World of Warcraft®

((This is going to be a bass ackwards post because I don't feel like sorting through all my files to find the Dragged story right now, but I want to put this up while I'm in the mood to write it. Faithe was traveling with a caravan that was attacked by a horde war party. Faithe's mother shielded the baby with her own body but died in the attack. One of the hunters heard the baby crying and was going to feed it to his hound, but another took Faithe, who was only a few weeks old, home to his own wife who had lost her baby. They raised Faith until she was ten when the council forced them to give Faithe back to the Alliance before it caused problems.

Faithe was then taken in by the church when she was ten and raised. She went back to check on her parents once and Souleater caught her. That was Souleater's Dragged story. She returned again later and was caught by an orc warrior who beat her nearly to death and told her not to return.

Faithe is going into the barrens to check on her orc parents. At some point, she will be captured. If someone in game wants to do it that's fine. If not, I'll just write it in. ))

Gentyl sat by the fire reading some letters. Faithe knew what they said because she had transcribed each one. The originals were tied with blue ribbons and each night Gentyl pulled one out to read beside the fire while Faithe completed the copies. A copy of each letter was returned to the man who had written them. They were too beautiful for someone to not realize someday that the old warrior had the heart of a poet.

The coals burned brightly in the fireplace, but Gentyl put another log on the fire and watched it collapse through a nearly burned through brand, sending sparks flying onto the hearth. Gentyl nudged them back with her boot and sat back down in her favorite chair. An evening breeze ruffled one of the tapestries near the partly cracked open window. In the glow of the fire, the faint motion made the hunting party in the tapestry look as though they were moving through the trees.

Gentyl sipped the tea flavored with spices and orange rind. That was a particular favorite of Faithe's also. Faithe closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The wood smoke, spices, oranges, mingled with just the faintest scent of roses from the bouquet Faithe had brought in earlier, but beneath was the earthier layer of hay and fresh horse manure on oiled leather. It was an odd perfume, but no more odd than the people of this order.

"How is Almark doing?" Gentyl asked, breaking the silence.

Faithe opened a jar of lotion and rubbed some on her hands. How was he doing? She had done everything she knew to do, but there were some wounds that were beyond her control. "He's doing better, Sepha. He hasn't been coughing blood lately, but I don't think that is due to my treatments. If anything, all I've been able to do is relax him a bit and clear his respiratory. I think he needs long term care and I doubt he will put up with me ducking his head under and sheet so he can inhale herbed steam much longer." She raised a silver eyebrow. "I think at first he believed I was making sport of him."

Gentyl laughed. "While I like Almark immensely, I think that might be unwise."

Faithe replaced the top on the jar and nodded. "I agree, Sepha, and yet he is very amenable to everything I have asked him to do. He even agreed to teach me how to play chess."

"Oh, I'm sure he would like that. I wish I had a mind for games, but I don't"

Faithe rearranged her writing instruments precisely. "Sepha, I am going to visit my parents as soon as I give Almark his last treatment."

Gentyl looked over toward the small writing desk where Faithe sat near the fire. "No you aren't."

"I have to, ma'am."

The cup clinked on the table next to Gentyl's chair. She reached down and pulled a boot off with the spur still attached. "I said no." The boot dropped with a heavy thump as if emphasizing what she said. The second boot followed.

"Sepha, if Papa had not taken me from that caravan I wouldn't be alive today. Another one of the hunters was about to set his hound on me when Papa found me."

The auburn hair fell around Gentyl's face when she pulled the thong loose binding it. "What happened last time you went to visit them?"

"He threatened to kill me if I returned, but I've messages from that area. No one has seen him for a long time. I think I can slip in and check on them. I want to take some supplies to them and make sure they are well. These battles are right where they are. I have to check on them."

"If you insist on going, I'll send an escort with you."

"I insist." She insisted, but she wasn't going with an armed escort. One person could slip though the lines easily enough. A war party would only stir up more problems.

((If y'all can, please wait until I transfer all the Faithe posts out of Stomping Hooves to this thread.))

