World of Warcraft®

((Originally when I started posting this on the Ishnu Por Ah forums, it was done deliberately in little bits at a time, hence the little breaks occurring where they do. The format’s changed, evolved, what have you, over time so that posts are generally a little longer now. Hope you enjoy!))

Escaping. That’s all Kaeevanrash could think about: escaping, and the myriad obstacles that were making that more difficult to accomplish. His heart was pounding so hard from running that it felt like it was going to explode. His limbs were beginning to feel like lead, and the broken iron shackles on his wrists certainly didn’t help. He had no weapons nor armor, his only clothing being some tattered cloth pants.

The tauren shaman wasn’t even entirely sure just where he was. He thought he might be still be in Ashenvale Forest, but where? He couldn’t think on it long enough to figure that out yet. Right now, he just knew he had to get away. He just had to find some place where he could hide and rest. Some place where the certain death that was following him would not discover him.

********
The path Kaeev ran on began to slope downhill somewhat. His running slowed to a clumsy stumble, his limbs quaking from exertion and his breath ragged as he drifted off the path into the foliage. As he tried to descend a rocky hill his hooves slipped, and he made the rest of that descent in a painful tumble.

His whole body ached, but he did not feel he had broken anything from the fall, thankfully. He got up slowly, still a bit disoriented when he heard a low growl behind him. He whirled around quickly and looked up in time to see a dark-furred nightsaber jumping off the rocks right at him, bearing menacing claws and fangs.

********

“Umph!” grunted Kaeev as he caught the large cat, kicking it behind him as they fell. The cat landed on the ground several paces away, but it did not stay there long. By the time Kaeev sat up and turned, the nightsaber was upon him again. It was both big and heavy, and the shaman was able to keep its attacks at bay only so much. He caught one of its paws in one hand, the other hand locked in its maw as he managed to catch its bite on his wrist. It was a small boon granted by an unlikely source; the shackle still on his wrist was protecting it from the crushing and tearing of the cat’s powerful jaws. But it still had a paw free, and it was gradually getting past Kaeev’s arm in attempt to claw at his neck and face.

The cat did not look starved by any means, for that was the first reason Kaeev could think of that he would be attacked in this manner. Unless--which he quickly realized--this beast was sent after him specifically to slay him.

********

Fear, in a greater degree than before, began to set in on Kaeev. Fear that, even if he did not sustain mortal injury, this beast would slow him enough that the death in pursuit would surely catch up to him. Galvanized into action, he shut his eyes as he suddenly relaxed his arm that was in the nightsaber’s mouth, which caused to beast to press right up against his body.

Before the beast could react and move in for a lethal bite, it hissed and whimpered as it began to convulse, while Kaeev’s hands glowed a bluish white with the sizzle of electricity. This small call was enough to subdue the beast, and for Kaeev to give it a hefty shove off him with a hoof.

But the adrenaline was still pumping through the shaman’s veins, and he did not stop there. He quickly got up and staggered the few paces to the nightsaber and brought down a heavy hoof on its throat with a sickening ‘crunch’. It went still instantly.

********

Kaeev looked away, regret on his face for what he just did. He knew he had to do what he just did. One way or another, he likely would not have survived another encounter with this now-dead nightsaber. He checked himself for scratches: he was bleeding, but not badly. He’d be all right. Another surge of adrenaline kicked in as he continued running, daring not to look back behind him as he strayed further off the path into the forest.

A short time later he arrived in a small clearing where he stopped to catch his breath, the first real opportunity he had to do so. He didn’t get to for very long before distant shouts reached his ears. He listened hard, trying to quiet his own breathing in the process.

He heard a distant scream, one of words he did not recognize. A moment later he heard it again. It was that of a female, and the words were in Darnassian, and with the way it was said, it almost sounded like a name. Then it hit him: the nightsaber. They had found its body. They were not far behind.

Kaeev hurriedly pressed on, getting short on breath again as he left the clearing and crashed through more brush. Then, as he passed a tree, he suddenly had the strange impression that he should stop. It was the last thing he wanted to do; he kept going. But the impression soon came again. Gasping for breath at this point, he acted on the prompting this time, stopping and leaning himself against a great tree.

As he labored to catch his breath, he happened to look at the tree’s massive roots, and noticed an abundance of moss growing on and in between them. Feeling oddly curious, he reached and pulled off what ended up being a large hunk of the stuff. He examined it closely, sniffing it a bit when he then got an idea. He looked heavenward.

**********

Night elf sentinels--several of them--stole their way through the wood with blades drawn and arrows nocked on their bows. Several Nightsabers followed suit with them, quietly sniffing out the area for unusual scents. What little noise they did make was almost completely drowned out by the sounds of forest life.

In the past, Ashenvale Forest was a sparsely settled hunting ground, the ancestral homeland of the night elves for millennia. That all changed when the Burning Legion came again into their lands only three years before. The hunting in and caring of this lush forest was left by the wayside to do battle against the demonic threat. Though the Legion was defeated, the Kaldorei traditions surrounding this had never been fully embraced again. Just a couple of years was all it took for forces both natural and unnatural to take over the majority of the land. Roads had become overgrown and nigh impassable as they yielded to the verdure, the sky almost completely blocked out by the expanding canopy. The Horde had slowly begun harvesting lumber in the east. Naga had surfaced in the west, and traces of the Legion still remained in parts of the land. Finally, the wildlife, fueled by the surge of vegetation and lack of hunting, had overrun much of the land. In short, Ashenvale Forest had become a land that was wild, dangerous and beautiful all rolled into one.

The sentinels cautiously pressed onward, the plants proving to be but a slight hindrance in their search for their quarry. Occasionally one of them would hold up a hand for silence to listen, but simply motion for them to continue forward a moment or two later. Their Nightsabers eyed their surroundings with them, continuing sniffing the ground. The group moved on, gradually making their way back toward what was left of a road.

....From underneath a massive tree root that looked practically buried in foliage, Kaeevanrash watched them pass by until they were out of sight, before giving a quiet but very long sigh of relief. He was safe...for now.

