Sitting there in the tent staring at the bandages, the wounds his daughter received. A feeling rushed over him he had not felt in years. Looking at her battered body laying still and silent on the cot next to him, he felt what a parent would feel if they came close to losing a child.

It was something he was not prepared for. For so long he had despised her for what she had done to the family, to her mother, his wife. For a long time he could not even bare to look at her face without being reminded of that night. Maybe it was the time that passed and in that time, wounds do heal. For now, he did not see a person he despised or hated. He saw his daughter again.

Wulfgrin, ever the guardian, told him what happened the night before as it was told to him before she passed out. He had thought long and hard about what he heard. Agreeing to help escort one she had never met before, putting her own body and blood at risk to protect her. For what?

So many times he had asked that question. Why? Why does she continue to do such things when this is the end result? He tried to show her this and she continued to ignore him. Nothing can be gained from this.

He held her hand and whispered silently into her ear.

“I will make this right.”

Kissing her on the forehead, he exited the tent.

Looking to his right he gave Wulfgrin a sad stare. He was her only loyal agent that remained at her side. Somehow, even with knowing what happened to the others, he stayed with her.

He gave the Dwarf a slow nod and moved on. Regaining his focus, he called for a messenger.

“Take this and see to it that those on the list are notified of our call.” He said handing a note to the messenger.

Opening the note, the messenger looked up. “Y-you want all of them active?” He said in a shaken voice.

Looking directly at Wulfgrin as he spoke. “By order of the Grenwall family, they are All to be activated.”

Quickly bowing, the messenger left.

Marico stood alone facing south from Honors Stand.

“I will make this right.”

“Off crows! Fie! Not yet, not yet. Off with ya! Black-hyded devils.”

The orc lay on the open ground of the Barrens, a league south of Honor’s Hold. A spectacular wound opened his breast, his neck apparently broken, but life remained in the greenskin. Tenwit kneeled by his side.

“Upon my word you are torn nave to chap, sir! And there’s nothing clean about this work, a ragged job. This is the hand of rage here. Someone wanted you to suffer, my friend. Now ease yourself while I look you over. Mother’s Light but you are unmade, would you believe that I am, as we talk, studying your guts. Which calls to mind something I learned among the trolls, did you know that the troll shaman believe fortune can be told in the guts of men? ‘Tis true, they are known to kidnap human girls for the purpose; apparently their entrails prove more true for soothsaying. I can’t deny some truth in the superstition, for I’m certain I could tell your fortune now.

Now, while you were very unfortunate to take this road at this particular hour, you are blessed that I, by mere chance of course, happened upon you. For I’m a student of anatomy, among many other disciplines, and I have taken great interest in orcs in particular. It has ever perplexed our academies how such small hearts and minds can carry such a magnificent frame. Of course you know as an orc your thinking parts are very small; and this prodigious head of yours is ten parts skull to one part brain, give or take. But this might surprise you: the orc heart is also diminutive, smaller in fact than the heart of a gnome! Remarkable, no? I remember, when we practiced upon the orc corpses, it would fit perfectly in my little hand. You don’t believe me, do you? Don’t try to talk, sir. I commend you already, any man or elf would surely be crossing the Black River by now.

Tenwit takes a long drink from his waterskin, spilling it freely over his beard.

“Fresh and cool from the stream, my Lord. On a day like this, I almost prefer it to wine.”

He stops the skin. The orc utters something.

“Oh, I can’t heal you sir. Not this (gesturing to the wound). You are quite undone. Any use of my talents upon you would serve as a waste of Mother’s gift. I can’t promise to dig you a hole either. I’m not provisioned for the task, especially beneath this sun. And I’d be cheating the crows. Who am I to cheat a crow? I’ve always been troubled by how maligned the creatures are. Our wrath becomes their gluttony, says my old Liege Lord. But I call the crow wise, what better provender than the wrath of men and orcs? A horn of plenty if there ever was. They are a ravenous lot though, unmannered, no table-sense. I daresay they’ll start on you as soon as I’m off, dead or alive. Just pretend it’s one of your orc wenches nibbling on your toes."

The orc tries to speak again. Tenwit leans in, “Say it again, sir. I‘m here for you.”

