While most Forsaken were humans, this doesn’t seem to be the case for this newly risen undead night elf.
Her expression is usually friendly, but the scars crisscrossing her features and her off-centered nose say otherwise. Her voice is rough, but not entirely unpleasant- perhaps she could even carry a tune, though it has an unmistakable bark of command to it. She looks to be in her late thirties, perhaps early forties. Her hair is a grungy off-white and kept short and out of the way with little care for its appearance. She keeps a military posture and probably wouldn’t be caught dead slouching, her broad shoulders always squared and her chin up.
Being inevitably dead, her skin is weathered blood-deprived blue and her eyes glow with a harsh ghostlight. As far as decay goes, she is severely lacking in it.
Having turned her back on her former people and after many months of work, she’s become into something of a genius with the arcane, crafting and flowing magic as easily as a living person breathes.
She wears the cloth armor of her new-found profession, but she looks about as comfortable in it as an orc warlock in a robe.
--------
The first traces of dawn were creeping over the desert. A glimmer of light on the undersides of towering clouds and a faint glimmer on the sands. It meant that they'd been running all night, her and her brother, Oben. But now they had no where to run.
They were damn clever, these silithid. Clever and quick and deadly. Ambushed their scouting party at the point when they'd be farthest away from the main encampment, then herded 'em like elk to the edge of these cliffs, pickin' off the stragglers. Now it was only her and Oben left.
He frowned at the rising sun. “Almost time. Soon they will be here.”
Kinu smiled fiercely. Let them come. She looked out across the terrain as she tightened the straps of her quiver around her chest, pulled the buckle on her sword-belt one notch further, dragged on her archery guards and worked her fingers, twanged at her bow-string, everything neat, and quick, and ready for violence. While she prepared for the fight that would most likely be the death of them both, her golden eyes shined in the half light with excitement. Her brother caught the look and laughed at her.
“Fearlessness is a stupid man's claim, Falore.”
She just snorted at him. “Let's get into position.”
Kinu knelt beside one of the pitted stones, glad to have some cover even if it was the dead end that was keeping them trapped here. She had her bow in one hand, an arrow nocked and ready. The wind made patterns in the sand on the desert below, whipped the heavy dunes in the distance, plucked at the flights of the seven arrows stuck into the earth in front of her in a row. Seven arrows was all she had left.
Nothing like enough.
She watched them scuttle up to the base of the hill, moving over the sand like it was good hard earth instead of the fickle sinking substance she had come to hate. She watched them move tirelessly, always ready for combat. Pincers, fangs, claws, a few of them had stingers. She counted them. Thirteen. Only a small party.
But that wasn't much comfort.
Part of her itched to shoot them now, but there was no point risking a shot at this range. They would be coming soon. Crossing the open ground, moving uphill.
She could shoot them then.
They began to spread out, peering up at the stones as they chattered to one another. They had not seen her yet. They moved without caution.
She drew the string back, unhurried, felt it dig reassuringly into her chin. The arrow took one of the worms in the center of its forehead, right through its shell. It gave a shriek and fell to the sand, thrashing around for a moment before it pushed itself and lurched a step forward. Her second arrow stuck into its body just above the first and it fell again, dribbled bloody saliva onto the hillside, then rolled onto its back.
But there were plenty more, and still coming on.
They knew her position now, and the ones bound to the earth struggled to reach her, but two of the twelve had wings, and that meant trouble for her. She curled her lip back and let it get a good look at her teeth as the wasp like silithid buzzed angrily at her, its stinger dripping with venom. Her arrow caught it through the wing and it let out a high pitched shriek as it flailed about. Her second shot missed but her next shaft arced through the air and caught it cleanly through the neck. Blood bubbled down its skin and it toppled backwards, twitching about for a moment, leaking blood all over the sand before it was still. But it had taken far too long, and too many shafts. The rest of the silithid were well up the hillside now, halfway to the first stones, zig-zagging left and right. To try and hit them would be a waste of her last two arrows. She would have to wait. Oben was on his own for now.
Oben waited, his back pressed against the stone, trying to keep his breathing quiet. He watched Kinu, who was looking frusterated and angrier then usual, which probably meant she couldn't kill anything. It would be a lie to say that he was calm, but he was feeling fairly relaxed about the whole situation. He was confident in his own skills and his sister's, and they would probably make it through this scrape as well.
Probably.
He heard one of the silithid skittering up the hill, just to the left of the stone. Oben held his axe by his right side, fingered the hard metal of the grip, clenched his jaws together. He saw the antenna of a scarab like silithid wobble past, then the rest of it.
Oben stepped out with a fighting roar, swinging the axe round in a great wide circle. It chopped into the silithid's shoulder and opened a huge gash across its face as it unwittingly turned to face him. Blood sprayed into the air, splattering across him as the silithid thrashed around, lunging towards him. He sidestepped, and the silithid lurched a few steps before collapsing, blood gurgling from the wound. Oben panted as he sprinted away up the slope and behind the next stone. He peered round the edge and saw quick shapes, rushing from rock to rock. He licked his lips and hefted his axe. There was blood on the shining silver blade now. But there was much more work to do.