***************

Finally the shaman could breath normally again. It took every ounce of effort he could muster to keep his breath quiet after all that running. That flash of what he believed to be inspiration worked well in his favor; the moss that he stumbled across masked his scent well enough for him to hide and remain undetected. The thought came to him that maybe with some alchemy he could devise some sort of elixir that would have a similar effect, but he didn’t dwell on it long as a more pressing question soon returned: where exactly was he?

From his vantage point he looked around, hoping to find any visual clues as to his whereabouts. It definitely looked like Ashenvale, but he had no idea what part of the forest he might be in. He was relatively familiar with the region, but he did not recognize any landmarks that would tell him what part of the forest. Then, a distant sound he heard made his settling heart sink: that of waves crashing. He would only be able to hear that if he were somewhat close to the region’s western shore.

He breathed a discouraged sigh and rested his head on the soft earth. As he laid there quietly in his hiding place, musing over his predicament, fatigue soon gave way to sleep.

Splintertree Post was to the south and far to the east. He had a long trip ahead of him.

Three days ago…

“Hey Kaeev!”

The shaman ignored the gruff voice calling after him. He was busy chopping away at a huge tree, and he’d only just started. He was one among several orcs doing the same job.

The voice called for him again, this time sounding a little more serious. “Grunt!”

He stopped upon hearing his rank, and turned to face the voice’s source. An orc guard, clad in spiked armor and bearing a crude axe in one hand and a parchment in the other, stood before him. The guard traded glances between the writing on the parchment and Kaeev, the latter look having a disapproving feel about it. Finally the guard spoke, offering Kaeev the parchment. “I’ve orders f’r you to report to Blood Guard Stoneaxe at the Kargathia Keep immediately.”

The shaman did his own trade of glances between the guard and the tree he had begun chopping away at. “Now, Grunt,” said the guard. 

Suppressing the urge to scowl (among other things) at the guard, Kaeev nodded as he put down his axe, took the parchment and started toward Kargathia Keep, dusting flecks of bark off on his pants and then wiping his brow and on his shirt before ruffling it in an attempt to cool off. Notwithstanding the guard and having no idea what he was being summoned for, he welcomed the “break” he was getting.

The past several months had not been very fun for him. He had proven himself in battle and on several missions in the service of the Horde while stationed in the Barrens, only to get sent up to Ashenvale to do little more than chop wood at the Warsong Lumber Camp. He never considered himself strong as far as tauren go, but the stereotype around here was that any tauren was more than qualified for unskilled manual labor. He was a shaman, a gifted shu’halo with close ties to the Spirits and the elements. Here, he was just another laborer, a laborer with valuable skills and a good reputation that seemed to have gone unrecognized. And finally, there was the whole business of cutting down the trees. He understood that the harvest of lumber was necessary for the Horde to establish a foothold in this land and supply their needs elsewhere, but the deforestation here still nagged at him. He could feel the land’s pain when he first arrived here, and it was only growing with time as more trees fell to saw and axe.

He breathed a sigh, glancing at the parchment as he made his way through the camp toward Kargathia Keep. The note had nothing further to add from what he’d already been told.

More guards keeping the way into Kargathia Keep parted as Kaeev showed them the parchment with Stoneaxe’s seal upon it. The keep itself still was not yet completed, but it was far enough along in its construction that a command post had already been established there. Entering the keep, he made his way around the circular hall to the doorway leading into the main room. Once there, he rolled his shoulders back, stood up straight and entered the main room, maintaining bearing.

The main room was rather large, but cluttered with construction materials. At one end of the room there was a large desk, filled with stacks of paperwork, maps and the odd weapon here and there. Two orcs sat there, studying a map of the region. The first was large in stature with deep green skin, hazel eyes and long black hair. Both his physical features and armor were well-kept, even for an orc. He looked quite busy. The other orc appeared lesser by comparison on all accounts: a bit lanky, more crude armor and looking rather stressed. It wasn’t hard for Kaeev to guess which of the two was Blood Guard Stoneaxe. He came to the desk, stopping some paces away before facing the pair directly. His hooves made a slight “click” as they came together and he saluted the officer, saying, “Sir, Grunt Kaeevanrash reporting as you ordered.”

Stoneaxe eyed him up and down, a look the shaman had received many times in the past several minutes. After a moment of silence that was beginning to grow awkward, the officer stated, “At ease, Grunt.”

Kaeev relaxed his stance, waiting anxiously to hear the reason he was summoned here.

Stoneaxe was right to the point. “Are you a shaman?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” answered Kaeev, a hint of pride in his voice. His response was met with another quiet and awkward moment as Stoneaxe eyed him up and down again.

 “The shamans of my people are often easy to distinguish by their trinkets, paintings or tattoos,” said Stoneaxe with some skepticism, “yet I do not see any on you. Where are yours?”

“I have them, sir,” replied Kaeev. To affirm this, he held out his hands with his palms open. He frowned slightly as looked at them himself. Gray and blue symbols were indeed painted on the palms of his hands and on his wrists, but they had become badly faded with time and hard labor.

Stoneaxe looked at them and grunted, seeming satisfied. “A servant of the storm,” he muttered aloud more to himself than to Kaeev. The shaman nodded anyway.

Stoneaxe then fixed his eyes angrily on the other orc, who yelped in pain as the officer stood suddenly and dealt him a swift thump on the head with his fist. “Idiot,” said Stoneaxe, gesturing with a hand toward Kaeev as he verbally berated the other orc, quoting him in a mocking tone. “’There aren’t any shamans here,’” he said. “‘Send for one from Orgrimmar or Thunder Bluff.’ Yes, waste even more days waiting, doing paperwork—“ He took a moment to then gesture toward the tall, unkempt stack of parchment on the desk. “while one resides here right under our very noses! And you put him to work, chopping wood with the peons!”

At this point, Kaeev was looking a little bemused as he watched. He then tensed as Stoneaxe looked his way suddenly and said, “How long have you been here, shaman?”

Hesitating briefly, Kaeev looked up as he quickly recollected. “About 4 months sir,” he answered hastily.

“FOUR MONTHS!” bellowed Stoneaxe before bopping the other orc on the head again. “And only just TODAY, after sifting through all this—“ He gestured to the pile of parchment again. “--did I find record of him even being here! Get out of my sight, before I put you in his place for four YEARS. Dismissed, Sergeant!”

The other orc, quailing from the reprimand, saluted smartly and left the room in haste through the doorway opposite the one Kaeev entered in.