Gentyl pulled the gryphon up sharply as she landed. Commander Turncutt had three horde on him, but none of them were recognized nor wore tabards familiars to her. She was dressed for fighting, not healing, but the Commander was fading quickly.

The three fighters fled after they had been dropped twice. It was then the hunter rode up between them with no war paint. He made a few gestures.

"Something's not right here," Gentyl said.

Turncutt smiled at the hunter and waved. "Not right at all," he replied, not dropping the smile. "Prepare to fly if he moves."

She adjusted the hammer beside her. She might fly, but it would be after he was stunned.

The hunter laughed, made a gesture and raised his weapon. Gentyl stunned him and almost immediately the hunter's friends attacked from behind. The rogue knocked her silly while the mage burned her down.

Score one for them.

The three flew away after dropping several times.

Turncutt spat in the dirt. "Cowardly dogs. I should have made you take wing."

"If I had, we wouldn't have lured them back out. At least it wasn't Ishnu attacking from the trees."

He shook his head. "More's the pity. I rather like engaging them. They've got a Tauren I'm told is named Kickfeather or something like that who's a real scrapper."

He pulled out a jug of bourbon and passed it to her. She took a healthy swallow and passed it back to him. "My priestess is bound and determined to come here to check on her parents. I think it's a poor idea with all the war parties, but she won't listen to reason."

Turncutt chuckled. "Is she related to her guild mistress?"

Gentyl reached out for the offered bottle. "Oddly enough, others have asked the same thing. Normally, she's docile as a lamb, but when she gets her mind set on something, there's no changing it and she's fearful her parents might be in harm's way."

"Doubt the horde would harm their own, but who knows if they find out the old orcs are harboring a human. You're sending an escort with her, aren't you?"

"Much to her dismay. One of the Manus men will go and I've hired Cyrus. Faithe is howling to the moon about slipping in and out before anyone knows she's here, but I don't believe the horde will miss much movement. If we keep the numbers low there's a possibility, I suppose."

((Faithe and her escort will be in the area before long.))

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."

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."

((Posted by Kickfeather))

It was to be a routine patrol. The Ishnu Por Ah were going to look over the route between Camp Una’fe and the Great Wall just to make sure things were relatively safe for the caravan they had planned to lead in the next couple days. As they gathered at the Camp discussing what sort of improvements they might make to help the people there, Brother Arapache arrived to join them with news that Alliance were spotted near the Crossroads.

“Again?!” Kickfeather proclaimed. Earlier they had already been to the Crossroads because of an Alliance attack. Cowards who ran as soon as they caught sight of a Tauren and a Troll ready to fight. Since they were nearby, Kickfeather gave the order to head north and see what they could find.

Nephansi was the one to find them. A small group of Alliance, heavily armed. But they were not at the Crossroads, they were west of it. Among the ruins that Rethgar Deathgate still watched over. It didn’t much matter, why they were there. It was Horde land and their presence there could not be tolerated. They surrounded them and warned them off. But slowly, Kickfeather began to recognize some of the faces. The mage woman. The Draenei. Others especially recognized the Draenei. They had been in the southern Barrens. They had been a part of those who fought with the invaders. But Kickfeather did not immediately engage them. They were being different. They weren’t attacking on sight. Something wasn’t right. She threatened them again, trying to tell them to leave. She even turned to Yotingo of the AAMS who was with them.

“Can you talk to them? Can you translate. Sis might get mad at me later for using you, but I’ll deal with that when it comes.”

“They’re protecting her,” someone realized, indicating the young human they surrounded. From the look of her dress, a priest of some sort. Kickfeather directed her attention to this little woman and tried to tell her to be off. The other Alliance stepped in her way. Kickfeather grumbled. Threats arose from them and they were now telling her to go away. Which was ridiculous!

“You don’t belong here. We’re telling YOU to leave!”

The tension grew thicker. The Draenei growled threateningly and lifted his weapon. He was a Death Knight, the land around him began to decay with the rise of his threats. In that moment, Kickfeather could see where this was going to lead.

