Chapter Two

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"Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright that God may love thee. Speak the Truth. Even if it leads to your Death. Safeguard the helpless. That is your oath,"

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"Damned Furball!" cursed Harrold mentally. As strong as he is wielding his favored longsword and wearing armor all the time. The bear-like-thing nearly dropped him to his knees by that single strike with its paw. Of course with the thing three times his size even in full armor, he should have expected it. Why in the world did that girl even try to attack this thing?

"Sir Harrold!" Harrold cursed as he turned his head to see his apprentice charging with his own sword swinging in arcs over his head.

"Damn you Colin! Get away!" shouted Harrold too late as his apprentice thrusted his sword with a yell at the thing.

It didn't have the intended effect of hurting the monster as it roared at the new interloper swatting the blade away with one of its paws nearly sending his apprentice toppling down as he lost his balance. Still it has the unexpected side effect. Temporarily freed Harrold from the deadlock between his longsword and its paws as it moved its weight when it faced his squire, Harrold yelled a challenge as he pulled himself back from the remaining paw making the bear monster nearly topple down headfirst as the leverage that is Harrold suddenly disappear. Wielding the heavy longsword two-handed, Harrold didn't waste the chance as he slashed in a downward stroke with all his strength at the bear monster's back of the neck before it recovered.

He grinned beneath his helmet as he heard the satisfying crunch as sharpened metal sank beneath meat and bone, the longsword buried halfway on the longsword's blade. He immediately frowned though as no blood poured from the wound of the bear.

Harrold nearly lost his footing and he had to let go of the longsword as the bear lurched upward in such speeds jaws frothing in anger looking not the least fazed with the longsword buried on its neck. One eye glaring in madness, it immediately swiped the knight with its paw. The sound of chain mail ripping filled the forest and Harrold coughed blood as he felt the gashes made by the claws of the bear that passed through his armor like water.

"What is this thing?" asked Harrold aloud to no one as he drew the kite-shaped shield at his back and the standard sword of the crusaders at his hip. Though inwardly he can't help but wonder what good it will do if the longsword can't even penetrate its hide.

Looking at the creature in its remaining eye which is currently trained on him as it pawed the ground like an angry bull, Harrold readied himself shield first knowing that he can't take another hit on his half-armor with the thing's paws. It could rip him in half if he allowed it.

Roaring loudly that Harrold is sure that the entire island heard it, the creature charged with its two hind legs bounding in speeds that even he did not expect. It would have looked funny with its stubby length, except for the fact that it didn't look funny at all especially with it frothing in the mouth and paws raised with claws large enough to disembowel a horse and a rider with one strike.

"TWANG!" the Grandmaster of the Templar Order spared a glance at his huffing apprentice who looked muddy kneeling on the ground with an empty crossbow at his hands.

The sudden sound of string smacking wood suddenly sounded the air in an echo and Harrold watched in amazement as his squire's crossbow bolt pierced the bear thing's remaining eye making it roar in agony though it didn't divert its path despite it being blind. In fact in Harrold's opinion, it even became even more dangerous since it might trample him to grease. What he didn't expect was for the green-haired scantily armored woman to suddenly appear on the bear thing's back, her landing forcing it to stumble a bit as she buried a knife on the thing's frothing mouth making it how before shifting her attention on pulling the longsword of his buried on its hide. He could practically see the muscles straining on her lithe frame as she pulled the two handed weapon before a yell left her lips as she kicked off the monster throwing the sword to him in the process midair as she crashed on the ground as the monster still blindly charged in his direction.

Body moving before he can even think, a product of years of experience of fighting Saracens. Harrold dropped the sword and shield as he skidded on the earth grabbing the longsword falling at his direction with one hand before planting its hilt at the ground as he awaited the bloody and blind bear beast to crash into him. And crash it did.

With a sickening crunch, the monster howled in agony as it stumbled into him, the point of the blade piercing its throat sending rivets of blood as the monster's own weight drew its own bane in as Harrold gritted his teeth as the man and a half long sword pushing him slowly back on the muddy river ground, his steel boots skidding on the wet patch of Earth.

Despite the blade nearly buried halfway down on the beast's neck, it still moved; its paws waving back and forth as it choked on its own blood trying to dislodge the irritating weapon on its neck and at the same time hit the thing that is wielding it. Harrold didn't buckle. Eyes fixed with determination, he held on to the weapon even as the paws of the bear got nearer and nearer to his face.

"How long does this thing takes before it dies?" thought the Knight to himself as the front part of the bear monster looked like someone had carved it with the way the red stains marred its body from the wound on its throat.

