This may very well be my last Warcraft fic, ever. I just am not interested in the Warcraft universe anymore. I've canceled my account to WoW, so I have nothing tying me to the lore anymore. It's sad, since I've liked writing these past few stories. I hope that anyone who has been reading has liked them as well.
Being Horde
Tauren were natural hunters, and even Taff, who preferred shamanistic magic to a firearm or bow, was well versed in the art of stalking. His father, he thought it was his father at least, had taught him how to hunt when he was still very young. He must have been young, four or five, because his family was murdered when he was still just a calf. Through all he'd been through, those lessons remained ever present, deep in the back of his mind. Even today he called on his father's advice as he waited silently.
The stag was oblivious to him, even though he was only two or three paces away. The Ashenvale forest's brush covered his massive, muscular form. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his rifle to his eye. There was the sound of clicking as his heavy thumb pulled the hammer back. The stag's head rose, sensing danger, but Taff didn't think it was the noise that he made that caused the great animal to bolt out into the trees. Instead, he guessed it was the distant sounds of battle that wafted over the forest grounds. The faraway clash steel, over the hill and across the waterfall. Distant sounds, Taff could barely hear the battle cries, but they were there, and they scared away his dinner. Curiosity got the better of him.
The battle was thirty yards away, a ten minute walk to the open clearing that had quickly became yet another battlefield between the Horde and the Alliance, and even quicker a graveyard. Corpses were strewn about the ground, some hacked and stabbed, others burned by magic. Skulls crushed, bodies torn apart in a frenzy by the opposing side. The grass was slippery with spilled blood. The crimson of humans and the black of orcs mixed well together, much better than the two species themselves ever could. Taff bent down and placed his rifle down, before retrieving a discarded sword the ground. It was still slick with the crimson of its former owner, of what race the former owner was Taff couldn't say. It was small, more the size of a dagger than a long sword in the tauren's large grip. Perhaps it belonged to the dwarf that lay a few steps away. His skull was split neatly open. An axe, Taff decided, had crack him neatly down the middle.
Orcs always liked axes. Taff noticed the green skinned creature laying on the ground to his left. Three arrows had penetrated his back, the feathered tails stood tall and triumphant in the noon's sun. Typical of the Alliance, to attack when the orc's back was turned. Taff's thick fingers searched for a pulse on the orc's neck. It was futile, he knew, but the chance at saving the life was not something he would ignore. The spirit of the combatants had long fled to the afterlife.
The breathing was labored, low and shallow enough that Taff didn't hear it at first. He turned towards the source of the sound, and that was the first time he noticed the human.
By her armor, he would guess she was a paladin, which made sense: strong and zealous, her kind never died easy. Never the less, in another few moments she'd be lost in death's grip.
"Hello," Taff said, speaking in common. He knew the language, but was a bit rusty. Eck usually acted as translator, should the need arise.
The human, fearful, turned to him. Her eyes glazed with fatigue, her skin slimy with sweat. She was terrified, though of him or her current state he wasn't sure.
"Who are you?" Taff asked.
She didn't answer. She just lay there, dumbly, hands holding the wound on her side.
With familiar ease, Taff called upon the spirit's bounty, using their grace to heal the wound on the human's chest. His hands glowed and he moved to touch her, gently enveloping her skin, moving his grip a moment later when the skin healed sealed.
"Relax," Taff said, kneeling to his haunches and easing the human to an upright position.
She swung a clenched fist into Taff's broad snout, causing him to tumble back onto his rump. "Stay away from me, monster. You have no right to steal these lands from the night elves."
"And you invaded the valley, but I didn't save you to discuss morality."
"Who are you? Why would you save me?" the human demanded.
"Why wouldn't I? I am not of the Horde, not any more at least. It is my duty to help those in need. Don't try to stand. You're still weak. Exert yourself and you will die, and the ancestors don't take kindly to wasting their gifts. Were you the last to die? Who is it that slew you?"
The human held her head, cringing weakly, painfully.
"Stay calm," he warned again.