It came up the hillside towards her, crawling along with its wings folded right up tight near its body and skittering in a way so it only exposed its hard outer shell. No way to pierce its soft underside from here, it was watching too hard.
She ducked away behind the stone and slipped into a shallow trench she'd scouted out last night, and started crawling. She came up to the far end, just behind another great rock. She edged round behind it and peered out. She could see it, its side to her, creeping up carefully towards the stone where she had been hiding. It seemed Elune was feeling generous today.
The shaft buried itself in its underside, between two of its legs. It stumbled and stared down at it and squawked. She pulled out her last arrow and nocked it. It twisted about and exposed its underside as it was trying to pull out the first arrow when the second one stuck it in the center of its underside. It let out a weak hiss and toppled over.
The arrows were gone. Kinu slung her bow back over her shoulder and drew hew sword.
It was time to get close.
Oben stepped around one of the stones and found himself looking straight into a face, close enough almost to feel its breath on his cheek. It wasn't a pretty face. Insectoid, with pincers that snapped viciously once it got over the surprise. But Oben was faster. He called out a spell and Elune's magic flowed through him and he burnt it with Moonfire. The face snapped back and it stumbled long enough for Oben to pull his knife from his belt with his left hand. He let go of his sword, grabbed the silithids antenna and yanked its head down. It snarled and thrashed with its pincers, trying to tear him in half.
Oben grunted as he stabbed the knife up into the bottom of its head. Once, twice, three times. Hard, fast underhand thrusts. Blood leaked out from the holes in its insides and over Oben's hands and he bit back a curse as it burned them. The silithid pulled away and staggered back a few feet, sagging backwards and staring up at him reproachfully.
“Guh,” It grunted, “Gurrsh”
“What?”
Nothing else. Its eerie eyes were dull.
“Watch out!” Screamed Kinu as she ran towards her brother, running as though she were on flat ground. Stupid git, didn't see the silithid sneaking up on him until she called out. She saw him start and turn but he could never react in time, in the middle of a healing spell like he was. His hands were burned.
She roared in anger and leapt off the rock she'd been perching on, landing on the creatures back. It flailed about, but she hung on tightly, thrusting the sword into the weak point of its plate like shell- between its head and the rest of its body. Blood spurted from the wound as she stabbed her sword into it again and again, trying to hang on despite the slippery lifeblood leaking from the insect. It gave a great shrug and she cursed, sliding off as it twitched and spasmed as it died in a pool of its own black blood.
“You should be more c-” Something moved in the very corner of her eye and Oben cried out.
There was a mighty crunching and her head exploded with brilliant light.
Then all was darkness.
She tried to scream but nothing came out. It was dark, her head swarm. There was a hideous tugging, an unbearable pulling at her mouth. “What are you doing?!” She bellowed, but she only heard a sort of wheezing.
“Got it,” said a voice. The agonizing pressure released.
“How bad is it?”
“Not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks very bad.”
“Silence, please- and hold that torch higher.”
“What's that?”
“What?”
“That there, sticking out?”
“Her jaw- what do you think it is?”
“I think I'm going to be ill. Please, if you'd just let me heal it-”
“You'd kill yourself using the energies. You're too weak right now- now hold that torch up! We'll have to push it back in.” Kinu felt something pressing on her face, hard. There was a cracking sound and an unbearable lance of pain stabbed through her jaw and into her neck, like nothing she had ever felt before. She sagged back.
“I'll hold it, you move that.”
“What, this?”
“Don't pull her teeth out!”
“It just fell out by itself!”
“Fool!”
“What's happening?” Said Kinu. But all that came out was a kind of gurgle. Her head was throbbing, pulsing, splitting with pain.
“She's waking up now!”
“You stitch then, I'll hold her.” There was a pressure around her shoulders, across her chest, folding her tight. Her arm hurt. Hurt terribly. She tried to kick but her leg was agony, she couldn't move it.
“You got her?”
“Yes I've got her! Get stitching.”
Something stabbed into her face. She had not thought the pain could grow any worse. How wrong she had been.
“Get off me!” She cried, but all she heard was, “thugh.”
She struggled, tried to wriggle free, but she was held tight, and it only made her arm hurt more. The pain in her face got worse. Her upper lip, her lower lip, her chin, her cheek. She snarled and growled, but heard nothing. Only a quiet wheezing. When she thought her head would surely explode, the pain grew suddenly less.
“Done.”
The grip was released and she lay back, floppy as a rag, helpless. Something turned her head. “That's good stitching. That's excellent. You've quite a talent for the healing arts.”
“Well, when you live with her long enough...”
“Mmm, I'm sure. Best to get started on her arm, then. Then there's her leg to set.”
“Where did you put those braces?”
“No,” groaned Kinu, “Please.” Nothing but a click in her throat.
She could see something now, blurry shapes in the half light. A face loomed towards her, a surprisingly handsome face. Strange eyes with pupils, a bronze undertone to his skin, but long elven ears and dark hair. There was a pale face, just behind it, a face she recognized as her brother's. She closed her eyes. Even the light seemed painful.
“You're safe, now.” The unfamiliar voice of the stranger said.