“******* gnome.”

“There, I have it that time. And I forgive you. Being the son of two linguists I know a little of your tongue. ******* gnome, you say. It’s forgivable. Apologies anyway, prolixity is my second name, and I’m sure you’d like to get down to the matter that brings me to your side. Now, I regarded your wolf as he ran away; a strong pedigree, bred for speed. And you seem an able orc, travelling with few burdens, carrying good steel, no marks whatsoever to betray your errand—a mark in itself of course. Are you not a courier, sir? Only speak if I err, sir, save your strength. Yes, of course you are. And this, tucked beneath your leg, a letters case is it not? I am sure your benefactor instructed you to destroy this if you were attacked, but it happened so fast didn’t it? And now your back is broken and your guts are burning in the sun. Again, good fortune, I will see to its purpose. Now I will ask you to call upon what little breath remains and answer one question for me. I have learned through the years that a dying man has no lies, that pain properly administered will crack the bosom of any man and show you all that he is made of; in this case, quite literally!

Tenwit leans closer, putting his hat over the orc’s face to shield the sun.

“A lovely girl priest was taken by the Red Cow last night. And I know the way orc tongues wag. Certainly you can tell me something?”

Nothing from the orc.

“I thought as much.” Tenwit moved closer. The orc, hopelessly paralyzed, did not feel the hand of the gnome push into the gaping wound beneath the breast cavity, seizing his faintly beating heart. The eyes of the orc blanched and rolled, “There’s the moment,” Tenwit whispered, “and a good silent end, the best way.”

Tenwit labored, elbow deep in the body, his voice rose to reach the ghost wolf that crouched in the distance, “You see, Marico, once you get past all the brawn and bluster of the orcs,” He at last tore the organ free and stood, awash in heartsblood, “All you find are little hearts.”

((wow, just wow. Awesome posts.))

A portal to safety, away from the harm before them, away from pain. A chance to escape what could have been, what would have been an end to that pain. With the strength she had left, she made that portal. Once it had opened, the others, battered and beaten had gone through.

All save for one.

She had always been the last one through her portals. It was a belief she had that no one gets left behind, no one. Rose turned to step into the portal, but hesitated. Letting it close before her, she turned back to face the attackers. The turn nearly caused her to faint as the wounds were beginning to make themselves known as the adrenaline wore off. Though still conscious, she fell to the ground, the pain was too great.

She looked at each one of them, taking note of who was there. She could hear them talking, words she could never understand, but the body language told some of their story to her. They were arguing over what to do with the prize. Looking over them, Rose looked towards Faithe who was visibly frightened and crying.

Thoughts raced through her mind as she couldn’t bear to just sit there helpless and let them take her away. But she remembered what Cyrus had said and anything done now will only further complicate the situation. Even through the injuries he received, his combat experience showed and made the right call. A cool head in the face of such overwhelming odds. Something she herself still had not gained.

The pain finally overtaking her, she watched as they marched away before passing out.
When she woke next, she was in a tent and something warm lay on her leg. Trying to sit up, pain suddenly shot through her like a bolt of lightning causing her to lay right back down. The sudden movement startled the wolf whose head rested on her leg. Yelping loudly, the wolf walked up to her face and licked it once. A moment later Wulfgrin stepped through the tent with a concerned look. Looking at the wolf, then to Rose, his expression turned from concern to relief.

Lightly tugging on the tail of the wolf getting its attention, he motioned for it to go outside.
“Thank you for watching her MB, but now she needs to rest, please go watch the door.”
The wolf giving one more lick, trotted out of the tent.

Wulfgrin sat on the stool next to Rose and took her hand gently. “You really had me scared this time. I don’t think my old heart can take these sights much longer.” He said smiling.

Rose smiled weakly and tried to sit up to speak. Holding her down with his hand, Wulfgrin shook his head. “You don’t listen do you? Lay back and rest.”

Lying down, she still turned to him to speak. He listened to her every word of what had happened. As she finished, Wulfgrin heard the sounds of a low growl from outside the tent. Reaching for his rifle slowly, he turned to face the door.

Stepping through the tent, Marico entered quickly.

