Author's Note: This fic was written in honour of Zebrinnu's birthday and introduces a few new characters as well. It is my second attempt at writing from a perspective that is not my own character (Leda), the first being The Cephalopod. This tale is post-cataclysm. Please read and review!
It was disgustingly stuffy inside Nefarion's stronghold. Leda huffed and tried to catch her breath; she ached all over and smelt like the Undercity canals. The big bear slumped over to a dark, forgotten corner and slowly lowered her tired muscles onto the blissfully cool stone floor. Her bright blue eyes tracked the rest of her unit as they finished up with their first hurdle inside Blackwing Descent.
Her twin had already sat himself down next to Magmatron and was pulling out springs and cogs, sorting them neatly and singing to himself. "… this rubber hose is connected to the … power source! The power source is connected to the … little wheel…"
"Anything useful, Iyo?" The moonkin looked over at Seishougen, who had joined him on the floor.
"I have first dibs on books, if that's what you mean." Iyo rummaged through the contents of the golem's 'stomach' and pulled out a glowing ring of metal offering it to the elf. "Here, have a new hat!"
"Uh.. Thanks Iyo," he mumbled. The tauren nodded and plonked it down overtop of Sei's carefully maintained mane, earning a cringe from the mage.
Boots - greaves to be more specific - snuck into Leda's view of vision, obscuring nearly the whole room. "Ya okay dere Gen'ral?" Jod's voice echoed in and around itself, sending shivers up the bear's spine - her foot twitched and she frowned. In response, she exhaled quickly through her nose and rolled away from the death knight. Reformed or not, he was still Scourge. "Sorry ta bodder ya Sir," Jod sighed and she heard his boots retreat towards the rest of the group.
An ear piercing, spine chilling, blood rending scream startled Leda from her almost-nap and she was up on her feet in the blink of an eye. If the denizens of Blackwing Descent were not yet aware of their presence - they certainly were now. With an overly dramatic sigh, Leda shifted back into her humanoid form and the groan of pain accompanying it was nearly as loud as the earlier scream. She shook her head to clear the pain and marched purposefully toward the rest of the 43rd.
"Didn't I say we had to be absolutely quiet? This was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission!" Leda growled through clenched teeth.
"Sorry, Sir," squeaked Aethalia - their newest member. "I was just packing up my lightwell and that… that thing jumped out!"
"What thing, I don't see -" Leda jumped as a tiny spider was shoved into her face. The spider blinked eight times and then seemed to cock his head to the side. It couldn't have been more than two inches across.
"Oh Gods, kill it!" The spider (and the hand holding it) were whisked away from the priest's rather uncoordinated flailing attack.
"What did he eva do ta ya?" Zeb grumbled, cradling the little spider away from the attacks of the big bad blood elf.
"Its creepy and crawly and twitchy and ewwww so gross!"
Zeb looked closely at the spider in his hand, his nose nearly touching the sensitive hair of the spider's legs. His goggles whirled and spun, zooming in and out as the troll got a good look at his newest fuzzy friend. "Maybe he be tinkin' you da twitchy an' smelly one." Zeb shrugged and set the itty bitty spider up on his shoulder, ignoring Aethalia's huff of annoyance.
"Well what ya gonna call 'im, mon?" Leda repressed the shudder that skittered up her spine as Jod spoke. Zeb frowned and thought for a moment. A bang and long hiss interrupted the naming process and the group turned toward where Iyo and Sei were conducting a very thorough autopsy of Arcanotron.
"Kaz'gri nah ilrap'ka!" Hoarse, angry voices echoed off the high stone walls. Their flimsy cover had been blown - either by dismantling the defense system or Aethalia's scream. Frankly, Leda wasn't surprised and their unflappable leader wasn't panicked either. With a sigh she grabbed her saddlebag and her polearm, gesturing for the others to head out first. Iyo brought up the rear wearing Arcanotron's hollowed out head.
Their barracks had moved. Leda wasn't pleased to find out that their cozy little tower in the Valley of Honour was not being rebuilt after the Second Sundering. Instead, some clueless bureaucrat had stuffed them into the hot, humid, windowless, orc-sweat-smelling barracks in the fortified wall between the Valley of Honour and The Drag.