Then finally the Furlbog roared in defiance one more time before coughing and stopped dead with the longsword still buried on its neck.

Panting from the effort of stopping the mad bear on its tracks, Harrold leaned and pulled the longsword out with a small squelch making the dead body crash to the ground with a small earthquake.

"Grandmaster! Grandmaster!" his squire's voice sounded suddenly from his side making Harrold look up letting off an eye smile at the sixteen year old who skidded at his side with the crossbow strapped at his back and his own sword strapped back to his waist. He looked nothing worse for wear though his armor had a huge rent at the side that must have taken the brunt of his fall and would need a good cleaning. Unlike Harrold, he had no helmet and the Grandmaster of the Templar Order could see several bleeding scratches on his squire's face.

"Hey Colin, are you alright?" Harrold asked tiredly leaning on the longsword that he planted point first on the ground. He'll never admit it out loud else his young squire will hear; but Harrold had been nearly drained by that fight against the monster. As mad as it is, the beast had tired him out. "Good shot by the way,"

"Yes sir and thank you sir!" saluted the young knight, his crossbow dangling on his belt before relaxing to look at the dead bear-like creature which is still lying on a pool of its own blood. "What is that thing sir?"

"Christ if I only know," answered Harrold staring at the corpse the same as his young squire. "However if I'm right. The ladies we saved know more about these things than we do," added Harrold looking at the two women who are only a few feet away from them.

Don't get him wrong, Harrold was no stranger to the beauties of women. He had seen many in his career of being a knight, and especially later when he was promoted to Grandmaster. With Europe succumbing to lack of funds and poverty; the gap between rich and poor even lengthening, knights and young nobles were a primary target for single young women in order to escape the poverties of life.

Of course with Harrold being a son of a castle Lord, the moment he got of age women immediately fell on his feet stalking him like lions on a gazelle waiting only for a moment of weakness before pouncing. It was worse when his father knighted him. "Heroes" were a primary target for ladies both noble and lowborn. It was a relief actually for him when he went off to Jerusalem to be a knight. Declared a holy city by King Baldwin the Second, Harrold found peace there momentarily from women where he built his career to be a Grandmaster. When Jerusalem fell and Acre became the Christians' main city, it all went to hell. The city was full of brothels and the streets were lined with whores that can entice even the most noblest of knights to settle down. With Harrold being the Grandmaster, it was like living with a cooked steak at your back with hounds following you. So yes, Harrold was used to the beauty of the opposite sex. Not that he's gay, more than once he had been tempted by the notion of simply leaving the war and quitting the Order every time he looked out of his window and see the rich and the powerful, people he had to protect on the city bully the poor, looking to them as nothing more than animals. It would be so easy to simply throw in the towel, find one of the prettier girls (which Acre had in abundance), promise her a good life and go home with her and marry her off.

The only reason that he won't was the simple fact that he doesn't want to leave the people of the city to the tender mercies of the other Orders who ignored their vows when they want to and lead a life of debauchery. However every time someone fights back to them, they would use their status as knights to either execute the person on the spot or beat him or her and leave. The guards can't stop them, they're knights after all. It would take a knight to stop a knight. Harrold made sure the Templar kept the peace until the fall of the city.

However right now looking at the two exotic women. Harrold's mind for a moment lost all thoughts of sense and honor as he openly drooled on them. He'd never seen such beauties like that before and that would be saying something really if based on his experience.

If he was at his right mind though, he would have stayed away normally. The two exotic beauties in front of him are scantily clad in their armor to the point of vulgar, women that Harrold would have slit himself on the throat first rather than talking the first time in his life, is enamored.

The older who is right now helping the younger one stand had green hair with streaks of sky blue that fell to her butt. Unlike the women at his old home, her hair is messy and even had leaves on it. However her face looked exotingly lovely to look at despite the glowing silver-hue eyes which had a steel on them, the proof that this woman is a warrior and had seen men and women die. Her skin is the deepest shade of somewhere between violet and blue looking like it is bathed in old glistened on the afternoon sun. It didn't help that the graceful armor she is wearing only covered her shoulders, her chest which hugged her breasts quite treasonously if the size of it jutting out is not proof enough, and her crotch with a loincloth to cover the armor there showing off nearly everything else. The tattoos on her eyes and the small circlet with a crescent moon on her head made her even look more beautiful. Her body is obviously worship-worthy and Harrold despite his honor and oaths are unable to pull his eyes away from her alluring curves that hooked him like a starving fish,

Her companion had the same attire as her, the only difference is that her eyes still had the innocent circular look on it that teenagers have that had not seen Death face to face. Unlike her older companion, her hair only reached her shoulders colored a bright neon and she had no tattoos on her face like the one that Harrold is enamored with. Her skin is also dusty purple and pink with a violet tinge, nothing like the other one.