Kinu lay there, her face a mass of agony, and dearly wished she could kick this handsome stranger in the face.
If this was safe, she'd rather be back out there fighting the silithid.
---
When I climbed off the bat, I was perhaps mildly thankful for my undeath, feeling none of the soreness I would feel if I were still alive for such a long flight. All I felt was restlessness and a desire to get this business over with and head back home.
My undead steed- Noodle- was back at the stables in Brill, so I walked, enjoying the vague shadow of a feeling I got from inhaling the crisp air of Hillsbrad. A pack rested across my shoulders but it was barely full (a bedroll and some other basic supplies- undead didn't need much), and I made good time to the base that led to the Alterac Valley, where the Horde and Alliance battled in the bitter cold.
The outpost was fairly tiny. A few guards sent over from Tarren Mill stood at the ready, mingling amongst the Frostwolf Orcs. Several merchants were there as well, selling useful items like potions and bandages. A goblin from Smokeywood Pastures advertised his wares as a wagon full of supplies for the Frostwolf Soldiers squeaked by.
“And rogue... Die with honor!” Warmaster Laggrond stuck an intimidating figure, and the Sin'Dorei rogue he was speaking to paled a bit at those words before walking off. I sighed and walked up to him.
“It is good to see you again, whelp.” He greeted me with a tusked grin, “Come to actually fight in the Valley?” I returned his grin with one of my own, “No, actually. I've come to tell you that no, I will not be fighting in the valley.
I will patch up your hurt and bring you resources, but I will not directly fight the Alliance.” Warmaster Laggrond sorted, looking disappointed. My reluctance to fight Alliance soldiers was considered something of an oddity amongst the Horde, my reputation as a Peacewalker even more bizarre.
“Well, whelp, there's nothing I can do to make that official. You'll have to speak to one of the Commanders inside the Valley.” I let out an annoyed sigh and bit back the impulse to grit my teeth. Into the Valley? I was planning this journey to be a few days, at most. Going into Alterac Valley would me I would be away from home for a week, at least.
The Warmaster shrugged carelessly and I could detect an air of smugness about him. Scowling I turned and headed for the long path that would bring me to the snowy valley of Alterac, where I could finally settle this mess...
A few hours later and snow crunched under my feet as I finally stepped out into the open. I only glanced back once towards the tunnel and the guards stationed in it before I headed towards Frostwolf Keep. It was starting to get dark but I could see just fine in the dark. My feet did not sink into the snow, but the Keep was large, and it took some time to get around to the crowded gate. It was evening and the fighting was drawing to a close for the day. I could hear other Medics shouting above someone screaming. Hard and nasty screams, the kind a soldier makes when they need a limb taken off, or they've had one off already. In the distance I could see a pile of blood corpses with wood around it. I could barely make out the figure of a shaman in the murky light, but the pyre burned bright and strong as it suddenly burst into flames.
Turning away, I entered the keep, moving in between the mix of other races- those who had avoided injured, or at least those who could still walk. Seeing an orc shouting orders (which were largely ignored by the soldiers. I had a feeling they all knew where to go at this point) I approached him. “Excuse-,” A tauren behind me let out a bellowing laugh at something his troll companion said, “Excuse me,” I tried again to the orc, “I'd like to discuss these orders I was recently issued, if you know who I could talk to-” He finally glanced down at me, and said in a dismissive manner, “You'll have to speak with Commander Galvangar in the Iceblood Garrison.”
“Iceblood Garrison?!” I said it so loud a few Frostwolf Soldiers paused. The Orc peered down at me with frosty blue eyes, looking displeased at being distracted directing the soldiers. This was just not my day. “If I could just speak to the General-” “The Frostwolf General has more important things to do then listen to your complaints! You are dismissed.” He glared at me and I returned it as I stalked off. It was dark. The fighting was over for today- and the travel, too. I would have to wait until the morning.
This journey was taking entirely too long for my liking.
“Hungry?” The voice jerked me out of my thoughts, and I looked up. I was sitting some distance away from the rest of the soldiers and their fires, where they ate and talked and rested. Not needing the warmth of the fires and not enjoying the company of the other soldiers, I had come here to think. Now my gaze was met by a relatively young orc, with a thick mane of black hair and brown eyes. His green skin and thick leather armor shone in the firelight, and the bow slung across his chest and the Frostwolf at his side marked him as a hunter, though he had a surprisingly bulky build for the profession. I glanced down at the leg of meat he was offering me and politely shook my head. “No- thank you, though.” He nodded and gave a half shrug, glancing back over towards the bonfires that blazed in the night.
“Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all.”
He sat down with a grunt, throwing the unwanted leg of meat to his Frostwolf, who caught it with an eager snap of his jaws, gnawing into it hungrily.
“I'm Trekk of the Frostwolf Clan. Were you out fighting today? I didn't see you out there, though honestly I was a bit busy.” He gave a deep, rumbling chuckle, and I smiled faintly, glancing down at the Frostwolf that served as his companion.
“No, I only arrived this evening. My name's Kinu Z. Alleyne.”