Like every night they were able to return "home" Seishougen lit the lamps while the rest wearily trudged up to their rooms, each eager for some R&R. Like every night, the mage, exhausted from sustaining a portal literally across the known world, stumbled into the sweltering hot room he shared with their resident hunter. Unlike every other night, his roommate (the hunter) was making sure a baby spider was comfortable in the little hammock he'd strung up in a dark corner over his own bed.
With a confused grimace the elf turned and began his nightly facial regimen, not noticing a similar expression on the troll's face at his roommate's vanity.
The little spider appeared at breakfast the next morning, riding again on Zeb's shoulder.
"'Morning dere Greatstorm," the troll smiled and pulled up a chair next to the drowsy tauren. "Didn' sleep very well, mon?" Greatstorm didn't respond. "Eh…mon?"
"Hm? Oh, morning Zeb. Lose your spider already?"
"Nope! He's right here."
Up in her room Leda smiled to herself, stretching her arms far above her head and enjoying the beam of sunlight that streamed across her bunk. She had just settled in for another hour of sleep-in, her cheek finding the blissfully cool edge of her linen pillowcase, when a blood curdling scream had her out of her bed in a flash. In the blink of an eye she had her sheets tied into a make-shift toga and her polearm ready to repel the banshee in their kitchen.
"Uh… Mornin' Boss Bear."
She blinked. There was no banshee. No dwarves. No Scourge. Only a troll and a tauren. And porridge. The table (and the troll and tauren in question) were covered in it.
"You ok dere Leda'bear?"
"Thought I heard a scream," she mumbled, crossing her arms awkwardly.
"Ya did. Guess Greatstrorm 'ere don't be likin' da creepy crawlies," Zeb chuckled, wiping oatmeal off his cheek.
"Just get it away while I eat," he grumbled, getting up to make more porridge. "Go back to bed Leda," he waved her off, "You can still get a couple hours nap before your debriefing with Garrosh." She smiled and slunk back to her room and the sunbeam she'd left behind. Greatstorm filled up the heavy cast iron kettle and hung it up over the low fire before grabbing his dirty, half empty bowl and heading for the sink. "Got a name for that eight legged freak yet?"
The troll shrugged in response. "Been t'inkin' 'bout it." He scooped up some spilled oatmeal onto his finger and offered it to his newest pet. The little spider nibbled on it, making content clicking noises in Zeb's ear.
"Well we can't just call it 'Spider' for forever. You know how Iyo is about naming things." Great chuckled, adopting an Iyo-like posture and stroking his imaginary beak. "The great Elven philosopher Alonsus says 'Without a name one cannot begin to know oneself.'"
"Truer words were never spoken!" The tauren himself appeared on the stairs and clapped Greatstorm on the back. "What's the name Zeb?"
"Aracnotron!" The troll grinned and picked up the golem head Iyo had left on the table the night before.
"What kind of name is Aracontron?"
"What kind of name is Lt. Peacebloom Greatstorm?"
"Touche, Zeb. Touche."
A week later, the little bitty spider was too big for Zeb's shoulder. Aracnotron's hammock was dismantled (for fear he should fall on poor Zeb in the night) and the foot long arachnid took up residence beneath Zeb's bunk. Sei lived in quiet fear of stepping on him in the night.
The two would often be seen around the city. Aracnotron would follow around the hunter as he conducted his usual business - selling embroidered bags at the marketplace, cooking rations for the troops on the frontlines or fishing in the small lake in the Valley of Wisdom. Shrieks and screams generally accompanied their arrival, but it kept the elves away, which Zeb found he enjoyed immensely.
In the afternoon, they would adjourn to Hunter's Hall. It had been some time since Zeb had trained a new companion - since before the cataclysm. Not too much had been changed since Thrall was warchief - Horde banners had been added along with more practice dummies. The troll nodded to himself in approval. The banners would provide much needed shade for the training animals. Beside him, Aracnotron made quiet clicking noises, his legs twitching nervously.
Three orc hunters stood in a circle in the middle of the hall, arguing loudly about how to cook fathom eels. Their companions - a boar, wolf and crab - were play fighting together, pouncing and running around the hall.