"A blood elf. She could use our power, our Light. She used it, that monster. She used it."
"Which way did she go?" Taff asked.
"I don't know."
Taff stood up. "Wait about an hour to build up your strength, then you should be able to make it to one of your encampments. And human, you never saw me, understand?"
The human paused, but offered a shallow nod as the tauren retrieved his rifle and walked off into the trees.
Even an experienced tracker such as he had no hope of finding an elf, any elf. Besides, if she had enough strength to flee and cover her tracks, he doubted she needed his help. He made it back to his home within ten minutes, which was good. Small skirmishes usually evolved into large battles. There were casualties on both sides, so both sides would demand a payment of blood. The night elves, absolute in their belief that these were their forests, would search the trees for any Horde they could find. And the Horde, needing the resources that the bountiful forest provided would demand they spill the blood of the selfish, greedy elves.
Taff had fought against the Sentinels and their Alliance comrades on more than one occasion. He had spilled blood, stained the grass with crimson, caved their skulls and broken their bodies, more times than he liked to remember. Who had the right's to the trees, he wondered. The night elves had taken to the forest first, or so they claimed. Were they here first, or perhaps they had stolen and slaughtered to claim trees as their home. After all, why would they record their own imperialism and aggression, as they stole the land from the native species, when they could simply let that dark secret die with the passage of time. They also said they were the first to practice druidism, yet tauren lore stated that his kind were taught the art of nature first. Selfish elves, they could never admit that an orc could equal, or even best them on the battlefield. They could never admit that trolls could move with as much grace and stealth as they as they silently moved through the woods. They would never admit that the tauren, his people, could grow as strong with nature as their greatest druids. Or that the blood elves' skill with the arcane rivaled their druidism.
And it wasn't as if the Alliance were above stealing land. How many times had he righteously slaughtered the imperialistic dwarves?
Taff scratched at the coarse fur on his ribcage. He didn't like night elves. They were always self righteous, always believed they knew what was right, and refused to acknowledge another's opinion. He didn't like night elves, even Lunn.
That thought gave him pause. He stopped walking, stood there, surrounded by trees, like a furry statue. How long had it been since she left? Mounted her jungle cat and rode off into the trees. Lunn. She didn't say good bye, just one day she was gone. She didn't deem him worthy of an explanation,
though he knew why she left. He still loved Lunn, but he didn't like her, not anymore, not after what she'd done.
His home, a small one story house, was out of the way enough that nobody ever bothered him. A passing Sentinel or outrider would assume that the shack belonged to a hermit and leave it be.
The grey bull knew that something was wrong, even before he opened the front door. It creaked loudly, giving any intruders ample time to find a nice, safe hiding spot. He made a mental note to do something about the whining springs before he stepped inside and set his rifle down in the corner.
Some tauren complained about the odor that blood elves excreted, the scent of the rotten magic they gorged themselves on, in the interest of staving off their addiction for a few more precious hours. Taff was aware of the smell, but it never bothered him, any more than the rank smell of decomposition that clung to Forsaken bothered him. He had spent time amongst a variety of creatures. Any offensive stenches quickly faded with the passage of time. He imagined his own smell offended some, perhaps even his close comrades during the early days of his military career, but they never complained. He didn't feel he had the right too.
He walked into the kitchen and retrieved a bag of dried meat from a cupboard, and chewed it between his dull teeth. He stayed like that a while, eating, stalling. He walked to the cool box and took a pitcher of water out, before chugging it down in a few heavy gulps. Then he turned around to walk back into the living room, but was met with the barrel of his rifle, the muzzle pushed under his chin. He wasn't surprised. He knew he shared his home with the blood elf, but he assumed she would sneak out when his back was turned, not steal his rifle and hold him hostage.
"Hands were I can see them," she ordered. She spoke in orcish, quite well in fact, which did surprise him. What few blood elves he knew spoke in common or their native tongue. Of course, that was a year ago. A year of assimilation was ample time to take up another language.
