Now…
Quista brushed the hair out of her eyes as she continued to fire her massive Dwarven Hand Cannon. Goblins and ogres were everywhere. She saw Rastorem take a crushing blow from Baron Dracov a human paladin. The blow seemed to be more than Rast could bear as he fell to his knees stunned. Felonius caught Dracov by the throat and pulled him to the ground. Poppapump stepped up and began casting a healing spell on Rast restoring his health. Unfortunately this left him open to the attack from nearby ogres. Poppa let out a shriek of pain and collapsed. Baaradon seeing the fallen healer fired a quick concussive shot stunning the ogre and dashed over to his comrade. Quista still firing at the advancing mob watched as Baar slung his weapon and drew his jumper cables from one of his packs. As he charged the cables, Narrak the Mauler leapt from seemingly nowhere trying to catch the Tauren with his guard down. Quista signaled to Hiruskiya and Gndgekleg to hold the line as she rushed to Baar's aid. Quista commanded Concur, her fateful pet; to attack the approaching ogre and began firing as she reached Baaradon.
"I should have known you'd turn a rescue attempt into one of our usual dates."
3 Month Ago…
The Sun was beginning to set in the Barrens as Quistadora rode toward Crossroads. She was careful not to attract the attention of the Kolkars, not that she couldn't handle them. As she neared the golden road she started to feel dizzy. Quistadora dismounted and staggered forward; realizing something wasn't right, she instinctively drew her blades. The weight of her enchanted weapons was too much and she began to lose her grip. Her vision blurred as she scanned her surroundings trying to find the cause of her current condition. She dropped to one knee using her blades to prop herself up. As a wave of nausea rushed over her and she doubled over puking up things she hadn't even remembered eating. The last of her energy spent, she released the grip on her blades and toppled forward. Her last thoughts being: "I hope I don't land in the vomit." and then everything went black.
A deviant fish struggle to get free, impaled by a hook. It tugged and tugged against the pull of the hook that held it fast. The desperate pulls on the hook almost made the pole it was attached to fall from its owner's hand. All this movement woke Baaradon from a sound sleep. He hadn't realized how tired he was. Most of the day had been spent tracking down the thieves who had robbed him that morning. The large Tauren reeled in his catch and tucked it away in a pouch with five others he'd already caught. That was when he heard the foot steps of a raptor approaching. Baaradon was on his feet in an instant with his fishing pole in hand. It wasn't exactly his first choice of weapon but it would have to do. What he saw took him by surprise. It wasn't an untamed raptor from the wild, it was a domesticated riding raptor. Immediately recognizing the raptor as Quista's, he dropped the fishing pole, grabbed his axe, and dashed off in direction the mount had come from.
Baaradon followed a trail that ended when he reached the golden road. There was no one to be found. After using his spyglass to survey the outlying area, he began examining the ground, looking for some sort of clue. What he found disturbed him. Tauren's had a unique bond with nature that gave them an edge when they trained as Druids, Shamans and Hunters. Hunters were able to track just about anything, and everything left a trail that could be tracked except magic. Magic though detectable and sometimes able to be matched to its source, was untraceable outside of the time of use. The trail coming to an end and not picking up again, along with the use of magic could only mean one thing…
The portal opened and two figures emerged dragging a third. Scyrun sat upon his wolf mount. The orc spit at the ground as the two new arrivals presented their prize. "What do we have here, a new on eh? Markesh get over here and inspect this troll." A fat orc ran out of a tent and over to Quista's limp body.
"A fine specimen master, she should do well." Markesh paused and went pale. "Wait she's a Mute Assasin! This one may be trouble."
"I doubt that, She's just one troll. The Assasins have no idea she's gone and have no way to trace us here." The robed figures who had brought her argued. Scyrun contemplated it for a moment.
"The slave is correct. We'll beat any defiance out of her and a her guild won't know she's here." Markesh nodded reluctantly.
"As you wish, master." The fat orc looked to the robed slaves. "Take her to be processed before she wakes." Scyrun's wolf growled and his master soothed him. Markesh looked on wearily as the slaves carried Quistadora away.
"Don't look so worried Markesh. The Age of The Scarlet Blade is almost at hand. Both Alliance and Horde alike will bow to us and beg to join us." He pulled on the reigns of his wolf and it reared and growled. Markesh trying to look inspired turned and followed the slaves into the processing tent.
The slaves, all wearing robes that obscured their appearance, quickly removed all of Quistadora's clothing and armor. When they finished they left her naked and sprawled out on a large table. Well the table was large to them. Since they only stood about 4 feet high and troll females were about 6 feet, she actually covered the table.
Quista slowly began to come to as one of the slaves stood over her chanting. Before the slave could finish his cast two large blue toes slapped him in the face knocking him to the ground. Quista sprang up from the table landed on her feet in a crouched position. Some of the slaves froze in terror. Others were taken by the beauty of her naked form.
Markesh heard crashes and terrible screams from the processing tent and brought a couple ogres with him. When they entered tent the orc's green skin went pale white a second time. Blood, robes and limbs were thrown everywhere. In a darkened corner of the tent a pair of eyes watched the three of them with intense fury. Markesh laughed.
"I told Scyrun she'd be trouble. Subdue her…painfully." The two Orges charged her position. Quista leapt forward crossing half the distance between them and using hands to propel her further she completed a flip planting a foot squarely in the Ogre's gut. In the same fluid motion she used the ogre's belly as a spring board and launched at the second ogre, hands out reaching for his throat. The first clumsily tumbled backward from the blow he had sustained. The second ogre fell against and then through one of the support columns with Quista swinging from his neck. There was a thunderous crash as the troll dug nails deep into the ogre's flesh. Unfortunately her fury clouded her natural instinct to mind her surroundings and those in it. Markesh bashed her in the back of the head with a large club and Quista's naked body went limp again as she slid off of the ogre on to the floor. Markesh looked around tent at the carnage that one unarmed troll had caused and shook his head.
"Yep, trouble."