First fan fiction, hopefully not last. Seemed rushed when writing, again hopefully it isn't. Only people I've had read my stuff are friends and I don't trust em. Anyways, have fun and enjoy ^_^. R&R
Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft or any of the wonderful things of Blizzard.
Aaaaand we're off!
The underbrush swayed slightly in the waves of breeze that blew through the vegetation. Huffing in painful breathes; a lone troll sprinted through the thick bushes, leaving a light blood trail in his wake. Trying to not create too much of an obvious trail for his pursuers, Zin'auk slowed to be careful not to break the twigs and branches of the bushes and lower trees. Exhausted, Zin flung his bulk against a thick trunk, quieting his breathes to listen for the reasons for his flight. He relaxed after not hearing anything and closed his eyes, sighing in relief.
His mind wandered to his predicament. Why had this gone so wrong? He thought. The safe house he blew was supposed to be full of munitions and should've blown the whole base sky high, but when his Explosive Arrow blew out the southern wall, only a small fire was the result of his efforts. To complicate things, guards had spotted him and scored a hit in his side with a poisoned arrow with a broad tip, awarding a thick stream of blood that nearly refused to clot. After removing the arrow and letting the blood flow, helping to clear the poison in the wound. The wound was unsurprisingly slow to heal and was just now starting to close, still pumping out slow spurts of thick blood.
A twig snap about twenty yards off pulled him out of his thoughts and the haze that threatened to drag him into sleep. They followed me a little slower than I thought, he mused, tricky bastards. Zin slowly pushed himself up and bolted forward with everything he had left in his tired legs. He heard shouts and what sounded like barking not far behind him. Moving without thinking, Zin pulled a trap from his belt that held a couple sticks of explosive with a thick cord coming out of one of the sticks. Zin strode over a dead log and dropped the explosive trap just behind the log. He counted eight seconds in his head before hearing and feeling the explosive going off behind him and listening to more shouts behind him made him grin and chuckle. Had he not been focusing on his brief success, he probably would have noticed the sound of running water below him. The only thing that brought him out of his musings this time was the absence of ground under his feet and the sudden feeling of falling. He reached out to brace for impact, but continued to feel the sensation of falling, the roaring of turning liquid coming up a little too fast for his comfort. Zin looked just in time to see his vision being flooded by water. The instant later his vision, and mind, went blanked, unconsciousness gripping him tightly.
The first thing that came to Zin was the smell: the smell of cooking. He slowly drew in a breath from his nose. Smelling the fresh fish being seared in a pan slammed into his mind, causing his mind to go into a brief moment of bliss. His mind worked on its own in terms of summing up his situation, the presence of cooking meant someone found him and hauled him out of the water. Slowly, his sense of touch came to him and he immediately realized he was bound. His wrists and feet were tied together with course hemp rope, earning him a feverish need to itch those spots. He gritted his teeth and resisted that strong urge.
He also felt the heat of the nearby fire to his front and cold on his back. Zin creaked an eye open to find a figure squatting in front of him, facing towards the fire and tending to the searing fish in the pan. From the shape of the figure, he immediately recognized the form of a male night elf, the thick shoulders and slender waist instantly giving him away. The amazing thing, Zin realized, was that the night elf's presence wasn't and still wasn't felt. Just from that, Zin figured this person wasn't someone he could sweet talk his way out of this. He looked up from the individual in front of him and looked just over the fire and stared directly into the eyes of another night elf staring at him just over the fire. The eyes held him there with a vice like grip, not letting him look away. They had a cat-like shape to them with a soft, silvery glow that captivated Zin. The beauty of the eyes caught him completely off guard. A flare up from the fire broke their staring contest and Zin looked away, rolling slightly backwards.