The Grandmaster of the Templar Order would have approached them already and oaths be damned, get to know the green-haired one if not for the elongated sharp ears these two women had that immediately marked them as not humans. Though in Harrold's opinion, it only made them look good even he is fighting off the urge to take a nibble on the pointy end of his new crush.

"Fandu-Dath Belore," the musical voice of the green-haired one snapped Harrold out of his thoughts and he immediately loathed himself for thinking of such things. Making a mental note to make a penance for his lust the moment he got himself back to camp, he nearly missed his squire's words pointed at him.

"Sir, what are they? And what is she talking about?" asked Colin, his hand gripping his knife on the belt.

"At ease Colin," ordered Harrold though he himself are nervous as he stared at the two women who looked ready to bolt staring at them, stories of witches, demons and warlocks that the priests are preaching at the temples filling his head. Still, he's going to heed the words he ordered the Ponce about meeting new species. Not that he can raise his sword against a beautiful woman...or whatever the hell these things are.

He didn't miss the green-haired one's hand not leaving her bow with an arrow knocked into it. With the easiness that she is handling it, Harrold would bet his sword that she can draw and fire in a heartbeat.

"Fandu-Dath Belore," repeated the green-haired one though this time Harrold could hear annoyance on her tone.

"What are they talking about sir?" Colin asked again at him.

"No idea," muttered Harrold pulling his long sword out of the ground just in case. "Maybe you could try pantomiming,"

"Me sir?" squawked the young boy immediately blushing to the roots of his hair as he glanced at the two scantily clad beauties.

"Yes, you're good at pantomiming. Now go and tell them, we are friends and not enemies," nudged Harrold to the nervous kid.

"Okay, okay. Yes sir," stuttered Colin stepping slowly towards the two breathing deeply.

"Me!" Colin indicated his self approaching closer to the two.

"No!" he waved his finger back and forth, Harrold resisted the urge to face-palm himself,

"enemy!" this time he almost dived at the river in shame as his squire made monster faces at the two making the younger one squeak and hide at the green one's back as the other one's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Apparently Colin noticed this too for he immediately acted again.

"Me!" he indicated the same action as before.

"Friend!" he made a hugging gesture to the green-haired woman and unfortunately this time, he obviously indicated the wrong action for the beautiful woman who is close enough for contact immediately kicked him on the nuts with thunderous force,

Even Harrold clutched his jewels protectively as his squire exhaled all the Helium that he had on his lungs as he crashed moaning in pain at the forest floor.

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"Where is Malfurion when you need him?" Tyrande mentally mourned as the offending person went down like a sack of potatoes in front of her. What she would give to have the Arch-Druid and her ex-suitor at her side right now. Unlike her, he could communicate to outsiders than she ever could. Tyrande's policy about unwanted visitors after all is "shoot a little; then ask,". And these people covered in plate in her opinion are very unwanted. This is her personal island. How dare they trespass here?

She had been badly offended by the young one writhing on the ground right now when he made the gesture of hugging her. Who in their right mind would ask for a woman not mated for physical contact in such a lecherous way? Her opinion on the two which had been rather high when they took down the Furbolg went plummeting down after their failure to establish communication with her.

"My lady, are they males?" whispered Arko'Narin at her back, making Tyrande look at the young Night Elf looking quite curiously with her big doe like eyes peering at the two well, she had no idea what they were.

"Yes, Arko they are," responded Tyrande before drawing in a heartbeat her bow pointing at the warrior who killed the Furbolg as she heard him take a step forward.

The priestess of Elune if truth be told are incredibly reluctant on fighting him for a couple of reasons. The first and foremost is the fact that he just took down a mad Furbolg with nothing more than that pointy thing with a little help. While Night Elven Sentinels can take down the beasts without much trouble all the time. It takes a hunting party at least of five in order for it to succeed without much risk. Yet this person had brought down one with that overlarge sword of his. She'd never seen a weapon like it in her long years of life. Sure he may had their help, but the fact remains still that he did all hard work. Fighting something as fierce as that is not exactly high on the Night Elf's to-do-list for the day.

And second reason is that either she liked it or not, he just saved Arko'Narin whom Tyrande cared more than a normal apprentice or master relationship. She almost became a surrogate mother for the orphaned elf, being there for her ever since she was young. Intervening from the possible death that her student might have gotten if he did not jump between her and the Furbolg, he accidentally put Tyrande in debt with him for Arko's sake. And Tyrande always pays her debts.