“Uggh! Useless..” exclaimed Stoneaxe before sitting back down in his chair, rubbing his temple for another seemingly long and awkward moment while Kaeev stood there, fearing to make any sound lest the Blood Guard turn his wrath on him.  The officer’s arm fell from his temple, his hand landing on the table with another ‘thump’ as he then fixed his eyes on Kaeev and gave a frustrated sigh before he spoke again.

Stoneaxe’s tone of voice was level now. “Grunt,” he began, “if you ever are given command over a post, keep things organized.” The last three words were said slowly and emphatically. “Otherwise, you might find yourself in that sergeant’s boots when someone comes to take over.” He looked out the doorway that orc had departed and shook his head with with a grumble. Kaeev simply nodded his head, keeping silent.

Stoneaxe’s gaze then fell to the map on the desk as he reached underneath it and pulled out another parchment. Holding it in front of him, he began to read it out loud.

“Grunt Kaeevanrash.”

“Yes sir,” answered Kaeev swiftly. Stoneaxe merely raised an eyebrow as he paused, looking up at the shaman briefly before reading on. “Winterhoof tribe by blood, trained as a shaman with the Stormspeaker tauren.” He simply mumbled as he read between lines he deemed more noteworthy. “Recommended for service in the Horde by his elders for his gifts.” More mumbling. “Kaeevanrash was instrumental in maintaining security at the various Horde posts within the Barrens. He quickly rose to the task in combating the local threats; centaur, quillboar, silithid, Venture Company, Druids of the Fang, it did not matter. He not only played a crucial role in repelling these threats but also…” He then spoke with some emphasis again. “…used his healing abilities to sustain his fellow grunts, keeping casualties to a minimum. Signed, Sergra Darkthorn.”

He set the parchment down, fixing his eyes on Kaeev again. “She is not one that is easy to impress, shaman. I think you are just the one we need for an important mission.”

Stoneaxe beckoned Kaeev closer with one hand, the other turning the map around so the shaman had a clear view of it. There were various marks on it to indicate certain locations, including the lumber camp as well as another post just west of it. The officer put a finger on that spot. “Splintertree Post—here—is our newest and westernmost location within the Ashenvale Forest. We hope to change that soon by setting up an outpost on the western shore, here.” He set his finger on each location as he spoke. “In order to be able to effectively communicate with that post, our wind riders will need to know the quickest and safest route they can take without worry of Alliance or other forces trying to shoot them down.”

He looked up at Kaeev briefly before continuing, again indicating different locations with a finger. “That is where you come in. Right now we know the major Alliance posts between us and the shore are Astranaar, here, and Maestra’s Post here. Those are the ones we know of, but we think there may be more. I want you as part of a scouting party to make your way across the forest to the shore. Document the location of any posts you find, Alliance or otherwise. Avoid confrontation with them as much as possible; this is a reconnaissance mission, not a hunt for blood.” He spoke that last part of the sentence with emphasis. “Finally, when you return, your party will report your route to me.”

He leaned back in the chair, looking up at Kaeev, “Report to Sergeant Ugath, he will be your party leader. Dismissed, Grunt.”
 
“Sir,” said Kaeev, coming to attention and saluting Stoneaxe, who returned it with his own salute while saying, “Lok’tar ogar.”

The shaman marched out the way he came. Once he was out of the room and out of Stoneaxe’s sight, he resumed a normal walk and looked at his open hands again, with their faded paintings on them. He frowned again. It had been some time since he had called upon the Spirits, and he felt like it showed.

He stepped out of Kargathia Keep, still looking at his hands. Then, getting the feeling someone was watching him, he stopped and looked up. Sure enough, there was the guard that originally brought him the order to come here, standing there.

“What did he tell you?” said the guard.

Rather than mention the specifics of the mission Stoneaxe had given him, Kaeev only answered, “He asked that I report to Sergeant Ugath as soon as possible.”

The guard smirked. “You’ve found him, Grunt. Go meet with the quartermaster and get yourself some armor. We leave early on the morrow.”

((Apologies if there was some confusion in reading previously. Somehow I 'missed a spot' initially, but I believe it's all corrected and in order now.))

Two days ago...

Kaeev came to slowly and in a daze that made his stomach turn. The taste of blood on his lips became apparent, and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know where he was or what had happened, only that he was in pain. His head pounded like a hammer on an anvil as his vision was still unclear. His back felt sore and sc!#*#d, as if he had been dragged. And the side of his neck ached like something sharp pricked him badly. The last thing he could remember before now was leaving with Sergeant Ugath and the rest of the party that morning, deviating from the main path once they had crossed the river just past Splintertree Post, at the bridge.

His hand reached up to massage his aching head. His hand felt heavy as he lifted it, but he thought nothing of it as his senses still remained in a stupor.

..until an awful sound reached his ears: the jangle of iron chains.

**********

The fetters on Kaeev’s wrists immediately went taut as the sound registered in his mind, and for a brief moment his senses became clear. He did not notice the chains that were on his hooves, and that they were shorter in length than the ones on his wrists. Thus, as he stumbled onto his hooves to move forward, he tripped as those chains went taut also and he fell forward, howling in pain at the terrible strain this put on his arms before he slumped onto the ground. His senses floundered again and his stomach felt as though it would heave like an oncoming tide. Voices reached his ears, startled shouts in Darnassian. Further disoriented, his cries settled to agonized moans as he managed to keep his stomach under control, and he looked up from the dirt and strained to focus.

Blurred shapes moved in front of him, keeping their distance as they continued to shout the same words in Darnassian that he could not understand while they brandished their weapons. Another voice shouted at them in the same language, and the fuzzy shapes parted as another made its way through them and toward him.

The shapes finally began to take form as the shaman’s daze began to fade, at least for now. There were several night elves eyeing him with angry glares as the central figure approached him. Clad in a fine, hard leather cuirass and with long brown hair and a scruffy face came a human, who was soon right in his face with a sneer that was quickly annoying the shaman. Kaeev spied insignias on his shoulders, which hinted that he was of significantly higher rank in the Alliance. The thought came that he could shatter the man’s leg with a well-placed kick, but the eyes of the others watching him indicated that was not a good idea. He was in no place to attack without harsh consequence. He was a prisoner. The shame of it all began to weigh on him. He said nothing to the human who was still looking him over, letting his head loll to one side as he avoided the human’s gaze. What was there to say anyway, thought Kaeev. I do not understand them, and I doubt they will understand me. He stared off at nothing, certain that the human would speak soon enough, if he had anything to say at all.