"C'mon dere, Aracnotron," Zeb smiled encouragingly at the spider and started over to one of the smaller wooden training dummies. "Now dis guy here be wood." The troll knocked on the dummy's chest to illustrate. "But your li'l teeth jus' be comin' in now, so I brought somet'in' ta be helpin' yous." A thick bolt of wool is quickly tied around the hard wood. "Much bettah."
They practiced for hours each day. Zeb would demonstrate first and Aracnotron would imitate him. The other hunters could barely contain their laughter whilst watching the hunter demonstrate how to position oneself behind their enemy.
"So here I be, pullin' out da bow." He aims his bow at the wooly training dummy and then looks down pointedly at the little spider, who appears to be hanging on the troll's every word. "What you be doin' mon?"
The spider tilts his head.
Zeb sighs. "Like dis!" The troll makes a close approximation of 'scuttling' noises, crouching low and running behind the dummy. "See? Try again, mon."
The troll resumes his position at the appropriate range, pulls out his bow and yells "PEW PEW! Go go Aracnotron!" The spider, hearing his name, gets excited and dashes behind the dummy. "Ya, dat's it!" Aracnotron peeks out from behind the woolen padding, his little purple eyes quickly spying his treat - a cold piece of bacon.
His fangs came in two weeks later. The spider was nearly full grown and the size of the worgs that the orcs seemed to prefer. The woollen padding was discarded (and nearly shredded after weeks of training) and replaced with a thin layer of linen.
"Da poisonz are a big deal, mon. What your poisonz be doin' ta enemies?" The spider blinked eight eyes in succession and seemed to think. The spider began to scurry across the hall and then suddenly slowed to a slow motion run. Zeb chuckled, but nodded in approval, "Slowin' poisonz be da bes' mon!" The spider chirped happily.
"Now doesn' really matter all dat much where you be bitin' dem. Aim for da lower back. Rogues always be goin' for da kidneys an' dey use poisonz all da time." Arcanotron lunged up and with a "thunk!" bit the dummy, tearing the linen. "Hm…" Zeb leaned in close, unable to see any poison on the linen. "Again." Aracnotron jumped up and bit the linen, aiming for the dummy's kidneys. "No no, like dis, mon." The hunter leaned in and bit the wooden dummy with his own teeth. The spider mimicked him and both ended up with a mouthful of cedar. The orc hunters had coughing fits to cover up their laughter. "No poisonz yet, mon?" The spider shook his head. "We be tryin' again t'morrow."
They tried for another week. Aracnotron had stopped growing and was now a full two feet tall and an impressive three feet long. For the most part, his colouring was grey and the tips of his legs were a deep green. His violently violet eyes were incredibly expressive - at least to Zeb. Aethalia still found him "creepy."
Aracnotron's poison did eventually develop during a day off from training. The spider had a lot of energy, which was usually expended during their training sessions. Without training, Zeb had to resort to other methods of keeping Aracnotron busy. In the corridor outside their barracks, the two could often be found play wrestling.
It was in the corridor that Greatstorm nearly tripped over the hunter's unconscious form. A yelp from the tauren echoed in the long hallway as Aracnotron skittered out of the shadows. The tauren kept his distance, "What'd you do, little creeper?"
A single, long leg reached out to poke Zeb's shoulder. The troll didn't move. But the spider did. Greatstorm stepped back as Aracnotron got closer, baring his fangs. "Ysera help me, he's gone rabid!" The spider slumped in frustration, skittering back toward Zeb, poking the hunter's shoulder. "I don't understand you, you stupid spider! Get away so I can see why Zeb's napping in the hallway." He shooed the arachnid away and looked closer at what the long, skinny, twitchy leg was pointing at: two perfect puncture marks. "For Mu'sha's sake!" Greatstorm searched frantically for a pulse, the hunter's heart had slowed dramatically, but the tauren had seen worse.
From his bag, the druid pulled out a deep burgundy leaf, mumbling under his breath about hunters and their ridiculous pets. The leaf was carefully positioned over the bite marks and covered with Greatstorm's big hand. After a deep breath, he closed his eyes. His hand glowed a faint green in the dark hall and the leaf crumbled into dust. "He'll be drowsy for a few hours, but he'll be ok." The tauren glared at the spider, who hung his head shamefully.