"Finally awake, I see. I still think we should've gutted you and made an example of you." A feminine voice spoke up when he moved his body for the first time. The voice startled Zin and he jumped a little, causing a light chuckle from the female behind him. He swiveled his head to look over his shoulder to find a third night elf in leathers squatting down next to him and grinning impishly at him. He felt a slight heat rise to his face when he looked at her. She too had very beautiful eyes and a very nice, angular face. Her hair was brought into a thick braid with leaves stuck in it periodically down the length. The color took him off guard as it was silvery white. Her markings over her eyes were simple, only a single slash looking line over each. Night elves always broke out something primal in Zin that he really never could explain, but had and often did indulge in that something when available. The night elf who spoke leaned in close to Zin's face and grinned wider, her eyes moved up and down his form, staying on his backside longer than her felt comfortable. That was when he became painfully aware that he was shirtless, his side wound was bandaged and he felt a dull ache in his left ass cheek. Focusing for a moment on the pain, he recognized it to be a shot wound; one of his pursuers must have clipped him good before the river took him out of range. Thankfully, though, his captures had redressed that part of him.
Zin gazed back at the elf who was still staring at him with a look he didn't really approve of, "If ya wanted whatcha lookin' at, then ya shouldn't of tied me up, sweet cheeks." He winked at her, speeking in fluent Darnassian. The elf's eyes widened and he heard a surprised squeak from across the fire. He laughed at the elves' surprised reactions, getting his desired effect. "Wha? Neva heard a beast like me speak a civilized tongue?"
The female now had a look of rage as he had taken her completely off guard and brought up the butt of a gun and hit him on his bandaged wound, awarding a shuddering gasp from Zin and leaving him twitching in pain. "Be easy with him, Erayla. His suffering was already great without you helping…" The deep, calm voice of the male elf broke through the now heavy atmosphere. The female's expression soften considerably at the voice of the male and she smiled coyly at the male across Zin and then shot Zin a deadly glare before stalking around his prone body and going to sit on the opposite side of the fire with the other elf. Zin sighed and turned back towards the fire.
The male was looking at Zin now, his golden eyes calculative when scanning Zin's face. Great, Zin thought, a druid. Then Zin noticed the symbol of the Cenarian Circle stitched into his shirt sleeve. Now he understood why he was alive and indeed not gutted out by any other night elf, specifically the one called Erayla. He chuckled at his good fortune. The male turned back around and started removing the blackened fish from the pan he was tending to earlier.
"Well, dinner is ready. Erayla, as somewhat of a punishment for earlier, come here and feed our friend. Be nice this time or I'll make you stay up for night watch." The male said with a slightly amused tone.
Erayla pouted at him, "B-but he provoked me!"
"No buts. Get over here."
"Aww…." She sighed and conceded defeat without another word and walked over to Zin. She cut the ties that connected his hands and feet together and sat him up roughly, grabbing one of his tusks to stabilize him until he gained enough balance. She scowled at him, "Stay upright, if you fall, I'm not getting you back up."
Zin growled back at her, having to sit slightly off kilter because of his wounded rump. Before he could fire a retort her way, she shoved a piece of fish into his face, startling him and nearly making him fall over, but he managed to stay upright. She looked at him over the hunk of fish with a scowl, "Eat." She said it flatly without emotion.
"Dun ya tink ya should break it up a leetle? I'm not the savage ya tink I am." He said, now in Common, with slight distain and further hoping to punish her.
Erayla groaned audibly and tore off a piece of the fish to feed him by hand, which surprised him that she didn't just shove the fish down his throat. She kept the food on her finger tips, almost afraid to touch the troll, especially his lips. Zin took the food greedily, chewing and swallowing slowly, the pain in his side not letting him gorge. He was able to eat the fish relatively quickly though. She lifted a water skin to his lips and he drank hastily. He sighed contently and leaned back, bracing himself on his palms behind him.