"Well aren't you a pathetic sight," said the human. What the human said was not what surprised Kaeev; he understood him. The human was speaking Taurahe; certainly not like a native speaker, but well enough. His eyes locked with the human's at this. "You understand me, then?" asked the human, noting Kaeev's reaction.

Kaeev looked away again. He nodded slightly. Knowing what was likely to follow, he thought he might avoid it with another matter. "I'm thirsty," said the shaman.

The human frowned, and said nothing. The silence was long enough that Kaeev looked at the human for a reply. The human's visage then shifted suddenly from disappointed to hateful. "You might get some water when you answer my questions, Horde scum!" he exclaimed, dealing Kaeev a hard blow across the face with a gloved fist. "What were you doing sneaking around these woods with a bunch of orcs?"

Kaeev's dizziness returned with the blow, but he still managed to keep his nausea under control, making no effort to retaliate. His memory was still foggy from the time that he departed the camp, and so he answered nothing.

The human persisted. "What was your mission?"

Kaeev still did not answer, feeling the side of his head that throbbed anew from the blow. He could feel where blood, now dried, had trickled down the side of his face; this explained the taste of blood he had earlier.

The human hmphed at the shaman's silence. "I suppose the poison on that dart can have that effect on people, making them ill and forgetful. The one for you would have killed smaller creatures.”

Kaeev felt his own neck that was still aching. This explained a lot of things for him. The human smirked as he could see the realization coming to the shaman.

"Perhaps I should enlighten you on what happened,” he began, drawing a dagger and tossing it idly. “We spotted your party, not long after you crossed the bridge over the Falfarren River. Spying on the outpost we had established at Mystral Lake." He then chuckled. "Your leader was a loud one. It didn't take much to dispatch him, especially with surprise on our side. The others panicked after that, and they soon followed your leader in death.” He nodded at Kaeev. “You took an arrow or two yourself, or so these night elves say. I guess you only survived because you were their healer.” Another chuckle. “Your superiors must have been desperate, sending a shaman whose strength was not in his healing. Still, you tried to raise your friends, but the elves put you under before you could finish. We needed one for questioning, after all.”

He laughed as he observed Kaeev’s look of astonishment at his words. “You wonder how I know so much? Your marks--even the faint ones on your hands, are what give you away. Oh yes, I know your kind, you are no stranger to me.”

Kaeev could not in a far better state--let alone his current state--fathom in his mind how a human would be this knowledgeable of him. “Who are you?” spoke the shaman finally.

“I am Knight Darrick Malagan, and I lead the Alliance forces in this part of the land.” answered the human. He then pointed the dagger at Kaeev. “And you would do well to remember my name, shaman, for you--” Kaeev’s chin lifted as Malagan then pricked it there with the dagger. “--are my prisoner. I hold your fate in my hands.”

A look of hatred came to Kaeev’s face, accented by the fresh blood that was beginning to trickle from his chin as Malagan kept the dagger there. The knight only grinned wickedly in reply. He looked back at the night elves behind him, saying something in Darnassian to them before he gave a mocking laugh. They all laughed with him at Kaeev in return.

One of Kaeev’s legs began to pull in, like he was getting ready to kick with it. With a smirk still on his face and with a dangerous tone of voice, Malagan said, “I wouldn’t do that, cow. Besides, I don’t want you dead yet. I still want answers before I do you in or ship you off to Stormwind. So let’s try again, hm?”

The dagger lowered from the shaman’s bleeding chin, and he was able to relax a little at this. “Do you have a name, cow?” questioned Malagan.

The shaman bared his teeth. “I am Kaeevanrash of the Stormspeakers!” he answered in a show of defiance. “And you waste your time, human. I will tell you nothing!”

Malagan frowned only briefly, and turned away from the shaman. “I see,” he said. He then chuckled. “That’s all right, cow. That just means you’ll make this a lot more FUN!”

As Malagan spake these words, he whirled around suddenly and dealt Kaeev a harsh blow to the head again with the butt of the dagger. Kaeev’s sight went dark, and as his face hit the dirt, he lost his inward battle with his nausea right before also losing consciousness.

(('Present' in this story refers to the time in which the story began, not present time in-game. Thought I would clarify that.))

In the present...

Thanks to his fatigue, Kaeev slept rather soundly in his hiding place. In the dim light of Mu’sha, his consciousness returned at the sensation of something cold and moist prodding his arm. He awoke with a start, causing the visitor to shift backward suddenly with a startled yip. The blurry gray shape growled at him, and the shaman had to blink hard a few times to focus his vision on what he was seeing.

There in front of him was a silvery-white wolf. He stared at it in surprise, while it retained a tense stance with its fur standing up. When it saw for a time that Kaeev was making no sudden or threatening movements, it relaxed a little. The wolf’s fur settled as it paced back and forth with a slow and enthralling grace, the searching gaze of its matching eyes seldom straying from the shaman as it did this. Its coat glowed with a soft, eerie luster as the light of Mu’sha in her fulness leaked through the forest canopy.

Kaeev was fascinated by the beauty of this creature. He had only heard of these beasts before; many referred to them as ‘Ghostpaws’. He then spoke in his own mind and in his native tongue. Though he did not speak aloud, Kaeev hoped that somehow the wolf might understand. He took heart as the wolf’s ears pricked at his words. Please, he said, can you help me?

********

The wolf simply stared for a time, while Kaeev only stared back, saying no more and inwardly hoping that the wolf might discern his plight and find some way to assist. It did nothing. Instead, it slowly turned and went its way, occasionally glancing back at the shaman. Kaeev watched in daunted silence as it departed, his face coming to rest a bit hard on the earth as he again brooded on his situation, and gradually drifted back to sleep.

He awoke again as something soft hit his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open and had to focus again. Mu’sha’s light was now blocked by large clouds that rumbled softly overhead. By his shoulder was a slain rabbit. He looked back and forth between it and the small window he had into the heavens. As his gaze fell, he could see that same Ghostpaw again. Their eyes met only briefly before the wolf skittered out of sight, but it was long enough for the shaman to sense the wolf wanted him to follow. He then began to hear the patter of rain on foliage.