His massive form rubbed against the sides of the tent. Despite his appearance, Wulfgrin knew he was still human inside and even after all these years, he still was not use to seeing him like this.

Marico, feeling the eyes on him, turned to Wulfgrin. “Will she be alright?”

Wulfgrin nodded. “The Ishnu did a number on her and the others, but the medic was able to fix most of the damage.”

Looking back to Rose, his face showed genuine concern, something Wulfgrin had never seen before.

“Leave me with her, you have done enough.” Marico said still looking down.

Wulfgrin stood in protest. “Now you just wait, I got her here and got her patc…” he tried to say but is cut off.

“I SAID GET OUT!” Marico shouted, his voice trembling. He looked at Wulfgrin with gentler eyes. “Please, let me be with my daughter.”

Shocked by this, Wulfgrin paused and then slowly nodded as he walked out. Motioning the wolf to follow, they went to the next tent and watched. Something felt really wrong in there, but he didn’t know how to react to it. He had never seen Marico like this.

And that really scared him.

((Poni's currently missing as part of a different plot, so this post is placed a little earlier in the timeline -- say, a week ago. Wherever future posters think it fits best.))

Poni Darkspear (she had never taken another name, content to be identified as part of that tribe) sat awake in the darkened longhouse. Most of the family had gone to bed, although a blood elf woman worked busily in the kitchen, seeing to it that all of the gleaming brass cookware was clean and ready for use the next day. The Homeland clan always had hungry mouths to feed, after all, and Alisitcia had, yet again, taken it upon herself to clean the common areas of the family's communal home.

Poni sighed, letting the newspaper fall to her desk. The reports of war hadn't let up, never mind that the Shu'halo shaman Redearth and the human paladin Ehlina had dueled to the near-death some time before. Poni had met Ehlina several times in the past and the two had formed something of a respectful understanding. Alas, thought Poni, Ehlina's tragic forced retirement hadn't meant the end of fighting.

"Dis will be de death of all of us," she said to no one in particular, not expecting any response. But a young voice responded. "Mama?" A young troll child, blue in fuzz and hair and wearing a traditional troll skirt made of leather, wandered into the room and held up her hands. "Story?"

Poni lifted the little girl into her disappearing (for the stories about troll families always getting larger, you see, are true) lap. "Ah, it is my turn," the hunter said with a smile, "your father is away today. I got a little carried away with dis paperwork." Beside the newspaper, splashed with maps of the Barrens and big headlines about the continued fighting, lay a number of letters that seemed to have been written by people seeking to stay with Poni's growing clan.

The troll woman pushed the newspaper and pile of forms away, and in so doing put them from her mind as well. She gave her precious daughter a hug, remembering that for all the grief war brought, those who fought were really trying to ensure that there would be land for future generations to call their own. And that went not just for the Horde, but for the Alliance, too.

Poni took a deep breath, then smiled. "Well, den. Let me tell you of de human I met once, and how she always did what she thought was right and honourable..."

She had returned to Dragonmaw Port, her strings laden with fish and her pouch filled with delicate herbs ready to be dried. A few of those strings of fish she knew she wouldn’t need. But they would still make good eating. So she had entered the local inn to sell some of her catch to the innkeeper there as she did on occasion.

“Good catch,” the innkeeper commented as he handed her coin for the fish. “Though I’m sure these aren’t as hefty of a prize as that human you got.”

“Human?” she wondered.

The orc nodded, then a worried frown formed. “You are that Red Earth, yeah? That’s what I recall.”

Red Earth nodded.

“Heard you captured a human woman earlier today.”

Now Red Earth frowned. “You must be mistaken. I’ve been fishing all day.”

“There you are!” came a booming voice from behind her. Red Earth spun at the sound of her sister’s approach. Kickfeather was looking a little worse for wear. It was obvious by the marks of dried blood and nicks in her armor that she had been in a battle. “Soooooo, um, I think I made a problem.”

“Does it involve a captured human?” Red inquired and her sister’s eyes grew wide. “Who else have you told?”

“Told? No one. I came straight away looking for you so I could tell you myself and you aren't always that easy to find, ya know, oh wait. . . . Well, I told Da Docs at their clinic. I figured maybe we should get someone to take a look at her and make sure she ain’t hurt. She was scared and stuff too. Don’t think she woulda liked me poking around her and all since I kinda helped tie her up. And what do I know about doctoring Pinkies anyway. They might have 4 hearts for all I know.”