“Ah- a new recruit, then? I've only recently come of age- only just started fighting in the Valley. Nice name, by the way.”
“Thank you. And no, I've been to the Valley several times before, but I've never fought. I work as a medic and a salvager.”
I waited for the inevitable retort- 'you look every inch the fighter, why don't you fight?', because it was fairly obvious just from my appearance that I was used to combat. It infuriated many that I was an entirely capable soldier- which were desperately needed on the front lines- yet I chose to be a medic.
But he surprised me by saying, “That's understandable. An army made up entirely of fighters can only last so long. Supplies and healing are needed to keep it going."
He glanced at me and laughed at my surprised expression. “Other orcs giving you trouble? Don't worry about it. I should have been a warrior but it never really seemed that alluring to me. Sure, I'm up for bellowing a battle-cry and charging into the middle of a fray, but, ah, I'd like to say I have a bit more intelligence then that. I think they're just jealous because I kill twice as many Alliance from the Iceblood Tower- and the Spirits were kind enough to bless me with Crooktail.” Looking down at the wolf, I did saw that the animal had a noticeable bend in his tail, which was wagging. “But I am curious...” I glanced back up at him, “Most Forsaken hate the Alliance. Why are you unwilling to fight?”
I looked at the orc. His expression was mildly inquisitive. I didn't answer for a moment, considering whether or not I should tell him.
Ah, what the hell. I told him everything.
About how some members of the Horde led a massive attack on all the capitol cities of the Alliance, enraging them. Hated was bitingly strong. You could see it everywhere. “I wasn't opposed to fighting in places like this- Warsong Gulch, Arathi Basin, the Valley- all these confined places. Civilians are smart enough to stay away. But an all out war? That would bode ill for everyone.”
I confessed to him how I didn't really like the Alliance- how they had refused to come to my aid when I was taken captive by a Goblin and forced to fight as a Gladiator, or how it was the Scryers that had rescued me from Firewing Point when I was held captive, not the Alliance. Trekk listened patiently and it felt good to get all these feelings out- to someone who was a stranger, who knew not of my reputation, who cared little for peace and didn't look down on my for my private views and beliefs. I'd kept this to myself for a very, very long time. And getting out felt like being able to breathe again.
“But, now... I feel as though I've become something of a symbol. But what's peace ever done for me, eh? Gotten me assassinated twice, that's what. Maybe some respect and a couple of friends and I know they'll be disappointed in me if I drop my title... So I don't fight.”
Trekk was silent for a long while, to the point where I thought where he might have fallen asleep. But when I glanced at him, his brown eyes were steady and thoughtful.
“All right... First question: What do you think of the Horde?”
I took my time answering him.
“I think that they are a mostly honorable group of races. I don't get along with other Forsaken, but I have found friendship amongst the Orcs, Tauren and Trolls. I believe they care more about the average soldier then the Alliance ever could. I've been surprised since I joined. They are far from what they appear to be.”
Trek nodded, then said, “It's a balance. I believe our Warchief would accept peace, if it was offered, but the Alliance don't seem anywhere near as interested. You must also remember that it is a great honor to fight such a worthy opponent as the Alliance. I would also not oppose peace.”
“But in the mean time, we're not going to simply roll over and let them in the Valley- or the Gulch, or the Basin. This is just a humble orc's opinion, but I think you need to focus more on what you want and not worry so much about what other's think.” I remembered Langley's words from several days ago.
Since when did you care what other people think?
I also remembered how proud he was of me because I walked for peace. I remembered Komali's respect for me, Ishbaneer's... I let out a long, tired sigh.
“I don't know what I want to do, if I want to fight or not.” I snorted, “Not much farther I can fall anyways... Choosing to fight is only adding more scum to the latrine.”
Trekk laughed, and thumped me on the back. Not expecting it, I nearly fell over, only just managing to catch myself.
“Sorry,” He apologized with a tusked grin, “Anyways... Why don't you come with me and the rest of the soldiers to the Iceblood area tomorrow? You'll have the whole journey up there to think about what you want to do; if you decide not to fight, you can speak with Commander Galvangar and if you do want to fight, you can help me defend Iceblood Tower.”
He stood up, brushing some fallen snow off his pants. Crooktail perked his ears at Trekk standing and also stood, holding a thoroughly gnawed on bone in his jaws.
“Anyways. I better get to sleep. See you in the morning, then?”
I nodded.
“Spirits watch over you, Kinu.”
“Ah... You too, Trekk.” I said quietly.
After he and Crooktail had gone, I sighed and looked up at the moon, my thoughts as far away as the lonely orb hanging in the sky.
---
I was awoken from my sleep by the sound of a huge explosion that sent me sprawling into the snow. The sound of snow falling- knocked loose from the blast- followed by people shouting were the next two sounds to reach my ears as I stood, dazed.
I saw soldiers running towards the direction the blast had come from, along with higher ranking stone guards trying to keep everything under control. I hurried over, curious (and slightly worried) to see what had happened. Following the crowd, I couldn't see at first due to the many others standing in the way and the dust that had risen up from the entrance.
When it cleared, I let out such a furious cursing in Darnassian it took monumental effort for me to silence myself so others wouldn't hear.