He looked at the dead rabbit. It was a small meal, but it would have to do. If the rain were to increase enough, he thought, it might mask the sound of his movements. Thank you, he then thought, and not just to the Ghostpaw.

********

Kaeev made his way through the brush alongside the road as the rain came down in what sounded like torrents. There were not many places where he felt actual raindrops fall on him unhindered. The canopy was thick enough to the point that most of the rainwater flowed down off of great tree trunks, or formed natural fountains as they trickled off branches and large leaves. He took full advantage of the rain, quenching his thirst on said fountains as he passed them, the sound of his own movements muffled. The more he drank, the more his physical pain and fatigue subsided. His physical pains and burdens dissipated almost entirely. The only thing really left to get rid of was the heavy, broken shackles on his wrists.

So renewed felt the shaman, that he almost forgot the need to keep the sound of his movements down, even with the rain. His daydream at the prospect of freedom ended abruptly when he suddenly spotted something in the road ahead from his vantage point.

It was that Ghostpaw wolf again, and it was looking right at him. There was almost a glare to its gaze as Kaeev stared back, entranced once again by the creature. Only moments later, the rain stopped suddenly, and the noise masking the shaman’s movements faded quickly.

Wait, said Kaeev in his mind as the wolf then turned and ran off into the woods again. The shaman was about to step out onto the road and follow the beast when he heard a shout in Darnassian and froze. He knew the voice: it was Malagan.

The shaman quietly withdrew back into the foliage, and waited for a few tense moments as he thought maybe he had been spotted. Through the mists, Kaeev could just barely make out the tower at Maestra’s Post. He could hear the human shouting what sounded like commands, and he shut his eyes and thought an incantation.

The shouts became strange echoes as he remained in hiding, while his vision stole down the road toward the post. There was a fog all along the way, but not dense enough to obscure his view completely. The same party of night elves that had been pursuing him was there, armed with bows ready to fire at Malagan’s signal, spread out all throughout the post and the surrounding vicinity. As his vision looked around, he could see no clear path through or around the post, nor any sign of the Ghostpaw he saw in the road.

A feeling of hatred kindled again within the shaman. It felt as if none of this journey back to Splintertree Post was going to be easy. It was clearly evident in whatever commands the human was shouting. He didn’t have to understand them. He knew they were waiting for him. For an instant, his vision met Malagan’s gaze before it returned to his place by the road, hidden away in the trees.

He tensed as Malagan’s voice echoed up the road to him in Taurahe. “I know you’re out there, shaman!” bellowed the knight. “There are sentinels blocking every way, you’ve got no way through. Come out!”

Kaeev clenched a fist and his mane bristled at the next words: “I should have shackled a bell around your neck. It suits your kind!”

The shaman almost shouted back a retort, but he refrained as he quickly realized the insult was nothing more than a bait to betray his position. He looked around as he thought there had to be some way he could slip by.

An impression came on what to do. Kaeev swallowed hard, hesitant at the idea. It did not sound easy in the least, but it just might work. He looked around again as he began to chant a call in his mind, Malagan’s continuing insults falling on deaf ears.

As the shaman chanted, his heart began to quicken as he stepped out onto the road. The runoff from the rain rose in a mist that made the existing fog become more and more dense by the second. He crept down the road, the fog becoming so thick that it could be felt and he could only see a few paces in front of himself. Malagan’s insults had ceased, and the shaman could hear him commanding the night elves again.

Another impression came, and he stopped and looked at the ground by his hooves and spied a loose rock. His heart began to pound as he picked up the rock and grasped it tightly, acting on the impression.

Spirits, guide my aim, hasten my step, and show me the path, he prayed in his mind. Gauging by the vision he had of the camp, he hurled the rock into the void, in what he believed to be the direction to the closest structure in the post.

His fists clenched, his throat began to close, and he held his breath as his whole frame began to tremble. His own throbbing heart was the only sound he could hear while he waited with terrible anxiety.

Thunk!

At the sound, the shaman ran through the mist with a fear and a determination that combined for a speed that was both reckless and uncanny. He heard the angry hiss of a volley of arrows right as he began. The stone, however, had the effect he hoped it would: it drew the sentinels’ fire, buying a small window of time for him to gain some ground while they prepared to fire again. He could hear faint shouts of the night elves and Malagan, just barely over his own breath and heart. Confusion had ensued, the thickness of the fog making aim more difficult for arrows. This was evident in the erratic hisses of arrows he could hear faintly, few of which sounding like they came close as he bounded through the post.

He heard Malagan shout something--more Darnassian--and the hissing stopped. At another shout, Kaeev instinctively skidded to a halt. One arrow came straight his way but missed, though narrowly. The remaining arrows went across the path in front of him from the left and the right, converging for a moment where he likely would have been had he not stopped. He hopped off his forward hoof before coming to a complete stop and started again, running as fast as he could. There was no random fire this time. He knew another volley was imminent. At the same moment the next shout came, a night elf with his bow drawn taut materialized out of the fog in front of Kaeev, aiming right at him.

This time, the shaman skidded into a slide tackle at the night elf. It was easy to do this, as the ground had been dampened by the rain and runoff. The arrow shot harmlessly overhead. The sentinel gave a shout of pain as Kaeev crashed into his legs, dropping his bow as he fell onto the shaman. Oddly enough, the shaman very well might have saved him as the remainder of the volley went over them both, with the odd arrow or two landing close. Not about to wait for a show of gratitude, Kaeev gave the night elf a hefty shove off himself as he scrambled back upright and spied the sentinel’s bow lying on the ground. It made a ‘snap’ and a ‘twang’ sound as the shaman deliberately stepped on it as he began his run again.

The path began to go uphill, but Kaeev pressed on undeterred. More shouts--mostly from Malagan--could be heard again, but they sounded more frustrated and angry, and were becoming increasingly distant. There was only the occasional hiss of an arrow as Kaeev went quickly uphill, but none of these sounded as though they came that close. The path eventually leveled out, and the shaman looked behind him as he kept running. He actually laughed a little, mostly out of astonishment that the whole plan worked and he made it through unscathed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that he had broken out of the fog.