Zeb stirred, his movements slow and ginger. His muscles were on fire and for some reason he was on the floor… "Aracnotron! You did it mon!"
"Almost killed you? Yeah, he did it alright," Greatstorm mumbled under his breath. "C'mon Zeb, let's get you up to bed." The troll leaned heavily on the druid, but they managed the two sets of stairs to Zeb and Sei's room.
"T'ank ya, Greatstorm, mon,"
"Its what I do."
Two days later Zeb was up and about and fully recovered from "the accident." To make up for lost time, they spent all day at the training dummies. By the end of the day, the thin linen sheet covering their dummy was soaked in bright green poison and barely distinguishable as linen beneath all the strands of web.
At dusk, when their shadows stretched long before them, the troll and spider made their way back to the barracks, ready to collapse into their beds. Loud clangs and yells echoed down the dark hallway and before reaching the door, Zeb knew such a rest would not be possible.
"Zeb! I was just going to send Vora here to find you," Leda crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Zeb knew that look - she was annoyed. "Grab your things, we're moving out," she muttered gruffly, grabbing her own polearm and saddlebag.
Zeb and Aracnotron met Aethalia on the stairs, her own embroidered bag and staff in hand. The front of her robes was covered in a pinkish dust. Their new orders must've interrupted some serious enchanting. The priest, upon seeing Zeb's companion, ducked into Jod and Greatstorm's room. The tauren's surprised "Whoa!" could be heard through the heavy wooden door. The troll chuckled and the two of them slipped into their own room where Sei was in the middle of conducting an important ritual.
"Why can I never get this thing closed?" the elf grumbled, muttering to his already-enchanted-beyond-belief rucksack. Cosmetics, pots of ink and scrolls of parchment tumbled out. Sei huffed and sat down on his bed, clearly pouting. Zeb chuckled and busied himself with throwing things into his bag - a couple of flasks, some sturdy ember weave nets, a couple handfuls of saronite razorheads and a skewer of eel. "And you're sure you can't expand this any more Zeb?" the mage pleaded.
"Any bigger den dat be hard ta carry. Mebbe Aeat'lia be able ta charm it biggah?"
"She was, but then we got new orders. Finally. Took them long enough to analyze the intell we brought back from Blackwing. Speaking of new orders, Leda'll be pissed if we don't hurry. Well, more pissed." Frantically he began pulling things out of the bag until it snapped shut.
The hunter, spider and mage caught up with the rest of their unit at the docks. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was just setting, disappearing into the sea in a dazzling display of citrus flavoured colours. Their transport was waiting, but there seemed to be some kind of argument on the gangplank.
"No I will not!" Aethalia screeched, stomping her delicate little foot.
"You'd better!" Leda was furious, stomping her own foot in an equally childish manner.
"I'm not going anywhere with those… those… things!" The goblins sneered back at the prissy elf. One of the more charming goblin sailors stuck his pinky finger in his hairy ear and then into his mouth. "Why can't we take a zeppelin? A nice, safe, Forsaken-manned zeppelin! It'll go faster and we'll be ther-"
"Absolutely not," Leda growled, "Now get on that boat before I get really angry!" The elf stuck her nose in the air and crossed her arms - a perfect picture of mulishness.
"Let's get this going," Greatstorm grumbled, picking up the little priest and tossing her over his shoulder easily. She screamed and kicked, banging on his back, but the druid calmly boarded the transport, making a beeline for the quarters below deck. Zeb chuckled and was joined by Seishougen and despite Leda's frustrated glare, soon enough the two were holding their stomachs and barely able to board the ship.
Zeb had nearly forgotten how dark it was inside the black dragonflight's stronghold. He reached up to the goggles resting on his forehead, pulling them down over his eyes. They whirled and clicked a few times before compensating for the darkness. At his feet, Aracnotron mimicked their clicking noises. Jod chuckled behind his hand - the hunter and the spider had matching, glowing purple eyes.
A bear waited patiently next to the elevator that would take them further into the dungeon. From the top, Zeb could see the huge, armed black dragon-guards patrolling around the circle of lava. The hunter looked down at his companion, who lifted a long thin leg and pointed forward. With a deep breath, the boisterous 43rd battalion of the Horde army took their first determined step into Nefarion's stronghold.