Erayla sighed in relief, a little more than disgusted with having to feed Zin. She wiped her hands on her pant legs and stood while turning around in one fluid motion to gaze over at the other two night elves. Zin followed her stare and noticed the night elf whom he locked eyes earlier was a female like Erayla. Her hair was the same color, but she left hang loosely across her shoulders. The markings on this one were different, also. These were much more intricate, looking more like the wings of a butterfly. Besides the slight differences between the two females, they were almost exact copies of the other. He guessed they were related, sisters even. Other than seeing the female for the first time, he noticed she and the druid were now sitting together, the female leaning against him. He glanced at Erayla's face and noticed obvious discomfort in her features. Cocking a hairless eyebrow, Zin wondered what could this mean. Erayla suddenly whimpered softly and sat down slowly, just a few feet off from Zin and began eating her dinner, looking into the fire the whole time.
Zin sighed softly and waited for her to eat, which took a while since she was in obvious distress. Once she finally stopped eating, Zin nudged her with his foot. She snapped her head at him, a little wetness in her eyes. "I gotta pee," He flatly replied to her wordless question.
She glared at him, almost making him believe fire was actually going to erupt out of her orbs and kill him then and there. She did this for much longer than he was comfortable with, but eventually stood up to ask the male to do it. When she looked over to them, they were much closer now and the female was just short of throwing herself at the male. Erayla stared at them in a trance, not moving other than fidgeting with her hands. Zin shook his head and cleared his throat loudly to break her out of her stupor. She turned, flustered and even more annoyed. "Get up," she hissed at him.
"I can't," he replied, not feeling threatened by her too much, though that gun not too far away didn't help him relax and his eye darted to it and back before continuing, "Mah legs be bound, woomon." He increased his accent to tease her.
She roughly cut the binds on his legs and picked up her blunderbuss, attaching a thick, wide blade to end of it. The sight of the blade made Zin a little uneasy. She walked over and hauled him to his feet and pricked her blade into his back and flatly said, "Walk."
Zin was more than happy to oblige and walked a little ahead of her as they went into the trees. He looked around him and instantly recognized where he was, Ashenvale. The thick trees and lush greenery made Ashenvale one of Zin's more favored places to soak his lines, but unfortunately he wasn't on vacation. They walked deep into the brush, the fire only a twinkling glint through the trees now.
"Stop, go here." She muttered under breath something else under her breath that Zin didn't quite catch. He shrugged and jumped, swinging his hands under his legs.
"Gotta unfasten da laces, mon," he said when she jumped back, startled, and nearly blew his head off. Unfastening his pants, he snaked himself out and leaned behind a tree, keeping himself from being exposed to her. He sighed as he let himself go.
Erayla grimaced when she started heard him relieve himself, sighing and slightly moaning all the way. This troll was trying to make her life hell and she knew it well. She had been opposed to keeping him around in the first place, knowing that he'd be more trouble than he was worth, if he had lived through his grievous wounds. Of course he had, she thought, he's a fucking troll…. She sighed and leaned against the opposite side of the tree. She hated being here now, seeing them flirt so openly like that. She was furious and heartbroken. This had been her last chance to impress Melvek into liking her enough so she could join with him, but no. Her sister, Isra, had to get in the way, again. When she saw them take no time in waiting to flirt while she fed the bastard troll, she felt wronged, betrayed. She wanted to run away, but knew she couldn't. She felt trapped then. Her mind returning to the memory, she felt her eyes watering up again and felt a tear roll down her cheek and drip from her chin, hitting the leaves on the ground with a sharp tap.
"Whatcha tinkin' about?" The rough, deep voice of the troll snapped her out of her thoughts. She swung around to point the gun at his head, nearly goring his face in the process. The troll leaned back to keep his pretty face intact and held up his hands in surrender. He was leaning sideways against the tree. "Eeey… Sorry to startle ya there."
She was still teary eyed and pretty emotional. "Shut up, you stupid bastard. If you hadn't been here, I…. I…" She couldn't get out the next words, her sobs making her unable to. She closed her eyes and let the tears come down freely, her ears dropping. She suddenly felt something softly touch her head and tilt her head up to look into the face of the troll. His eyes were different, half-lidded in a somewhat caring manor. She looked into his eyes for the first time since meeting him, noticing they were a prismatic mix of deep red and dark brown.