...and as he turned his head to look forward, his laugh then went to a sharp gasp as the sensation of earth under his hooves suddenly vanished. His momentum and brief distraction had sent him careening off a bluff into space.

Kaeev’s heart and stomach both went into knots as he fell and plunged awkwardly into a pond that had swelled with the rain. It was surprisingly deep, enough to break his fall, but the impact forced out what air was left in his lungs. Panic quickly set in, and the ability to swim briefly forgotten as the water, fatigue and the weight of his shackles all threatened to smother him. He scrambled to the surface, breaking through with another sharp gasp. He made his way forward slowly and noisily until he felt his hooves touch the bottom. Sloshing clumsily to the opposite edge of the pond in a daze, he coughed and spat up water, almost stumbling headfirst into the exposed root of a great tree. Getting on the other side of it, he wedged himself into a niche between some more roots before collapsing.

The shaman could not keep quiet. He had to breathe, and after a run and a fall like that, he could not do so silently, even without coughing. He could hear the Darnassian voices again behind him up on the bluff, which was still fogged over. Whether or not they could hear him, he did not know, but he knew he could not hide here.

Something else, however, crossed the shaman’s mind that induced another flash of panic. He quickly stood and dug into the one pocket on the pants he wore and pulled forth a parchment that had been folded many times, and was now soaked. He unfolded it quickly and haphazardly. The parchment, thankfully, was a more sturdy type made to withstand a little water and, much to the shaman’s relief, the ink written on it had only bled slightly. It was still legible. He leaned against one of the roots, his limbs quivering from the exertion as he carefully put it away in his pocket, and slumped back down again.

..Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kaeev saw movement up the hill ahead of him.

At its crest stood that Ghostpaw wolf. But this time, the instant their eyes met, it turned and ran off out of sight. Wait, said Kaeev in his mind again, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from shouting it aloud. He quickly stood up but almost fell again as his legs buckled from exhaustion. Throwing caution to the winds, he pulled himself out from the niche, stumbling on all fours for a few paces before he was able to trot proper up the hill after the wolf. Wait! Stop! he said again, desperation in his mental voice. When he crested the hill himself, he beheld a small clearing, the wolf far off at the opposite end and still running.

Kaeev had to follow that Ghostpaw. He had no idea how he was going to keep up at the the rate their gap was widening, but he knew he must. Perhaps it was delirium masking the futility of this resolve, but he did not seem to care. He wasn’t even thinking of the possibility that night elves could be lying in wait nearby; he plod on anyway, even as the Ghostpaw was becoming more and more of a speck in the distance.

...But as the shaman reached the edge of that clearing, which opened up into a much larger clearing, a strange thing began to occur. The feeling that his legs could give out on him at any moment, faded away. The weight of the shackles on his arms felt lighter. He felt his chest heaving less with his breaths as he continued to run. And the wolf was getting closer, even though it never seemed to flag in its own run.

Thinking he was on a second wind, Kaeev kept running, and continued to close the gap as the clearing narrowed. He then heard howling on both sides of him, and looked both ways as he ran. The shaman was flanked by two more Ghostpaws like the first. They were both some distance from him, but were doubtless running parallel to him.

The shaman could only gape in astonishment. What was happening just didn’t seem real. Was this some sort of dream?

The first Ghostpaw had stopped at the edge of another pond ahead, and two more had joined it in addition to the two that were running with Kaeev. Kaeev stopped some distance away from the waters while the rest went ahead of him and began to drink up without hesitation. He waited there, watching the small pack with disbelief.

Each of the Ghostpaws, save for the first that Kaeev had met several times, eyed him curiously after they had their fill of the water. He tensed as they slowly approached him one by one. But, as they drew near, one by one they merely nudged him on the muzzle with their own, or licked him in the face as a friendly gesture.

Kaeev was silent, even in his mind as he watched them rejoin the first wolf slowly, one by one, by the pond’s edge. The first was then motioning with his head from Kaeev to the water. The shaman understood; he was thirsty, but he still approached a bit nervously.

He felt no urge to cup his hands to drink. Instead, he just thrust his face into the waters and drank. He tensed again and looked up at the pack as they howled, as if in approval.

For what felt like the first time in a long time, Kaeev felt relaxed. He felt safe, the dangers of just moments earlier all forgotten. The pack all then began to run further ahead, but Kaeev remained at the pond. Hold on, let me drink just a little more, he thought as he put his head in the waters and drank again.

He breathed a sigh of satisfaction as he drew his head back, shaking loose droplets from his face. Then, he took a look at his distorted reflection, and blinked in confusion as it settled.

The face of a wolf was what was staring back at him.

Kaeev jumped back and made as if to shout in alarm, but no words were uttered, only a frightened yip. Instinctively with this failed attempt at verbal speech, his hands--or, at least, what he thought would be hands--went to his neck, but he only felt the leathery press of paw pads and the scratching of blunt claws against his throat. Moreover, he was not prepared for the abrupt loss of balance brought on by this reflex and toppled over on his side.

It was all making sense now--why the weight of the shackles and fatigue almost completely disappeared, why he managed to keep up with the Ghostpaw, or gain the distance he did without being detected by the enemy.

But this...this manner of safety was far more than the shaman bargained for. The ‘dream’ was quickly becoming a nightmare. Reason, gratitude and thoughts of security were all crowded out of the shaman’s mind as panic invaded once again.

What...what have you done to me!? he shouted in his mind and attempted to shout out loud again as he got back on his “paws” and looked around frantically, his companions nowhere to be seen. The attempt was doubly futile; not only did it come out as a pained howl, but even that went without answer, even from other wolves. Turn me back, he pled in his mind, producing a sorrowful whine to match.

There was one physical trait of note that did persist in this new form of Kaeev’s, but it brought him no peace. His eyes were constantly being blinded by hot tears as he took off in an easterly direction, following some desperate hope that the wolves might have departed that way.

A day ago, in the morning...

Kaeev awoke slowly with a terrible thirst. The lingering taste of bile in the back of his mouth only made it worse. Memory of where he was along with his surroundings quickly registered in his mind again. He was still chained to this stone wall in the midst of a night elf encampment. From where he lay, he could see little more than the night elves that guarded him, or a few that happened to pass in front of where he was being held.