The tunnel- the only tunnel leading in and out from Alterac Valley available to the Horde- had caved in.
As the dust cleared and the less keen eyed races saw what had happened, talk broke out quicker then a wildfire in the Barrens. Stone guards and senior sergeants tried to restore order as the few who were allowed to go over to the blockage walked over.
I managed to slip through the crowd, heading over towards the large boulders and snow, inwardly cursing but at the same time curious. A troll examining the mess looked at me oddly as I approached and I smiled. “I'm a medic- so on that note, is anyone hurt?” The troll shook his head, sighing. “No, mon all de guards be ded... Or killed. We be tinkin' that dis be the work 'o gnome sappahs, but we ain't chure yet.”
I nodded, frowning deeply. “How long do you think will take to clear this...?” The troll gave a shrug, tugged on one of his tusks, and looked annoyed. “We dunno how far deh cave-in goes. Might be just this itty bit in fron', but could go on for a long time. Might be takin' weeks.” Oh Light, please not that long... I bit back an angry snarl. “Well. If there's nothing for me to do, I better get going. Thank you for the information.” The troll looked up, as if having been lost in thought, “Huh? Oh, sure ting, deadie. Dun worry, we get this cleared eh-es-eh-pee.” You better I thought to myself, scowling as I headed back towards the keep.
Half an hour later after I had managed to send Andi and Ish a letter by messenger owl I was staring at the stable master, and the stable master was looking up at me with furrowed brows and a frown on her face.
“Please.” I said through gritted teeth, “I just need one for the ride up to the Iceblood area.” She shook her head, the many bone earrings she wore jingling together oddly. Although she was a troll, her voice only had the barest trace of an accent. “I cannot let you ride a Frostwolf unless you have the proper standing with the Clan- and fifty Alterac Marks to prove it.” I let out an exasperated sigh.
The convoy to the Iceblood area was leaving soon, and if I didn't have a mount I would be left behind and have to wait another day to travel up. “It's not like I'm going to steal it! How could I even do that with the only way out of this damn valley closed o-” I felt a large hand on my shoulder and looked over, mildly surprised to see Trekk there with Crooktail at his side. “Greetings, Stable Master!” He said loudly, then said in a low tone that only I could hear, “How good are you at riding?” “Better then you think.” I replied softly. He gave a slight nod. The Stable Master grunted a greeting to Trekk, still looking annoyed. “It seems my friend would require a riding wolf for the journey up to Iceblood,” Trekk started, raising an eyebrow at the Stable Master, “Is there no wolf that she could use? ... None at all?” The stable master seemed to consider for a moment, then gave another grunt. “There is one, but it'll cost you.” “Fine.” I replied quickly. I thanked the Light I had brought a good sum of money with me. “Alright, deader- you can have this one for ninety gold. You got enough?” I nodded, mentally wincing at the price but outwardly impatient. “Yes, yes.”
She waved a hand for me to follow and turned and walked into the stable. I was greeted with the familiar smells- straw, the scent of animals, their food, and the leather of riding gear. I followed the stable master but my gaze was only for the Frostwolves. Their white coats gleamed in the lamplight, as did their large fangs. They reminded me a bit of the Frostsabers I had ridden for a good part of my life. “Alright. Here he is.” The Stable Master stopped at the stall nearest to the end, and I looked in.
He was an average sized frostwolf, with piecing sea foam green eyes that reminded me of someone. His fur- far from the gleaming white of most frostwolves- was a grungy mottled grey with undertones of white.
He almost looked like one of Orgrimmar's timber wolves, save for his thick fur and solid limbs. He was already armored and saddled but it bore no mark of the Frostwolves, which I found slightly odd. I thought he was stunning. “Ninety gold.” The Stable Master said, holding out her hand. I nodded, handing her a sack that jingled thickly with money.
“His name's Rimesea. He's all yours.”
It took a bit to catch up to the convoy, but Trekk and I made good time. Rimesea seemed more then eager to bound across the snowy landscape and it took all my skill as a rider to keep him from bounding off. Trekk, meanwhile, rode his own wolf with ease and grace and managed to hold a conversation. “Rimesea is a bit of an oddball. He was supposed to be a simple labor wolf-” He gestured to the pale grey-white wolves who were used to pull supply wagons, “-But he has the temperament of a riding wolf- and the strength, too. No one wanted him for his fur, but I think you're lucky.” I nodded. We rode along in an easy silence for a while, the squeak of the convoy wagons setting an annoying rhythm to our group headed north against the wind. Muffling it, however, was the idle chatter of the mixed bunch of races in it. The guards were for the most part silent, looking about, wary and alert, but the wagon drivers talked loudly and I felt myself relaxing.
“Did you hear that?” I asked Trekk, looking around. I could have sworn I heard... The orc inhaled the wind, and shook his head. “I smell some rams. Probably just a herd nearby.”
I let it drop for a moment, but the feeling continued to nag as our mounts walked alongside the wagons.