“Da Doctas at their clinic, hmm? Outside, in Orgrimmar, for anyone and everyone nearby there to hear?”

“Yeah, like I said, I figured. . . .oh. Um, I think I made two problems.”

Red Earth gave her sister a comforting pat upon her cheek. Her sister always meant well, at least. She then directed Kickfeather to tell her what had happened and she listened intently as she related how they had come upon the Alliance in the Barrens while they patrolled, how they had refused to leave and turned aggressive and how they had taken hold of a young priest who they now had in custody being watched by the Mulgore guards at the Wall because though she did not fight, refused to leave the Barrens.

“Oskor said we should have just taken her and tossed her on a boat to Booty Bay.”

Red Earth nodded in agreement. “Probably, but we have her now. I’ll go take a look at her, see if we can learn about her intentions.”

Just then their hearthstones flickered with the voice of Brother Arapache. He had found a translator to speak to the human. A touch relieved that this would make things much easier, she told him she was on her way there.

((Yeah, this is somewhat of a veiled post for people to take note that Red Earth wasn't even there when Faithe was captured. Let's not confuse character's please. :) ))

"...and then Mama Red washed the black paint out of her fur and returned to Thunder Bluff," Furen was telling a circle of children. Most of them were tauren, their horns not even grown in yet, but there were also a few orcs and even a blood elf female, courtesy of Children's Week. Furen sat crosslegged and upwind of them, and had been laying out his substantial collection of stories--some true, some "embellished", and some complete kodo flop--with gusto to his rapt audience. He knew it was odd for a Forsaken, but he rather enjoyed the week he got to pick an eager little orc boy or girl and show him or her the world. It almost made him feel alive again...

"And once she returned to Thunder Bluff, she--oh, hello, Mama Red!" Furen sprang to his feet as he spotted Redearth--or at least, a tauren that LOOKED like Redearth. He took a moment to greet her in the traditional tauren way before launching into a tirade about a letter. He pulled said letter out of his belt pouch, and couldn't quite hide the AAMS letterhead as he held it up for her to see.

"It came from some Alliance person named Dustwing, forwarded to Yotingo, spent a while in our offices, and then forwarded to...me! Aren't you lucky?" The Forsaken grinned, flapping the paper. "Well, don't you want to see what it says?"

((Just had to. :D And, since I'm making some assumptions here, just say the word and I can change this to something else. ))

When Red Earth arrived at the small hut where the woman was being held, she was glad to see that she had been freed from her bonds and was seated comfortably upon the floor mat. Her face belied her ease, however. Along with her, Brother Arapache was there with a Night Elf hunter. The translator, she suspected. And not long after, Rulik joined them with a goblin in tow, a Docta whom she did not recognize, but seemed quite willing to help. She had been brought to look the human over to make sure she was in good health and had not been injured. After a few of Rulik’s comments, however, Red Earth suspected that his reasons for bringing the Docta has less to do with the welfare of the woman and more to do with what sort of value she might have in certain markets. But she brushed it off for now. Contrary to his opinions, he seemed willing to serve his duty as a subordinate to Red Earth’s decisions.

Words were being exchanged between Brother Arapache and this Elf, whom the Bull then introduced as Dustwing. Arapache explained that he knew of the elf’s language from his days as a druid in the Moonglade to passably understand enough for them to get some information. The words they then exchanged the rest of the evening were roughly translated but enough to gain an understanding of who this woman was.

Her name was Faithe and what little of the story she could tell Red Earth for her reasons for being in the Barrens surprised them all. Deeper details were not forthcoming, either because she would not answer the questions or the translation was limited. So Red Earth was unsure whether or not to trust the information. Especially in light of the fact that she was found in the company of those whom they currently considered enemies. If it was true, however, then there would be no reason to hold the woman. In fact, they might even be inclined to help her.

Faithe continued to talk and to plead. Words passing as best as they could from her to Dustwing to the two Shu’halo shamans. Then Arapache translated something that very much caught Red Earth’s ear.