Hopes of escaping slowly came to him, but he wondered how it would be possible like this. He could not see much beyond his sentries. Unless...

The shaman shut his eyes, feigning sleep while he began a call in his mind. It took only a simple plea before he had, in his mind, a hazy image of what he saw with his eyes just moments ago.

His vision went forward, slowly passing the unsuspecting guards and going out into the open of the camp. Tents were scattered around, and a significant number of night elves, many with nightsabers, were standing guard at the camp’s fringes or patrolling the area. Some of the large felines walked beside their masters, while others served as the mount for them. There wasn’t one kaldorei that wasn’t armed and/or accompanied by one of these great beasts. The vision did not look promising.

Nevertheless, Kaeev’s view continued to drift until he spotted a larger, more elaborate tent pitched some distance away. The shaman stretched his neck forward a little as if reaching for it, and his vision went toward it in turn.

Parting the canvas that blocked any view inside, his vision went into the tent. There were two figures inside, one with his back turned to the shaman’s vision and speaking to the night elf across from him as they overlooked something spread out on the table.

Several things then happened at once. The shaman caught a glimpse of what was on the table, and he almost flinched as hope took hold in his heart.

...which was quickly dispelled as the figure turned. Malagan appeared to look right at Kaeev before the shaman’s vision ended abruptly.

Kaeev’s eyes only shut tighter as he remained still and silent. To his inward dismay, he could hear the human approaching, and he relaxed his eyes in hopes the human would think the shaman was only sleeping. It took all the self-restraint he could muster to not tense as he could hear Malagan stop within just paces of him. It was as if the human knew he was being watched. How could he have known? Just who was this man?

“Wake up,” snapped Malagan, rousing Kaeev with a vicious kick to the gut, a foul-mood look on his face. As Kaeev reeled from the blow, he felt the spit of the human land on the side of his head. “Think you’re crafty, cow? You aren’t fooling me!” He then shouted something in Darnassian so that all could hear. Kaeev could not understand the actual words, but judging by the many scowls it brought him, he could guess the human was exposing his intrigue.

“I ought to kill you now,” spoke Malagan to Kaeev again like he really did want to kill the shaman, yet was reluctant. His tone then went sinister. “..but I have a better idea. I never did get the information I wanted from you. And I have a little something I’ve been saving that should help me do just that.”

From within the folds of his cloak, Malagan drew forth a strange instrument. It had a wand-like appearance to it, golden in color and crooked in form. It did not appear sharp, but it had a faint, white glow about it that gave off an ominous crackling or buzzing sound.

Kaeev had not seen such an instrument before and, by the look on the faces of most of the night elves that watched, neither had they. The shaman did not have much time to study it before Malagan, without warning, jammed it into the shaman’s shoulder.

The shaman’s vision went blank; the pain was that immense. His whole body, inside and out, felt like it had come aflame. He heard himself scream distantly, as if it was not himself. He came to momentarily, twisting helplessly in agony even as the pain subsided, and Malagan withdrew a pace. The human eyed the curious instrument, almost playing with it while he spoke with complete indifference to Kaeev’s suffering.

“I hear it’s called a ‘neural needler’,” he said, still speaking the shaman’s native language. He added in passing, “Someone in Dalaran created it, supposedly. Odds are we’ll never know for sure, with what happened to that place. I like it, though.”

Kaeev had no idea what the human was talking about, and he didn’t care. He still trembled from the pain that was still lingering, biting his lip nearly to the point of drawing blood as he saw Malagan brandish the ‘needler’ again. His vision was blurring from tears. Por Ah help me, he cried in his mind.

“So, I’ll ask you again, scum,” spoke Malagan, that virulent tone of voice returning. “What were you plotting out in these woods? Your lot didn’t look at all prepared for a fight, so a fight clearly was not what you wanted. What was it?”

Kaeev did not answer. He only curled up tighter, as if that might lessen the pain.

“Tell me!” shouted Malagan as Kaeev felt the needler jab in his back, and the human’s words, along with his own scream, briefly became an echo. The shaman felt himself get up on his hooves and flail blindly like one possessed as the needler’s terrible effect returned immediately. All of the chains that bound him went taut and strained from his exertion.

...Something else also happened. As the shaman screamed, there was distant thunder overhead as clouds gathered, and the earth trembled slightly.

Malagan stumbled backward from a momentary loss of balance as Kaeev collapsed again, looking up as he noted both the thunder and the quaking. Through his blurred vision, the shaman noticed that the human looked briefly confused. Kaeev also saw that some night elves had been watching. Some had turned away as this torture began, but the eyes of those that tarried were following Malagan’s gaze. Fear could be seen in them. One of the night elves, the same one Kaeev had seen in the tent with Malagan earlier, after regaining his own balance, approached the man and spoke to him urgently in Darnassian, pointing a finger at the needler, and then gesturing with a hand to the earth, then the sky, and then to Kaeev, shaking his head.

Malagan only became angry and shoved the night elf away, snapping something back in the same language. He then turned back on Kaeev. “They hear you, don’t they, shaman?” he said, speaking in Taurahe again with a slight grin creeping onto his face as he snickered maliciously. He motioned with his head upward. “The elements hear you in pain, and they are pained also. I think they want me to stop.” As he spoke, he drew near again, the light movements of his hand making the needler stray close to Kaeev. The shaman scrambled away from it like some frightened animal. “No. Stop. Keep that thing away from me!!” he exclaimed as he backed up against the stone wall to which he was chained.

“Why?” laughed Malagan as he only came closer, deliberately not quite letting the needler touch Kaeev’s face so he could watch with amusement as the shaman squirmed to avoid its excruciating touch. He only laughed more as he continued. “This is the sort of fun I was looking forward to. Just look at you. A soldier of the Horde, a shaman of the so-called ‘children of the Earth Mother’. Reduced to this.”

The needler came to a stop just beneath Kaeev’s chin, and he froze, daring not to move any further lest it touch him. “End your pain,” persisted Malagan, “and theirs. Tell me what that lot of ragtag scum called the Horde is doing sending mongrels like you out to spy on us?”