Taff put his hands over his heads. The blood elf pushed the muzzle into his cavernous nostrils. "Don't scream, don't fight. I have no problem with blowing your head off, tauren. Just stay calm and I'll be out of here."
"Thank you," he said.
"What?" she demanded.
"Thank you, you called me tauren. Usually in a situation like this, the hostage taker uses pejorative terms. Calling orcs greenskins, or my kind cows. We are not cows, our women have tits, not utters."
Confusion flickered in the elf's pale eyes.
"You don't use guns much do you?"
"What?" she asked again.
"The safety is on. The switch is right by the trigger. On the left side. No the left. The left. Let me." Taff snatched the rifle away, flicked the safety off and offered it back to the blood elf. She slowly extended a hand to take it, but the tauren playfully lifted it over his head, out of the petite female's reach.
"Sit down," he ordered.
Any idea of resistance melted away. The tauren towered over her. His arm was as wide as her whole body, his hand could swallow her whole head. She stumbled back into the chair, where she sat, not moving, not breathing for fear of angering the bull.
"Relax little one, I'm not going to harm you."
His words did nothing to ease her fears. She trembled every time he exhaled, his warm breath blowing over her.
"I used to know one of you, though she was a child, and you are clearly an adult. Her name was Cynthana. She was the baby sister of a comrade of mine. When we first met, it was a situation much like
this. She had survived one of the Alliance's slaughters, and was weak and scared of me. I can't really blame her, but I didn't harm her, and I won't harm you. Please, don't be afraid."
There must have been something in Taff's voice. In the slightest of ways, the blood elf eased her rigid stance, loosened the muscles in her back into a more comfortable position.
"Now, what is your name, unless you would like me to continue calling you little one?"
"Faye. Flamelight."
"Are you harmed, Faye Flamelight?"
A petite hand glowed with magical light as she rested her grip on her left side. "Broken rib."
She winced when Taff moved his hand to her, but calmed down when his hands glowed and healing touched her. "Shaman?" she noted. "I can heal myself."
"Of course you can. But perhaps you would accept my help." Taff stepped backwards and sat down in his arm chair, reinforced to support his weight.
"Who are you?" she finally asked.
"My name is Taff Wolfhoof."
"You're not of the Horde are you?"
"I used to be, but I am currently on extended leave."
"I thank you for your hospitality, but I have to go." The blood elf woman rose and walked past the bull. She opened the door slightly, peering to the outside, but suddenly slammed it closed. "They're coming."
"Who?"
"It's a night elf," she screamed. "I can't fight her. I dropped my armor and weapons, they were slowing me down. By the light, she'll kill me. She'll pick me apart. I don't even have a weapon."
Taff's large hands swallowed up either shoulder and he held her firm until she stopped her frightened struggles. "Push the wall inside the fireplace, it's a passage way. Stay there until I come for you."
He released her, and watched as the tiny thing scurried away, deeper into the house. From out of a closet, Taff retrieved his mace and placed it on his belt, before stepping out into the humid forest air.
"Greeting tauren," said the night elf politely.
"Greetings," he said with a slight bow. The night elf wore heavy plate and, as far as he could tell, was armed with a long saber clipped onto her belt. His eyes skimmed over the trees in an attempt to see if the night elf had any allies hidden, but he couldn't possibly be sure who was hiding in the shadows. More than likely, the night elf, arrogant as she was, would travel alone. That didn't mean she wasn't a threat, not by any means.
"Do you understand common?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am, to some extent."
"I know some orcish, if it would help."
She sighed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. A breeze blew through the forest, and her hair draped over her shoulders. Blue hair, purple pink skin. She had more than a passing resemblance to Lunn. But Lunn had several tattoos over her eyes, and this night elf's skin was clean of markings. Taff tried to remember if the tattoos held any significance or were just for appearance. He wasn't sure.
"No ma'am, thank you though," he said.
"I am Shisti Darkstep," she said, extending a hand politely.
"Taff," he said, returning the gesture, careful not to hurt the elf as he swallowed up her hand. "Taff Wolfhoof."