"Ya shouldn't cry like dat. It clouds ya pretty face." He said softly. "I was wondering why we come out so fah from camp. Tought ya'd put mah misery to an end. But I see now…" He let go of her head and stepped back.
Erayla looked at him and felt a boiling anger in her. What did this monster see? A damsel in distress? Something to be consoled by a halfwit, like him! She stopped crying and focused her rage and sadness at him and thrust her bayonet at him. She wanted make him bleed to death now, to make him suffer. Unfortunately, she realized this was the wrong thing to do, but she realized it too later. She watched in resounding horror as the troll, moved to block himself, putting his tied wrists in the path of her trust and the blade dug into the knots of the hemp rope. She silently cursed herself for being so stupid as one strand of the rope snapped and released.
Suddenly the eyes of the troll held no more kindness, no more understanding, only red hot fury that lashed out at her now that it was free. The troll swatted the gun away and slammed into her, knocking her a good few feet back and onto her back. She swiveled and took a deep breath to scream a warning to the other two, but just before she do anything, her face was pushed into the dirt. He dug a knee into her back, forcing the air out of her. She felt tear again leak from her eyes, in physical pain this time. She was roughly turned over and had the air knocked out of her. The troll straddled her waist and curled his legs to pin hers down while he grabbed her arms with one hand. Using the other hand to strangle her, keeping her from screaming, but kept her breathing.
"Now, leetle girl. Ya are gonna to leesten to what I say and do what I tell ya, ok?" He whispered this into her ear. He waited for her to respond. Erayla didn't have much choice but to nod. "Good. Now we'ya gonna get up and you're gonna turn around and go back. You should know by now that I can easily overpowa ya without much thought, so dun try anyting funny, got eet?" He eyed her and she nodded again. He jumped off her roughly and landed beside her. She laid there, stunned. He nudged her with a toe and she slowly got up, a little sore. "Turn," he stated flatly. Erayla slowly turned and began walking back to camp, she noticed the fire was barely visible and was almost gone. She heard the troll pick up her discarded firearm just before she felt a sharp pain at the base of her neck and felt her world vanishing, hearing the troll say, "Sorry girlie," just before she blacked out completely.
Zin knelt down next to the river bordering Ashenvale and Azhara, the Southfury. He cupped his thin hands and pulled fresh water to his lips, letting his lips sit in the water for a while before sipping to soak them. Feeling the cool liquid coarse down his throat made him sigh once he was through drinking, cooling him off from the inside and radiating out in waves of refreshing cold. Zin sat back on his heels, glancing over his shoulder, making sure no one had followed him.
Sighing, Zin looked down, his conflicted mind rifling through the events of the night's flight from the elves. After knocking out his favorite captor, he bolted off with her rifle and made his way quickly away from the camp, hoping to get far enough away so the other two gave up the chase. He was, for a moment, considering taking the girl with him, but she would only slow him down and give the other two a reason to follow him this far.
The sun hung high over the Southfury River, making the water surface sparkle with life. Zin looked longingly into the water, seeing a few fish in the current waiting to food to float by. He grumbled softly and stood up, wincing when he overstrained his wound on his left butt cheek. He growled again at himself and started off, heading north along the river. He needed to go back to the coast to get back to his boat and be off, away from this place. Maybe he could get some fishing in before he had to report back, he mused.
Suddenly, Zin stopped and looked down, feeling that he stepped in something different. Looking down, he saw he had stepped in a rather large track. He recognized the hoof print immediately: Tauren. Zin looked to his left and followed the tracks into the distance, noticed a multitude of other tracks. Dwarves, Goblins, a couple Blood Elves, one of them having a dog as a pet and a single female Troll print, he noticed as he counted the tracks. What an odd combination of people, he thought. He then looked closer at them, noticing that they were fresh, very fresh and they were in a hurry. He wondered why they would be in such a hurry to get somewhere. That's when he noticed another set of tracks, older tracks, Night Elf tracks. Shit. His eyes widened at the realization that the fresh tracks were from a tracking party. They were searching for him. Great, he thought. They were the bastards who shot him in the ass, the bastards who should be dead, but weren't. He slung the blunderbuss forward and looked down the barrel, seeing that it was loaded. Shit, one shot. He flicked a finger across the large knife on the front of the barrel, noticing it was relatively sharp.