Kaeev lifted his chin a little as the needler raised, but gave no answer. “Even your so-called ‘Spirits’ want you to answer,” said Malagan in an oddly alluring tone as he locked eyes with the shaman in a piercing gaze.

Kaeev then began to feel a little strange. As Malagan spoke, the sound thereof felt like it was seeping into his mind, enough that he heard the words clearly therein, as well as in his ears.

“They’re begging, just like you beg me to stop. They won’t help you.”

For a moment, Kaeev almost believed the man. He knew he had not been very faithful to his calling these past four months. Maybe, he thought, had he been more devoted, he would have been spared this awful predicament completely. That’s what this all was: a punishment. A punishment that would end if he would just tell Malagan what he wanted to know. Yes, it could end, if he would just...

“...No!!” exclaimed Kaeev suddenly, snapping out of the hypnotic trance. His mind cleared, the poisonous thoughts fleeing away. “You lie!!” he shouted in defiance.

Malagan’s countenance took a furious turn at this failed attempt, and the shaman felt the blunt thrust of the needler in his ribs. His agonized cry reverberated through the surrounding land as waves of awful pain rippled through his whole body.

And as if it was Kaeev’s cry that caused it, the air and earth both rippled also with thunder and trembling. The shaman was not fully conscious of all that was happening, but had he been, he would have seen the terror in the eyes of the night elves. They beheld the tauren stand and begin thrashing, struggling to break free of the taut chains and keeping his balance, despite the quaking. They beheld lightning from the heavens repeatedly striking and coursing through the shaman’s body, to no harm to him. They beheld their commander turn to get to a safer distance, reaching it by being sent sprawling by the tempestuous force. They beheld the wall to which Kaeev was chained begin to crack under the trembling and strain. They beheld him try to step forward, each step shaking the earth and warping the shackles on his hooves until they finally broke. Then, with one last thrash of the arms, the chains that bound him shattered, leaving only the large cuffs on his wrists. With nothing holding him to the wall any longer, this last effort made the shaman stumble forward and fall on his hands. With the thunder’s last word still echoing in the distance, the lightning and quaking then ceased.

Kaeev got up, one hand on his forehead as his vision returned and his disorientation faded. Unaware of what had just happened, surprise and astonishment came to his face as he felt that his legs were no longer burdened by the weight of shackles. He looked at his arms, finding only the cuffs remaining on his hands. He was not chained anymore. He was free. His prayer had been heard.

Free maybe, but he was far from safe. Night elves were all around, though both they and the camp were in complete disarray from the lightning and the quaking. Kaeev’s eyes fell upon the nearest of them who, upon locking eyes with him, grew terrified with a look on their face as if death was imminent.

But death was not what Kaeev gave him. The tauren frowned and merely shook his head at him, as if in apology. He felt no hate for the night elf or his people, knowing that many of them were people just like him, part of a cause that they felt was right. He was on their land and he knew it.

Malagan groaned as he sat up, rubbing his forehead for a minute before looking up just in time to see Kaeev go running past him. The tauren didn’t even look at him. Following him with his gaze, the human saw Kaeev going straight for their largest tent, which still stood but rather haphazardly.

“Stop him,” whispered the human in Darnassian, a whisper which grew to a shout. “Stop him, he’s escaping!!” Seeing the tauren disappear inside, he scrambled on the ground frantically in search for the neural needler that he seemed to have misplaced. After what he just witnessed, there was no way he was going to face the shaman without it.

Sure enough, just as he had seen earlier, Kaeev saw the parchment resting on the table. This time, however, it was completely unguarded. He looked it over briefly, taking heart as his real eyes confirmed what he saw in his vision. He promptly yanked it off the table, folding it up rather sloppily but enough times that it might be small enough to fit in the one pocket he had. He was not leaving without this parchment, for he knew it was his best chance to salvage this mission gone horribly wrong. If he died trying--for so he reasoned in his mind--he did so honorably, and his family’s debt would be paid indeed.

“Not so fast, cow!!” shouted Malagan angrily as he burst into the teetering tent, brandishing the needler he had found again. His insult was answered with a roar from Kaeev, who with a quick sweep of the hands threw the table at him like it was nothing. Malagan narrowly avoided it with a duck and stood as the table crashed into the tent wall behind him. He began to advance on Kaeev, when a few loud ‘snaps’ caused them to look up at the tent ceiling. Tipped by the thrown table’s force, the tent had lost the last of its support, and it promptly fell on them both.

Kaeev emerged first from the ruined tent unscathed, and quickly looked around. There was a gently sloping path some distance ahead. He did not know which way it led, but it did not matter to him. His chance at life and freedom wasn’t getting any better.

Bowling over one night elf and ducking to avoid an arrow from another, the shaman just ran down the path, not daring to look back. Malagan’s angry, muffled cries only urged him to run faster.

Presently...

The shaman awoke with a start in his improvised hiding place, a small depression dug under and between some bushes at the base of one of the larger trees. Whether it was insects or the vegetation (or perhaps both), Kaeev felt as though he itched all over his body. And to his dismay, he found that he was still a wolf, having to resort to rolling around in the dirt in an effort to allay the maddening sensation.

The rolling helped, but now the stench of decaying foliage was assaulting his senses, for he had unwittingly rolled in some of that as well. He sneezed multiple times, pawing at his nose as he stumbled out of hiding. Now fully awake with his nose flaring, he looked around, and then upward. By the brightness of the light making its way through the canopy, he could tell that it was morning again, two full days since his escape.

He leveled his gaze, looking around again with his ears wilting in distress. He had found none of the Ghostpaws from the previous night, and none were to be seen now. He tried a howl for help, producing a rather piteous one that echoed a threatening despair. He listened for what felt like a long time, and heard no answer.

Nevertheless, the shaman trudged onward, continuing his journey eastward. Logic told him that there had to be a purpose in being left in this form, for he had had multiple confirmations that the Earth Mother and the Spirits had been helping him in his escape. He had been calling upon them for aid, and they were answering. If this was the case, why would they turn their backs on him now?

The mental aspect of this ordeal, at times, was proving to be nearly as difficult for Kaeev as the physical aspect was. The thoughts or feelings of shame, of being lost, abandoned or punished, were relentless. Logic, however, told him that he was not forgotten. Logic gave him hope, and hope prevailed for now.

Awesssome ssstory, yesss!