"Recently, there was a battle between my comrades and the invaders. A blood elf, one of yours, is known to be a survivor. Have you seen her? About 4'11, light build, a paladin. She is wanted for aiding in the aggression against our lands."
"I'm afraid I haven't seen her."
"There was one other survivor," the night elf continued. "A human, one of mine. She said she was aided by a tauren. Grey fur, wearing a sleeveless shirt and fabric pants. Visible scars on his exposed arm, suggesting a history as a soldier. Sound familiar?"
"Afraid not. You and yours tend to all look alike to me and mine. I'm sure that it's true, vice versa."
The night elf turned and took a few paces backwards. "I know the blood elf is here. I can smell her. I'm sure you can too. You and I, we're not so different. Their corruption, their stink, it gets under your skin. It plays with your senses, until you just can't take it any longer. You're not of the Horde. You're just a hermit. You owe nothing to a blood who stumbles upon you. Tell me where she is, and I'll be on my way. Otherwise." Her hand moved to her saber.
"I would rather this little conversation end without spilling blood, but if I need to kill you, I feed your body to my kodo. No body, no evidence you were ever here. Any more of yours come, I ask them to leave. And if they don't, Goliath gets another meal." He blatantly took his mace from his belt.
For a long time, neither moved. The tauren and the elf stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first hostile move. Taff was larger and stronger, his powerful frame could take dozens of blows before finally succumbing. The elf was quicker and swifter, and could avoid the tauren's attacks with ease. Climax would come with a single move, a single mistake that the rival capitalized on. Death would be swift and instant.
"If we fight, one of us will die, and I would prefer to avoid that outcome," Taff said. "I am a shaman. Death, any death, ways heavy on me. And I would rather not die, myself. Its not fun."
"I know you are harboring the fugitive. Give me the blood and I can be on my way. Please. I don't want to do this."
Taff stood there, his grip tightening around the mace's grip.
The night elf braced her legs and cupped both hands together, before thrusting the heel of her fists into the center of the tauren's vast chest. Pain exploded into him. Something cracked inside. The agony was devastating, but he had been hurt worse in his life, and he recovered faster than the night elf anticipated. He swung his mace, attempting to cave her skull. She was faster, and ducked the swing, but not the backhand that struck her across the jaw. He swung a left hook into her side, before taking hold of her around the left leg, and swinging her into the ground. She hit with a sickening crackle of popping bone. He paused for only a moment, the mace over his head and ready to crash down and crush her skull. His hesitance allowed the night elf to swing her leg up into his groin. A sickening wretch swept through him and brought him to his knees.
The night elf rolled backwards and to her feet, before pulling a dagger from her belt. She wanted to drive it through the tauren's skull, but he shifted to his side, and instead the blade found its way into Taff's left shoulder.
His huge hand swallowed up her middle and he pushed her to the ground, before leaning down with his full weight and crushing her torso between his palm and the earth. She gurgled a wet pop before succumbing to death.
It'd been a long time since Taff last killed someone. It hadn't gotten any easier. The spirit, weak as it was, quickly faded into oblivion, off to bask in the company of whatever goddess the night elf believed in.
Taff left the body where it lay and walked back into his home. The passageway in the fireplace yielded with a strong hit from his fist and the blood elf crawled forward on all fours. "She's dead," Taff said. "So it would be best if we get going."
"You're not of the Horde, not anymore," Faye muttered. "Why are you helping me?"
"I am of the Horde. I may not always hang their banner, and I may not always approve of what they do, but my heart belongs to the Horde. And you are of the Horde, so that makes us family."
With his index finger and thumb, he took hold of the dagger that still bore out of his shoulder and plucked it out. It was a toothpick more than an actual weapon, but the night elf knew exactly where to put it to inflict the maximum of pain. Blood bubbled out from the skin and matted down the grey fur. He tore his tank top off before bundling the cloth and dabbing at the deep gash.
The blood elf pulled a chair close and stepped onto the seat before resting her hands on the tauren's wound. "Its alright, I can heal myself," he said.