She stepped towards him boldly. She looked between him and the mage. “You want to fight me? Then do it. Here I am!”

It was as if he understood her words, and he reached out his hand, dragging her towards him and the battle ensued. Without remorse, Kickfeather and the others fought them. The Alliance had thrown the first blow and done it upon Horde land. And fate seemed to agree with them. It did not take long for the Ishnu Por Ah to bring them down, the little priest they were protecting, running off in the wake of the battle.

They pursued her and surrounded her. She had not fought like the others, and so now Kickfeather was unsure what to do with her. She was unarmed and it was against everything she knew not to harm an unarmed person, even if it was a Pinkie in the middle of a war zone. Though she was in bad company. And it was a war zone. But still. . . .she didn’t fight. And, Por Ah! Now she was crying!

She tried to tell her to go away, but she wouldn’t. Rulik wanted to kill her, or at least take her prisoner. Maybe even sell her into slavery. But most others, including Kickfeather, couldn’t agree to the latter. And Por Ah knew, she wasn’t just going to leave her in the middle of the Barrens, an unknown Pinkie with unknown intentions. Fel, the whole crying bit could be some rouse just to make ‘em leave her alone so she could do something worse. They would take her ‘prisoner’. Back to Mulgore until she could get her sister to figure out what to do with her. And Kickfeather knew Red Earth would be just as curious as herself to know why they were in the Barrens like they were.

Binding her up, they took her back to Mulgore’s Great Wall where the guards would watch her until she could find big Sis and they could figure out what to do with her.

((Posted by Cyrus))

Cyrus dismounted his deathcharger, closely watching the expression of Faithe, a priestess he had been tasked with protecting. A few others were with him, but they were mainly there to discourage any Horde from attacking Faithe while she sifted through the wreckage of what must have been her home. She looked extremely upset, and the word "bodies" came to Cyrus's ear. It was clear to Cyrus that whatever relatives Faithe had come to reunite with were long gone. There were not bodies, so being dead wasn't the first assumption that came to Cyrus's mind. Perhaps they'd just cleared out when they had the chance to escape a warzone.

One word caught Cyrus's attention.

"Horde," Moadyed spoke. Moad was a Draenei not quite as big as Cyrus, but quite an accomplished shaman. Following his orders from Wolfgaar, Moad seemed to be staying very close to Faithe while Cyrus stood out in front to discourage anyone from even getting close to her.

"This is bad," Cyrus spoke, glancing up. Several Tauren and Trolls seemed to have discovered them. "Moad, keep an eye on Faithe while she looks for any signs of a body. I'm not sure how long it'll be before this gets violent."

Soon enough, a black-fur Tauren stepped out from the gathered Horde, shouting threats and the like at Cyrus, trying to bully them into leaving. Obviously not about to leave the area, Cyrus had no choice but to stay and protect Faithe with the rest of the escort that had come with her while she searched the ruins for signs of her parents. Several of the Horde that had gathered seemed to recognize Cyrus from the raids he had led against Desolation Hold in the weeks prior. Cyrus gripped his sword, but realized something before drawing it out into view.

"Moad, stay close to her. We're majorly outnumbered...." He spoke, looking from the different wyverns that where patiently keeping their riders high overhead. It was hard to get an accurate count on them with his focus on the black-fur Tauren with the big mouth, but it was obvious that Faithe's escort was not going to be enough.

Cyrus had become so used to Common, Orcish phrases seemed to be slipping his mind, but one stuck out from the rest. That Tauren just challenged him. "Wish granted," He spoke, the ground underneath his hooves starting to decay the ground around him. Using death's reach, he seized the Tauren, violently yanking her toward him. In the same motion, he drew his sword and brought it down vertically at her, hoping for a fast and brutal kill. He'd underestimated her, however, and her blade rose to meet his with a loud impact that actually showered sparks. With that, this tense moment of warning and hostiltiy turned into a warzone. It was over before it had begun.