“She says she’s not worth anything. And the only one who might truly care for her is someone named Gentyl, and she would not have much of worth to exchange for her if that is what we were hoping for.”

“Gentyl, she said? She knows Gentyl?”

Arapache nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know who that is.”

“I do,” Red Earth assured him. “She may not be as worthless as she thinks she is.”

She looked Faithe over as she considered the situation. She now wondered how long she could safely keep her.

“I need to make a few contacts. Tell her that we would need time to corroborate her story, “Red Earth instructed Arapache, who nodded and began to translate. “If she is telling the truth, then her time with us will be short and we will return her safely home. Until then, so long as she is in our custody, she can be assured that she will be treated well and with the utmost care.”

After a moment, Faithe nodded her head, understanding her words and what was to happen next.

Red Earth would have to work quickly. As she bid them all goodnight, Rulik informed her that the Warsong had been told of her capture. That, along with the open conversations Kickfeather had had in Orgrimmar made Red Earth worrisome. Worthless or not, the news of a captured Alliance would most likely draw the attention of someone among the Horde. Someone whom Red Earth could not guarantee would treat her with as much kindness and understanding as she did.

To Gentyl of the Pia Presidium,

I write to you seeking information. I met a young woman who calls herself Faithe. She claims to know you. I thought it prudent to inform you that she was found in the Barrens in the company of those whom we have come to consider enemies. They refused to leave when asked and then attacked my sister, Kickfeather. The resulting melee ended in our favor. However, Faithe, who did not raise arms against us herself, refused to leave the Barrens. And as a result it was Kickfeather’s decision to take her into custody and have me decide what to do with her.

She has come to no harm, minus a few sc!*!@s and bruises which have been tended to. I have decided to treat her as a guest until we have confirmed her intentions. So she will be well cared for while among the Ishnu Por Ah.

We had the privilege of speaking to each other briefly that to the help of a night elf and one among our number who was a little familiar with their language. Since your name came up, I assume you know of Faithe. And I seek to know if you can tell me why she would be in the Barrens with such people.

It is my hope you will reply post haste. Word has begun to work its way through the Horde of a captured human among the Tauren. And I worry for her safety. At the same time, I am not as of yet willing to just release her. If I do not hear from you in a few days’ time, I will have to reconsider the situation and it may not be in the most favorable way for any of us.

Earthmother guide you
Red Earth of the Blackhide

"Cyrus, you can't keep dodging me. What happened? Actually, scratch that. Just skip ahead to the part where you decided to make things hostile over there," Narnicka said rather calmly, eyeing his brother carefully for any signs of deception. Clearly, there was some tension, as Narnicka had always disagreed with any violence in the Barrens or Durotar. Something about those lands made him cringe at the thought of war.

"They were getting closer, Narn. My job was to protect her, and they needed to understand that any advancing upon her would be met with violence. Apparently sending a little blast of cold toward that shaman wasn't enough of a sign. I was actually hoping Faithe would escape while the majorty of that patrolling force was focussed on Moad, Rose and myself," Cyrus said in his usual tone of disinterest. Explaining himself to everyone who had approached him was growing old.

"So, what's your next move?"

"Get the last bits of my armor repaired and finish the job. My job was to see to the safety of that priestess. I haven't seen any reason to believe she won't be harmed in their custody. This time, I'll have the Ocheliad on my side. They're going to regret taking a hostage. What a cowardly..." Cyrus doesn't finish the sentence, settling for spitting to the ground at his right. "Doesn't matter. This time we'll be on even ground."

Narnicka seemed a bit disturbed by this, folding his arms. "But didn't Gentyl say your job was done? I distinctly remember overhearing that in her last conversation with your girl."

"I'd obviously prefer this to be sanctioned by Gentyl, but she can blow it out her back end if she thinks I'm just gonna let this go." Cyrus runs his thumb along his left eye, which is stitched shut. "An eye for an eye makes the whole blind, they say. Well, it's my turn to put out someone's eye. Gentyl's method seems to be one of negotiation, or at least that's what I'd expect from her. The Ocheliad way is punishment. So, as soon as Imperon gives me the green light, I'm leading forces back out there. Only to punish them."

(reserved)