"Of course you can. But perhaps you would accept my help. I would rather not be indebted to you."
The gash was more superficial than anything else. It healed after a few moment under the blood elf's warm glow. Taff pulled a second shirt over his head before gesturing for the elf to follow him outside.
The night elf's armor didn't fit as snuggly as Faye would have liked. The deceased was much taller than Faye, with a heavier, leaner build. The chest was mostly bent out of shape from the weight of the tauren's embrace. Loose fitting legs and boots would do nothing more than slow her down. At last, she settled on the night elf's saber: long and thin and sharp as a dragon's tooth. She was vulnerable without armor, but should she die, it would be with a weapon in her hand.
The kodo's name was Goliath, and had been with Taff since the earliest days of his military career. Taff fed the great lizard a bloodpetal sprout, purchased the prior day from a local merchant, before saddling the creature and climbing up. "Come on," he ordered, extending his hand towards the blood elf. She took it, and was abruptly pulled up and placed behind the tauren. She struggled to wrap her arms around his broad middle, but couldn't quite make it. Instead, she took a grip of his shirt, and hoped that would be enough.
Given Goliath's size and the burden it carried, it moved with amazing speed, Faye guessed as fast as any steed or panther. In fact, she'd off fallen off if she didn't quickly take a firm grip of the tauren.
It was late in the afternoon when they set out, so darkness fell long before they reached their any Horde encampments.
"It's not good to stop," Faye said as she slipped off the kodo's broad back.
"It's worse to keep going. It's easier to ambush a moving caravan on a desolate road than a party who's dug in."
"This is stupid, we should keep moving."
"You're welcome to go," Taff offered. He gathered a few stray pieces of wood and piled them into a mound, before igniting it with a burst of flame magic. "Hungry?" he asked, producing a loaf of bread and mug of ale from his satchel.
"We are going to be ambushed, and we are going to be killed.
Taff sighed as rummaged through his bag. "Know what this is?" he asked, holding up a crudely crafted wooden sculpture. "It's a totem. Worthless to most, but to a shaman, it's a guardian."
The tauren moved the sculpture to his thick lips and breathed life into the hollow wood, before placing it on the ground. "It will warn us of any hostiles, no matter how quietly they may move. Now, are you hungry?"
Faye shook her head.
"You are hungry, perhaps just not for food. You're shaking. When was the last time you sated your addiction?"
The blood elf shifted nervously.
"Why not feed off me?"
"Last time I asked to feed off a comrade, he tried to drive a dagger through my skull. Our addiction isn't widely accepted by your kind."
"It was a druid, wasn't it. They're disgusted by you. But I am much more accepting than some of my comrades. I am offering my energy to you."
"You aren't like most tauren," she noted. "Most of yours don't like most of mine."
"Those are just the idiots among us. A halfway intelligent creature will judge you by actions and deeds, not stereotypes. You helped to heal the wound on my shoulder, and you didn't steal my magic. How are you at fighting."
She shrugged her thin shoulders. "I could take you."
The tauren chuckled, his warm, deep laughter rolling out and washing over Faye like thunder. "I may not look like much, but I'm wiry."
"You're a pretty big target. Put this sword right through your gut."
The tauren lifted his shirt to expose an old scar, perhaps a hand span wide, on his navel. "A Scarlet got me when I was stupid. He was stupider, cause he didn't finish me off when he had the chance."
The blood elf pulled her shirt over her head and twisted to display the scar on the right side of her upper back. "Bout three years ago, I ran a foul a duo of night elves. And as I was engaged with one of them, her buddy stabbed me in the back. That from the 'good guys'. I'll say one thing about you Horde, you try not to hide your dirty little deeds behind halos and just causes."
"Not always," Taff admitted. "You smell that?"
"Smell what."
"Nothing. Night elves use herbs to kill their scent. Not that I can smell anything over the fire and your scent. You should get some sleep."
"I'm not tired."
"Its eight hours until sunrise and we can move again. Are you planning to stay awake for that whole time?"