He looked at the tracks again and followed them with his eyes, they were heading straight for the camp. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and took off as fast as he could, following the elf tracks back to camp.
Night had fallen when the flicker of the fire came to life in the camp. Having moved since the night before, the three Night Elves had cleared a new area for camp, the sun dropping below the horizon before they could attend to the fire.
Erayla rubbed her hands together, the friction warming her numbing fingers. She blew into them for added warmth, her thoughts trailing to the night before. She had failed to keep the troll they captured. When she had finally gotten back to camp, the others were in the middle of other activities and had barely noticed their absence. They did notice when the troll wasn't with her upon entering the camp, though. After questioning, Melvek decided to let him go and make for Forest Song.
As she started rocking back and forth on the log she was sitting on, her leg brushed against something soft. She looked down and saw the Troll's leather backpack. She leaned down and looked closer at it, noticing that it was quite old and worn. She lightly traced a finger over the top flap, feeling the suede feel of it. It was very well taken care of, not something she expected to see a Troll carry, at all. She looked around to see if the others were looking, noticing they had retreated to the other side of camp, again. She looked back to the backpack and unbuckled the flap, flipping it open. Her eyes widened when she saw the various bottles of thick green sludge sitting on top. She picked one up and sniffed it, nearly dropping it when the stench of death came off the bottle, her head buzzing. She put aside the bottles and looked inside again. She pulled out a long shaft with a groove cut through the center and ran the entire length of the shaft. She looked at it in wonderment, not even able to come up with a guess to its true purpose. She carefully set the shaft aside and rummaged through the pack some more, coming up with strange devices, food, drink, a few arrow shafts with swirling patterns carved into them and a nearly empty bottle of brown liquor. When she dove into the pack again, she bumped the log with her feet and knocked over something at the end of the log. Erayla shifted her gaze to the spot where the noise came from and saw the upper half of the Troll's bow.
Erayla scooted over to the fallen weapon, being careful not to knock over any of the many bottles she pulled out. When she brought the large bow up for a closer look, she gasped. The bow was much too elegant to be of Trollish or Orcish in design. It struck her as elven, but much more bold in design. The two polar ends were thin and fanned out that reminded her of fins on a fish. The center of the body of the bow was shielded in a metal hand guard that resembled the top of a falcon's head. Two blades pointed forwards towards the target from the upper and lower halves of the hand guard, framing the area where the arrows were nocked and fired. Forward of the arms, metal plates were strapped to the wood for much more strength in the pull. Erayla marveled at the bow and its superb craftsmanship, tracing the small runes that were carved into the wood. The bow was left strung, which Erayla furrowed her brows at.
She was about to unstring it so the memory in the arms would remain when Melvek strode over to her and stood in front of her patiently. She looked up at him, "What?" She said this a little more bitter than she really intended.
"We need fire wood, Era. Sorry to send you out late, but would you-"
She cut him off, holding up a hand, "Yeah yeah, I'll get going." She stood up and set the bow down, picking up her curved short sword. She found her hand axe and rope before setting out from camp. She looked over at her shoulder to see her sister and Melvek already making out, maybe she'd stay out longer than she planned.
Erayla coiled the rope around the small stack of wood she had harvested from the fallen tree she had just come upon. She had come quite a ways from camp, the light of the fire wasn't visible anymore and hadn't been for a while. Erayla's eyes saw quite well in the pitch darkness, but the thick blanket of shadow that surrounded her still made her skin crawl a little.
She strapped the bundle of wood to her back, hooking the axe to her waist, opposite the sword. Erayla blew a strand of silver hair that fell into her vision and started her trek back to camp. Slowly, the flicker of the fire came into view through the trees. She huffed out a sharp breath when she saw figures, her companions, stand in front of the light, blocking it from her view.