“I'm going to go check it out- I'll be right back. You keep going.” Trekk gave a worried nod but didn't push the issue as I broke away from the group, heading towards an abandoned tower in the distance. It was half ruined, crumbling with scorch marks upon the stone, but it might serve as a shelter for someone. Rimesea slowed once we hit the trees surrounding it.
I was silent, not even breathing as I listened hard. It might be a member of the Horde, hurt and in trouble... Or a member of Alliance, healthy and lying in wait. If it was the former, I would be able to assist them. If it was the latter... Well, things would get interesting.
I looked around, frowning to myself. No one. The wind whistled through the trees, stirring up some snow. Rimesea shifted impatiently. I was starting to get impatient myself.
Brazenly, I called out in orcish, "Hello? Is anyone there?" I repeated the phrase again in Common, for the hell of it.
I only had to wait a short while before I heard a faint mumble, only caught by my keen elven ears:
“Oh, great... Just perfect.”
It was spoken in common.
“Get away!” I barked. “I’m warning you!” A pitiful thing to say but I was sincere. I didn't want a fight, not that I wasn't capable. If they were sensible enough, I thought, maybe they'd just slink away and I could rejoin the convoy and-
A draeneic woman stepped out into the clearing, a teal colored frost saber at her side. Her brown hair was cropped short, and her armor was tight fitting and dark colored, best suited for the cold. I recognized her at once.
Kaliili.
“You. Kinu. Why are you here?” She demanded, eyeing me warily. Rimesea's fur bristled and the wolf let out a low growl. I did not stop him.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I replied distrustfully. I was fully aware of the fact that Kaliili had little like of of me. This could end in a very, very bloody manner.
The hunter smiled wanly. “Do you really want to loose again, Kinu? Is that what you want? Go back to your Horde. Leave the Valley while you still do not live.”
I threw up my hands in exasperation at the idle threat. I barely heard it- I knew she was just trying to make me angry.
Well, Goddess damnit, it was working.
“I've been trying to leave the damn Valley ever since I got here!” I seethed, jabbing a finger at the hunter, “I am going to Iceblood, going to get these orders for me to fight withdrawn, and you won't have to worry about seeing me ever again.” I grabbed Rimesea's reins and steered him back towards the convoy.
I had barely managed to take two steps before Kaliili's dark laughter reached my ears. “Yes, run. I would not want to see me again either, were I you.”
I snorted. “I did always think you to be a -powerful- ugly Draenei...”
“Ha!” Her harsh laugh echoed between the trees, “I am not dead. Even better. And you still resort to petty insults? A shame, Kinu. Of course, what am I to expect from a traitor?”
"You're just boiling for a fight, aren't you?" I asked, glancing back at the draenei and raising an eyebrow. "And I'm only traitor because I was forced to be. You think the Alliance would take me back, looking like I am? Being dead like I am?"
“I do not believe it has anything to do with how you look, Kinu. It has everything to do with who you are.”
“Oh? Then who am I?”
“You are a traitor. What is worse, you are entirely unapologetic of that fact.”
“How exactly am I a traitor?!”
Kaliili quirked a brow, “How many Alliance have you killed since you have been in the Valley.”
I let out a sigh that came out sounding more like a strangled hiss. "None! Goddess and Light above, why don't you people get it? I -don't want to fight-!"
“No. No little Kinu- elf. It is you who is not getting it. You are no longer an elf, are you? You are one of them. One of the Forsaken. You choose it to be so. And, like it or not, you are in a war. Your mere existence is a means of creating violence. As long as you live there will be fighting.”
“Well, who else do you think is gonna take me back? The Night Elves?” I laughed unpleasantly, “I'm an abomination in their eyes. The humans? Well, last time I checked they were a mite unfriendly to undead! The dwarves are same! The Draenei...” I trailed off, remembering Lhyko, Lodaar and Sooki,
“The Draenei... They've not been unkind to me- but that's besides the point! Fact is the Alliance hates undead, and last time I checked I'm not breathin' - I had no where to go, Kaliili! I woke up in the Plaguelands cold and dead with a forsaken telling me I'm not alive no more- I got a lot of enemies, Kali! I can't afford to go neutral!”
“I had no choice, so don't be telling me that I chose to be like this.” I snarled, glaring at her.
Kaliili snorted just as her ram did, sending whisps of warm air into the cold. "No, little elf. You chose to wander the Plaguelands alone. And you chose to fight against the Alliance here. And now you tell me you had no choice? Life is nothing but choice, Kinu- elf. Stop lying to everyone, including yourself. I do not feel sorry for you."
"I am not fighting the Alliance! I work in this Valley as a Medic and a Salvager- fixing people up and gathering supplies. I don't fight the Alliance... Yet." I let that threat hang, Rimesea trembling with eagerness to fight.
The draenei tossed her head back, laughing, "You claim to be a non- combatant, yet everyone you help comes back to the front lines to fight me. Every piece of salvage creates armor and equipment for the Horde to kill Alliance. And you have the audacity to claim innocence? To claim neutrality? I wish I was as deluded as you."
"I know!" I snapped. "I know... That they go back out there to kill Alliance. And I know it's stupid but I want to help." I looked at her, my gaze steady and even, the rage turning into a deadly calm.
"Tell me what you want, or leave. Now."