"When the Scourge ransacked Silvermoon, me and a few others fled into the forest in a desperate attempt to escape. Two days we moved, nonstop, never resting. I can stay awake just fine."
"When I was younger, I was taken as a slave by a tribe of centaurs. Day and night I had to cater to their every whim or I would find my throat slit. Are we just going to compare scars all night?"
Faye took a firm hold of her left arm and twisted, until it popped out of alignment. She allowed it to hang there, loosely swaying from side to side. "Considering this was done to me by an ogre, I consider myself extremely lucky," she said, before popping it back into place with a low groan of pain.
Taff smiled. "Long time ago, several years, when the Forsaken had just joined with the Horde, a show of good faith was called for. I was sent across the Great Sea, to work alongside the Forsaken. As a show of good faith, they wanted me to track down a pair of criminals, who's executed two of their own. Added to my team was an undead, Jonathon Eck. They claimed he was there to help us, in reality he was a mole to keep an eye on us.
"After a while, we find these two zealots, and we kill one and corner the other. And he pulls the ring out of an explosive on his belt. I didn't think, I just swing my arm and smacked Eck backwards as the idiot detonates the bombs. My heart stopped for two minutes before they could revive me. I'm still color blind in my right eye."
"We're like cockroaches," she mused. "Everyone hates us, but we just won't die. Do you think I'm pretty?"
Taff paused, examining the petite elf. "What?"
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
"Is that a trick question. Usually when a woman asks that it's a trick question."
"I think you're hansom. Usually I don't like bulls, but I think it'd make an exception for you."
"Are you flirting with me?"
"Normally I only ride epic mounts, but lets talk."
Taff chuckled that low, deep laugh again.
"You learn from a young age to pick out weakness. And you have a weakness for elves, don't you?"
"I used to know one," he admitted.
"A blood elf?"
"A night elf. Her name was Lunnesta Pantherfoot. Live and learn."
"How bout I teach you something?"
Faye stood up and slowly slinked in front of Taff, taking each step with care. She reached up and took one of the tauren's horns in each hand, before pulling his head close to hers. Even sitting, he towered over her. She had to stand on her toes just so her lips could brush his. Thick and leathery, nothing like a fellow blood elf's but she didn't mind all that much.
His heavy hands rose and wrapped around her waist, gently embracing her. She yelped slightly when his grip became too tight, but he quickly eased her free. He pushed her away, holding her under her arms and around the ribs, out at arm's length, like a parent would a child.
"What's the matter?" she asked, slipping out of his grip.
"I've only known you for a day. Don't you think you're going a bit fast?"
"I've never known a male to say things were moving too fast." She examined the bull, her head lazily flopping to one side and the other. "What's the matter?"
"I trust you," he snorted. "So I'm going to tell you something that I probably shouldn't. Lunnesta, Lunn, was a defector, from the Alliance. Her position wasn't extremely public, but she fought alongside us dozens of times. Probably would have stayed with us till the war ended, but she got pregnant."
"I didn't think that was possible."
"It wasn't my kid," he chuckled. "I was off on a mission, and she was doing me a favor."
Faye brushed her long hair out of her eyes but remained silent.
"She got taken prisoner by a troll, who liked her. After that, Lunn couldn't stay with the Horde. They would kill her, or at least the child. So she, and I, fled. What else could we do?"
"What happened to her?"
"Do you know what a miscarriage is?"
He looked to her, before shrugging.
"Sorry. Dumb question."
"I'm sorry," she said, extending a dainty hand and touching his broad shoulders, fingers sifting through the coarse, grey fur.
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't Lunn's fault. It was just an accident. Accidents happen. She left a while after that. Needless to say, something like that doesn't do wonders for any relationship."
Again, Faye reached up and took hold of Taff's horns, and again she brought his lips to hers. She was gentler this time, and brushed over him before withdrawing away. He put a hand at her back and gently pulled her closer. She resisted slightly, but it was purely token, and moved closer into an embrace, before wrapping her arms around his thick neck and holding him. Or perhaps he was holding her, since her feet weren't touching the ground.