Between the dust kicked up by mobile combatants and the several bolts of lightning that penetrated his armor, Cyrus had lost track of Faithe. Moad had apparently been badly hurt and was unable to continue. The fighting drug on for what felt like forever, but in reality was probably only a few minutes long.

When the dust settled, Cyrus was barely standing. A wound was gushing blood from under his left legplate and his breathing was labored under the stress of several broken ribs. His normally white hair was matted red on one side from a vicious strike to the head. He didn't remember who'd given him that one. Rose, a rather skilled mage, was behind Cyrus and still standing. "Rose, I think they took Faithe hostage. If.." Cyrus winced, realizing that speech was going to be painful for a few days. "They'll likely hurt her if we press the fight... get up a portal..."

With that, the mage pulled a hole into the space between them and the Horde forces gathered. Cyrus looked barely able to stand, but managed to seize Moad's left shoulderguard and pull him through the portal shortly before it vanished.

Safely in Stormwind's Mage Tower, Cyrus collapsed. Six's transportation chip that had been implanted in his tail reacted the moment it sensed that Cyrus's pulse had ceased, and it teleported him away to the Tower's infirmary for resuscitation.

((Posted by Faithe))

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.

((Posted by Faithe))

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.

((Posted by Yotingo))

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...

(Posted by Faithe)

The bull sitting next to her lumbered to his feet when another tauren darkened the doorway. Two others stepped in and bound Faithe with magic. Even though they had already taken her weapon, they were making sure she presented no harm to the newcomer. This must be their leader.

The female bowed to her and Faithe responded.

A heated discussion ensued. Faithe caught a few words, but most of it flew by. Then there was silence as the flapping of wings signaled a new arrival. Faithe nearly wept with relief when the night elf male stepped up beside the tauren female and bowed to her.

"You're here to help me," Faithe blurted out.

"Yes, but only to translate. I can't take you home yet. I will get word to your people. My name is Dustwing"

Faithe tried to steady her shaking knees.

The tauren female started off with a barrage of questions, which the elf translated.

"Red Earth wants to know who you are and what you were doing here."

Faithe responded, trying to explain her concern for the orc parents who had raised her.

"If you were raised by orcs, why can't you speak orcish?"

"It's been a long time. I've forgotten."

"Why didn't you meet them in Ratchet, instead of invading our lands?"

Faithe sighed. "They are old. Mama is blind. It would be painful for Papa to ride that far. Please, I was only bringing supplies to them and I found their home burned down. Ask her if she knows where they are."

Red Earth scowled. At last Dustwing turned back to her. "I don't think she believes you, but she said they will look for the old ones."

Faithe caught onto a glimmer of hope. "Tell her Gentyl will pay them to return me."

Red Earth's ears flicked forward in interest when Dustwing mentioned Gentyl. He turned to Faithe, "She wants to know what connection you have to Gentyl."

"I'm a Holy Guard," Faithe said. "Gentyl assigned me to the Manus Ignota as an ambassador."

Dustwing quickly translated. Red Earth frowned and pawed at the ground a bit with one hoof.

"Red Earth knows Gentyl. She doesn't like her much. She's a good fighter."

Faithe laughed in spite of herself. "Gods, she's a horrible fighter. She gets knocked out all the time. The only thing is she doesn't know when to stop. She's like a badger and won't give up." Faithe looked shocked at her own words. "Oh, Light, don't translate that. Gentyl probably wouldn't be happy to hear me say that if it gets back to her."

Dustwing laughed but nodded.

Red Earth looked between the two of them and frowned.

"She wants to know what we're talking about," Dustwing said.

Faithe sighed. "All right, tell her."

The two spoke a bit longer and then Dustwing bowed to them both. "She says they will keep you safe until she decides what to do with you. I have to return to Stormwind now."

Faithe took off her tabard and handed it toward the elf. "Give it to Gentyl. She'll understand what it means."

Two guards stepped closer, but allowed him to take the tabard.

"Thank you, Dustwing."

"Elune keep you," she said and bowed. Then he was gone with a great flapping of wings and with him went her hope.

((Posted by Arapache))

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.

(posted by marico)

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.