Kaliili met my gaze with her own. "I am afraid I cannot do that. This land is in my charge. You came here, not the other way around. So what now, Kinu? Will you run? Will you stay? Will you talk? Or will I be forced to tie another knot in Sha's saddle?"
I spat into the snow, "I sure as hell ain't staying here to be insulted, that's for sure." Yanking Rimesea around, I started to head back towards the convoy. Again.
Kali's ram gronked. "Well goodbye then. Enjoy your life and living it so deluded. I would have killed myself first." And with that, Kali whispered into the ram's ear. The shaggy beast snuffled and turned away. The Kali, however, kept an eye on me.
I didn't turn back towards the Draenei, but I laughed all the same. Then I -did- glance back at the hunter, if only for a moment. I gave a genuine smile.
"I will enjoy it, Kali. You know..." I faced away from the Draenei, giving a chuckle. "I'm happy. At least, I'm not like you. An angry, bitter woman. Not anymore. And I think I'm better for it. So you enjoy your life, too, Kali. I hope you and Ari are happy together- you really do deserve each other."
And with that insult, I nudged Rimesea into a run, clearing the trees and dashing back out into the clear snow and warm sunlight.
Rimesea enjoyed the sprint back to the convoy, and was panting happily when I pulled up besides Trekk. He paused in tying a bandage around his arm and smiled at me. “Glad to see you're alright- what took you so long? I would have come looking for you sooner, but we got attacked...”At my worried look, he chuckled, “Just a patrol. We dealt with them easy enough.” Waiting for my explanation, he stared at my expectantly and sighed.
“It was nothing. But, Trekk?”
“Mhm?”
I gave a cruel smile. Kali said I was a traitor? Well... She was going to get more then she bargained for. I'd show her.
“Forget the Garrison. I'm fighting.”
----
It was midday by the time that Trekk and I- along with several other archers- parted with the convoy and headed up towards the Iceblood tower.
We sent our riding wolves to the Garrison for safety. I walked up the long ramps up towards the top of the tower with no small amount of meekness, already starting to regret my hastily made decision. Trekk, meanwhile, seemed eager at the prospect of fighting, conversing with another bowman with a smile on his face.
Although it was warmer up on the top of the tower in the sunlight, the wind was still bitterly cold despite it being summer in the Valley. I rubbed my nose, worried about getting frostbite without noticing to the point where I cast Molten Armor on myself.
After a few minutes of standing there, Trekk walked over, Crooktail running over to greet me, nuzzling up against my knees and no doubt enjoying the warmth radiating off me. Trekk handed me a thick blanket- blue, lined with white fur and with a Frostwolf emblem stitched into it. “Thank you.” I said, wrapping it around my shoulders and giving him a smile of thanks. Trekk nodded, looking out over the Valley. I followed his gaze.
The sun glinted off the snow, sparkling in the high noon sun. In the distance I could see mountains, and here and there were clearings of snow-covered trees that had managed to survive the harsh conditions of Alterac along with the almost constant fighting.
I could also see Stormpike Guard buildings, and I bit my lower lip nervously. Trekk placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, “All we have to do is keep lookout until the Alliance arrive. They might not even come today.” Trekk's tone suggested that he hoped that this was not the case.
“You there! Soldier! Get back into position!”
Crooktail turned and snarled at the voice of the Sergeant, but Trekk silenced him with a gesture and nodded at the Sergeant. “See you later, then.” He said to me quietly as he walked towards the other side of the tower and out of sight.
And then it was just me and the snowy landscape stretched out before me.
I sat down, figuring I might as well get comfortable. I let my feet dangle over the edge, not bothered the slightest by the dizzying drop. I wrapped the blanket around me, scanning the landscape intently. This wasn't the first time I had done scouting work and I slipped back into the task rather easily.
But it was giving me a lot of time to think, something I wasn't too keen on doing just now.
Did I really want to battle the Alliance? Ever since I had taken up that stupid Peacewalker title I had felt that aching urge to fight. Of course I had spent time in the field- I had thrown myself into the study of arcane and worked with organizations to combat the Scourge and the Burning Legion. But it just wasn't the same.
I closed my eyes, pulling my knees up to my chest.
Was I a bad person...?
“That's -krssssssk-, Langley. Do you -krsssk- everything your wife tells you?”
I jumped at the muffled voice, heavily lined with static. My buzzbox... I reached down towards my belt and pulled out a metal box with a speaker on front, along with several knobs and dials on the side. I stared at it, listening. The connection was bad, but I could still make out some things.
“I have a-” Static. “Selective memory.” Came the reply, and I smiled.
I had forgotten about my buzzbox- a device that Lila made that allowed us to talk all across Azeroth. It had been very quiet these part few days- perhaps it'd gotten turned off by mistake...
I sat, holding the buzzbox, smiling and listening to the static-lined voices of my friends filter through. The topic was rapidly changing- from memories to socks to invisible shields to a hide and seek game Langley was planning tomorrow... I sighed.
“I hope I can get back soon.” I spoke into it.
“... I-” Andi's voice was marred by static. “- hope you can too, love.”