He was so warm with muscle, and she breathed in his strong, furry scent.
"We're not in love, right?" he asked, his head draped over her shoulder, his warm breath blowing down her back.
"Course not," she giggled. "Just bored."
The vast tauren lay back, and the blood elf crawled on top of him, settling a little heavier onto his chest.
"This is so wrong," she laughed, before bringing her lips to his.
Hours later, the sun shown through the heavy leaves of the trees. Taff shifted his heavy weight so that his fur would bake in the sun more evenly. Only then did he notice the petite blood elf that lay beside him, nestled at his side.
"That was so wrong," he chuckled, as a thick index finger stroked her cheek, moved up her jaw line, and streaked across her forehead to remove the strand of hair that obscured her face. She was using his left pectoral muscle and fur as a pillow, one arm wrapped under and over his shoulder, and another draped over his torso.
Nude, her body was much easier to inspect. She was skinny, very skinny in fact, all skin and bones. It was a good thing he didn't roll over in his sleep or he'd have squished her without much resistance.
He nudged her hard, and she stirred, her head bobbing until her eyes opened and she pushed herself to all fours before crawling backwards. "That was so wrong," she muttered, holding her head. "At least I know why tauren cows are always smiling."
"There was a good chance that you'd of been torn in half. You must be pretty flexible."
Faye pulled her pants on and pulled her undershirt over head. She picked her saber off the ground and slipped it into the sheathe. "Where are the night elves?"
Taff dressed, and feed Goliath several bloodpetal sprouts and patted the kodo's side, before climbing onto the great creature's broad back. "You aren't important enough for the night elves to hunt you down. Just one little blood elf? They have lands to protect, forests to heal, innocents to hate."
Taff reached down and lifted the blood elf to the kodo's saddle. Again, she couldn't quite wrap her arms around his middle, so she settled on grabbing the sides of his shirt.
It was three hours of travel before they finally reached the Horde outpost of Splintertree.
Taff slowed his kodo to a hault as they reached the outskirts of the settlement. Sharp eyes noted the dozens of snipers, perched on the walls, that were slowly taking aim. Taff made the necessary gestures to display his allegiance before continuing forward and entering the walled fortress.
He guided Goliath towards the stables and climbed off, before helping the elf to the ground. Taff turned, and noticed the orc approaching him. Large in frame, though not as large as Taff of course, he wore scraped armor and a scar on his sloped forehead proudly. His skin was a shade of sea green, almost with a hint of blue. A large, heavy battle axe was rested on shoulder. Ready for battle.
"Who are you?" the orc grunted
"I am Taff Wolfhoof, former Blood Guard of the Horde."
"I am Conqueror Rutus Steelaxe. I see you brought one of my soldiers back." The orc looked sternly at Faye, who bowed her head, perhaps embarrassed.
"Take a day's rest. You will return to active duty tomorrow? Understand elf?"
"Yes sir," she said. A slight bow and she walked off, head kept low, until she reached the inn.
"Stupid elves," Steelaxe grunted. "Careless, foolish, reckless."
"Ridiculously powerful with magic," Taff offered. "Fluent in the Alliance's strategies. They're more useful than you give them credit for Rutus. Course, you didn't' like the Forsaken when we first started working with them."
"Just because my fears haven't been justified, yet, does not mean they are not rational. We know they have a plague. We know they have no qualms about killing civilians."
"Yet they haven't done anything. I trust Eck with my life."
"As do I, but the majority of them cannot be trusted."
"The majority can be, it's the few that can't be that you have to watch out for. And its those few that the Dark Lady will send on suicide missions."
The orc grunted. "You want some kind of reward for bringing her back?"
"No reward. It's my duty, to the Horde."
"You want a job?" the orc sneered.
Taff shrugged.
The orc placed a hand on the tauren's shoulder. "It's good to have you back commander. Aloos told me about your going AWOL and all. I hope you put whatever you had behind you."
Taff looked to the blood elf as she moved graceful moved to the inn. "Look to the future," he said.