(Posted by Tenwit)

“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.”

(Posted by Fallenrose)

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.

Gentyl was exhausted. She hadn't slept in two days, but she wanted to stop in the Recluse and see if Cyrus had returned yet. It was early and Faithe would probably want to stay a few day. Gentyl smiled. Knowing Faithe she would probably press everyone into action to repair the hut and property before they left. She wondering how Cyrus would look with a hoe in his hand, tending the tiny garden Faithe said they always kept.

For someone quiet and unassuming she had a remarkable gift for encouraging others to work. The escort would probably be glad to get home and rest in the practice yard.

Plus, she needed to check her mail. She smiled at the package from Faithe. The girl had spent her last days rushing around to make potions and mail them out for those who needed them. Gentyl was running out of bank space for them.

Gentyl walked over to the bar and ordered a pot of tea and opened the box while she waited. It was an old, bright pink cloth doll with long silver hair and a little ruffled dress. Gentyl knew the doll. Her orc mother had despaired of finding any dolls that looked like Faithe in the markets and had made her one. She had dyed the linen with some wildflowers that turned the cloth a most unappealing color and the old orc woman had cried, but Faithe insisted she loved that color and wanted a doll made of the cloth. When she was done with the doll, she then sewed Faithe and the doll matching dresses, each stitch carefully placed by hand in the bright sunlight. Even then her eyesight was failing. Faithe had taken the doll with her to the abbey when the old orcs were forced to give her up.

A note lay on top the doll. "Sophi will keep you company until I return. Don't get her dirty!"

She smiled and turned to a nearby table, setting down the teapot, cup, and package.

Ciellia sat at the other end, talking to a friend. "His heart wasn't beating when he arrived."

Gentyl pulled out a chair. "Whose heart wasn't beating?"

Ciellia's eyes narrowed, almost in accusation. "Cyrus. His heart was stopped for several minutes. We don't know if he'll recover."

Gentyl wilted into the chair. "I'm so sorry." Her hand shook as she poured some honey into the tea cup. "Any word of the others?"

Ciellia shook her head.

Gentyl clasped both hands around the cup and drank the steaming tea, trying to clear her mind. The citrus rind sharpened the scent while the honey soothed her aching throat. She hadn't eaten yet today and her stomach threatened to spill what little was in it. The honeyed tea soothed her enough to seize control. "I need to seek out some information," she said and started to stand.

A dust-covered courier strode into the inn and looked around, his gaze settling on her. "Lady Gentyl. I have an urgent message."

Dustwing was often serious, but his heavy green brows knit together now in a frown deep enough to plant. She didn't bother to protest the title. He nodded upstairs and she gathered her things, following him numbly.

"I've seen Faithe," he said as soon as they sat down.

"Is she all right?"

"She looked fine to me. She's frightened, but she's all right. The Ishnu have her and they called in someone from Da Doctas to look at her. The goblin says she's healthy."

"Why didn't you bring her back?" She took a sip of tea and stared into his eyes, searching for hidden messages.

"I was allowed to go in as a translator only. They're going to keep her until they determine what to do."

Gentyl nodded and set the cup down. "I see. What do they want for her? I don't have much gold, but I can raise some."

There. There was the catch in his eyes. He looked down. "One of the orcs wants her. Redearth said that is not their way. They don't keep slaves."

"But?"

"But they might be willing to trade her. There is someone named Liko missing. Find him and they might trade the girl for him. That or they might trade information. Give them word of Alliance troop movements in exchange for the girl."

Gentyl lifted the doll out of the box and stroked the silky hair. "I'll do what I can to find Liko, whoever that is. If information is the price, Faithe's life is forfeit. I won't trade one life for many."

Dustwing flinched. "I see. They might accept gold. I don't know."

"Gold I can get."

Dustwing stood up and bowed. "Lady Gentyl. I'm at your service."

"Please just take a message back to her. I want a meeting in person and I want AAMS translators."

(Posted by Poni)

((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..."

(Posted by Red Earth)

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. :) ))

(Posted by Red Earth)

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.