A loud shout from the direction of the camp, brought her to sudden halt. Her ears perked up, hoping to listen to the conversation. There was more shouting and a scream that Erayla recognized as her sister. Growling, she ran forward towards the camp. Panic set in when she noticed more than two figures around the fire and the shouting got louder, much louder. Just before she broke through the tree line into camp, something heavy slammed into her and knocked her down to the ground. She lifted her head up to scream, but found herself screaming into a large, calloused hand.
Zin pressed the squirming elf into the ground harder, trying to quiet her. He bite her ear to stop her thrashing. It worked, but she still had a furious tremor coursing through her body. He let go of her now bleeding ear and leaned down, grunting softly when she sunk her own teeth into his palm, going well past the skin.
"Listen, girlie. Ya need ta calm down a bit befoe you get keeled." He leaned off of her, his hand still in her mouth.
She side glared daggers at him, not willing to forgive him for stopping her vengeance. He rolls his eyes in response, "Ya can let go now, womon." She glared harder and slowly let go of his hand, spitting out his blood as if it was poisonous.
She suddenly surged to leap into the fray of the camp, which was slowing down as the raiders had taken the two elves by surprise and were tying them up, but Zin grabbed her and with relative ease he pushed her back into the ground, the wood bundle giving way and scattering. Zin pulled her back to his side, she wasn't thrashing like she didn't earlier, he realized, thank the Loa.
"We be as good as dead if ya goin' ta just run in, elf. Do ya have ammo fa dis ting?" He whispered to her, gestering to the gun strapped to his back.
She looked at him as if he'd slapped her hard, but nodded slowly.
"Good, can I trust ya not to shoot meh in da back?"
"That I can't guarantee…" She slowly let through her teeth, he imagined she was imagining him being gutted or being shot. She probably thought he brought these people to them, he thought, which was true, unintentionally.
Zin sighed, "Look, ya can shoot meh after all dis is done… If we make it through, make that your goal if ya want. I need ya to pick off da stragglers on the outer edges of da camp. Draw them away through the forest, ya have much bettah eyes dan dem, make quick work of dem. I'll take da heads of da leadahs. Good?"
Erayla, he recalled, lessened her hard expression and nodded, looking from him to the camp. She scanned the many raiders and sighed, looking back at him with a scowl. Zin smirked slightly and pushed the gun into her hands, "Eet still loaded, girlie."
He made to get up so he could get positioned somewhere out of the way, only to have the elf grab his wrist and hold him. He regarded her with surprise, she was putting the sword she carried into his palm. He took the sword and looked over it to see it in quite good condition. "Tanks…" was all he could get out through his surprise.
"What's your name?" She asked softly.
Zin quirked an eyebrow and looked at her with surprise, "What? Why be so interested now? Hmm?"
"I'd like to know your name if I have to carve it on your grave should you fuck up." She said flatly and without hesitation.
Zin almost laughed, holding himself and only allowed a toothy grin appear on his face. "Zin'auk at ya service, m'lady." He bowed slightly. "Just call meh Zin."
She wasn't very much amused by his humor and stood slowly, shouldering the blunderbuss. "Well… Zin, I'm ready when you are."
"Good, let me go, den wait a minute or two, den fire at will. Make sure ta not get keeled, I haven't finished annoying you, yet." He grinned and turned around before she could give him a glare or a retort.
Zin slinked away, keeping just out of the firelight. He gripped and twirled the blade around in his hand, testing its weight and balance. It felt good to him, a little small, but well balanced.
He stopped when he had gotten to the far side of the camp, nearly directly across from Erayla, if she didn't move. He leaned up against a tree and peered around it into the camp. He then noticed the dog with one of the Blood Elves. He forgot about the dog and hit himself for it. If Erayla didn't shoot the dog first, she would probably get caught. Shoot the dog, elf, he thought, Pleeeaaase shoot the dog!