I was about to reply when a shout went up from one of the archers, and I quickly shut the box off, strapping it back onto my belt.
“The Alliance!”
I leapt to my feet, looking down. A large group of Alliance was approaching the tower. An arrow whizzed past my face and I shrank away from the edge. The bowman had already started firing with deadly accuracy into the soldiers on orders from the Sergeant.
I felt a giddy fear in the pit of my stomach as I readied myself. It was the fear of death- I'd already faced it down once, but I knew I wouldn't be so lucky again. That fear was always there.
I walked over to the edge again and looked down, my gaze a harsh glare.
The fear that it would finally be my time and I wouldn't find myself looking up at the Spirit of the Horde as a ghostly apparition.
Flames appeared around my hands as I worked the magic, focusing, concentrating..
That I would be dead for real- for good.
I let the magic fly.
The fireball exploded into the members of the Stormpike guard, missing the Frostwolf Soldiers fighting at the base of the tower. It hit a night elf- a white haired rogue in black- and he was knocked back by the impact and quickly overwhelmed.
There was no remorse. There was no sorrow. There was only kill, or be killed.
I watched, firing magic into the conflict, as despite my efforts and those of the bowman around me the Frostwolf Soldiers were slowly overwhelmed. I could feel the thump thump thump of armored feet running up the ramps.
And then they were on us.
The bowman turned their fire inwards to a group of about ten Alliance that came up from the ramps. One of them- a paladin, I thought- screamed as an arrow hit him in the cheek, blood goin' everywhere. I darted up, quick as I could, and shoved him over the edge. I grunted as I hit his armored form, pain shooting up my elbow, but he went over all the same, and our eyes meeting for the briefest moments before he disappeared over the edge.
I shook my head and turned back around, just in time to see a dwarf swinging his blades for my knees, screaming a battle cry. No chance to dodge. I shouted a spell and a block of ice formed all around me, his blades scrabbling on the surface in frustration.
A bowman on the level above us hit him with an arrow, then another, then another. Third time I saw blood. He gave a grunt of pain, swinging his blade right as the ice around me disappeared.
I grunted in pain as my kilt tore, could feel the blood dripping down my leg as I angrily brought my knee up into his face. He fell over backwards, unmoving. That must've done it. But I wasn't done yet, not yet, not yet...
Corpses littered the platform, blood dripping off it from both Horde and Alliance. A sturdy drip drip drip, barely heard above the din of combat. A blood elf charged past me, his armor crunching against the night elf warrior as their swords met, both of them screamin' Light-knows-what at each other. I spotted Crooktail growling over the remains of a Draenei. Then an arrow hit me in hip and I roared in pain as I whirled, looking for the attacker.
A night elf hunter snarled at me, looking disgusted. She opened her mouth to say something. I never gave her the chance. A lance of ice flew from my fingertips, smacking her in the face. There was a crack and some blood- I had probably broken her nose.
Then a huge white furred bear came out and tackled me into the ground, foul breath fitting my nostrils as I barely managed to keep it from biting my face. I thrust my forearm at it, and its jaws clamped down on it hard as its claws tried to rake at my chest. I sputtered a spell and a fireball hit it in the muzzle. It didn't let go and I head something crack.
Pain blurred my vision. Blood soaked the back of my head. I wondered vaguely if it was my own. The din of the battle and the roaring of the bear seemed distant.. I struggled furiously against the bear, kicking, firing any spell that came to mind, fighting desperately. I heard someone shouting my name. I felt the hot breath of the animal and jaws around my throat. I fought harder.
Then everything went black.
---
“... Is it Winter's Veil...?” Was the first thing out of my mouth when I awoke, the world spinning crazily. I closed my eyes and heard someone laugh. I giggled, then stopped. It hurt.
I didn't know where I was or if I was even alive or not. Alive in the technical sense of the word, of course, since... Since... I was undead. Right.
I groaned, bringing a hand up to my head and growled something in Darnassian that roughly translated to 'frog-humping sonofabitch'. My chest, leg and hip all hurt like...
“Kinu?”
I opened my eyes, and gradually the world came back into focus. And there was Trekk, with Crooktail at his side. Trekk had a couple bandages here and there, but he was overall unharmed. I glanced down at myself and winced. Most of my upper body was covered in bandages. I could feel some wrapped around my leg where the blade got me. “Glad to see that you're back with the living.” The bowman said with a grin.
“Uhuh.” I wheezed. Breathing hurt. “Did... We win?” I felt woozy. I had probably lost too much ichor, though I preferred to think of it as blood. The necromatic energies tended to falter a little bit if I lost too much of the stuff.
Trekk nodded, “We lost the tower for a bit, but in the end we pushed up into the Stonehearth Outpost. Most of the bowman who were originally in the tower didn't make it... Only you and I along with a few others.” He grunted at me. “You got beaten pretty bad.”
I nodded, looking around. Taking an educated guess, I assumed we were in the Frostwolf Relief Hut, what with the other wounded soldiers lying around and Frostwolf Keep peeking at me through the door.
“.. What happened to me? Feels like I got hit with a siege engine.”
Audric Lithdel Community Member 
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