Silence fell on the camp and the surrounding area. Nothing seemed to move, as if waiting for the soon to come gunshot. Zin bent down behind the tree and waited, picking up some rocks in the dirt and holding them in his free hand. Slowing his breath down, he waited…. And waited. He started wondering what Erayla was up to that kept her so long.
A sudden CRACK shocked him from his frustrations. Peering over at the camp, he saw most of the trackers run off towards the opposite side of forest, towards the trap that is Erayla. Grinning when he saw the body of the tracking dog lying in the middle of the camp, Zin crept out from behind the tree and stalked toward the camp and the two remaining trackers in the camp watching over the two elves. The massive bull was focused on the repeated shots and shouts coming from the shadowed forest. Zin managed to crouch behind one of the fallen logs that surrounded the fire that served as benches. Peeking over the log, he saw the Tauren standing now. He looked across the fire and was talking to the other figure across the fire.
Zin exhaled, positioned the sword so he could stab downwards and struck. He surged over the log and used it to jump up. He landed on the bull's back before the massive Tauren realized what was happening and thrust the sword downward as hard as he could, feeling the sword bite into the flush and hit something hard. Zin pressed hard into the bone and then leaned back, using his weight, and twisted the blade as hard as he could. The blade caught on something and stuck. Zin pulled again and felt and heard a resounding pop come from the bull's neck. The body he had landed on and had begun to attempt to throw him off went slack. Pulling the blade free and jumping down, he let the body fall to side and rolled backwards.
His body struck something that bounced off the log, hitting him in the back of the head, and landed on the ground next to him. Groaning and rubbing the back of his head, Zin looked to see his beloved weapon lying on the ground next to him. How he'd not noticed its beautiful curves before, he didn't know. Without thinking, Zin snatched up the bow and looked frantically for an arrow. He lunged at one sticking out of the ground, rounding the fire somewhat and startling the figure behind it. He freed the arrow from the soil and nocked it in on fluid motion, swiveling on the balls of his feet, pulling the arrow and bumped his tusk with his hand, pointing at the sound of commotion. He froze, the female Troll leader had the female Elf stood up and hid behind her, her face resting on the elf's shoulder. He guessed there was a knife at the elf's back. Little slashes covered the elf's arms and a particularly deep one had pierced through the white priestess robes into her left hip.
Although it concerned him, the elf's condition was not the reason for his sudden halting. "Shi'din?"
The female Troll, Shi'din, laughed, "So. Ya finally deeside to join us, eh? Been awhile, Zin."
Zin glared death at her, "It was you, ya leetle bitch!" His arrow became trained on her forehead.
"And what exactly did ah do?" She smugly rested her chin on the elf's shoulder and grinned at Zin.
He growled at her, looking at the Night Elf's face and to the terrified cat-like eyes. Her arms were tightly bound to the side. Zin glanced behind them at the unconscious male behind them. He was covered in bruises, most likely from the fight earlier with the tracking party. Zin looked back at Shi'din, who still was grinning smugly at him. "How long?"
"How long what?"
"Dun fuck wit meh, womon! How long!" His rage was beginning to boil over, but he forcibly pushed it down. Rage wasn't going to save anyone now.
She chuckled, "Awww…. No foreplay? Fine, two years."
He almost loosed the arrow there, almost. "Loyalty dun mean nutin to ya? People who took ya in? Ya backstabbing whore!" He was roaring by the end of this.
She grinned wolfishly at him, "We work fa da same mon, mon. Da cartel works fa money, why should we hold ourselves to any code of hona? Hm? Ah was offa'd a betta deal, and ah took eet."
"Isra!"
Zin's ears perked at the sound of the elf's voice, but when he saw Shi'din lose focus on him for a brief moment, he loosed the arrow. The arrow struck before she could react and buried itself into her temporal lobe, she was dead before she hit the ground.
The bound Night Elf started to fall forward as Shi'din's body started to fall back, Zin caught the elf, checking her back for anymore wounds before gently setting her down on the ground, face up. Tears were streaming down the sides of her head, quiet sobs coming in droves.