And a small part of her can't help but admire him. It is plain obvious that he had no idea what they are judging from:

A.) The difference between their languages

B.) The confusion of his eyes when he saw her ears.

He immediately began speaking to her in his own language which in Tyrande's opinion is a little rough compared to the dialect of her people as he take another step forward in her direction.

"Tyra I'm scared," whimpered Arko' behind her, the Night Elf priestess not even recognizing the fact that she had taken a step back as the armored figure took another step forward. "Please! Can we go home? What are they?"

"Not yet," Tyrande gritted her teeth as the tensing of her arms on her bow strengthened when he drew the long blade that he had used to kill the Furbolg from his back, its blade and edges still stained with its black blood.

"That thing could cut me in half in on blow," thought Tyrande as she stepped back even further to avoid the length of the blade. She nearly jumped in surprise though when he threw the weapon at her feet, the heavy blade clanking on the ground. He did the same with the sword at his side that he pulled from his belt and also a dagger before raising his hand indicating that he had nothing left.

"What is he doing?" thought Tyrande as he approached them again softly making soothing sounds on his own language. "Is he so stupid on dropping his weapons? Or is this a gesture that he doesn't want to fight? Aarrrgh! Furion! The moment you wake up from your sleep, I'm going to beat you for not being here when I need you the most!" cursed Tyrande mentally before finally lowering her bow. She didn't miss the relieved relaxing of the person's limbs as her weapon went down.

"My lady, what are you doing?" asked Arko' nervously at her looking at her relaxed stance.

"He does not want to fight," spoke Tyrande looking at the armored figure who seemed to be fumbling for something at the back of his neck. "At least I don't think so," she added. Tyrande won't place it past an outsider not to stab her on the back after she put her defenses down.

However all her thoughts about backstabbing and treacherous people immediately went flying down the proverbial window as the person removed his rounded helmet revealing the most handsome face she had ever seen. Much, much more handsome than her previous suitor.

"By Elune," thought Tyrande gasping inwardly as she for the first time in many millennia gazed at another male. Ever since the men have went to sleep on their Barrow-Dens to join the Emerald Dream, Tyrande almost forgot what they look like. It didn't help that her student gargled like a drowning fish when she saw for the first time a representative of a male specimen which in Tyrande's opinion is a good example at the moment.

He had jet black hair with streaks of gray that must have come from stress that is wildly unkempt. His face is stern and proud, proof that he is a leader of some sort. His ears are rounded unlike hers and Arko's for some reason. His nose well-looked a bit crooked like someone had punched him and broken it. A long scar adored his right temple to his right jawline making the priestess of Elune guess that a dagger had wounded him there. However the most alluring that the moon Priestess found on this person is his eyes. He had the most green she had ever seen. Greener than even some of the Druids that served on Cenarion's inner circle. She found herself drowning in on them unconsciously. They had a kindness in them, but also steel and sorrow. Who and what is this man?

She was too busy contemplating that she nearly missed the sudden flash of light that came from his right hand. Arko' screamed without warning and even Tyrande cursed as she backpedaled, nearly barreling her student as the silver light hit her straight in the face.

Immediately the Night Elf felt dizzy as her brain seemed to turn to mush and she got the most horrible headache she ever had as she lost her balance and crashed to her side and before Tyrande knew it, vomit her entire lunch and breakfast this day on the ground as the pounding on her head grew. She barely acknowledged her student screaming her name in fear and worry at the background before it was followed by a yell of fury.

"Arko," Tyrande moaned weakly struggling on all fours to stand up as she leveled her blurry eyes to her student who had her knife drawn and are attacking the male with such ferocity, tears dangling from her eyes while she shouted profanities so colorful that Tyrande made a mental note to herself to wash her student's mouth later with soap on the nearest moonwell she could find.

"Stop goddamn it!" cursed the male as he dodged Arko' again using his greaves to block the more faster and agile elf who danced around him, trying to find a hole on his defense. Tyrande coughed as she finally got her legs under her, her body swaying precariously as she leaned on a rock. She might have been proud of her student's skills if not her worry and pounding head as she watched the male study Arko's movements before blocking her next thrust before binding her knife arm to her back as he pulled her body to his with her back pressed on his armor while his other arm held her neck.

Red immediately filled Tyrande's eyes seeing her student so molested. How dare he touched her student? The Night Elf priestess ran or to be more exact wobble in a zigzag manner towards them nearly falling again in the process if not for the male letting go of her student by pushing her smaller frame off of him before running towards her direction and catching her as she felt herself lost her balance and face plant to the ground.

"You women are a nasty piece of work you know that?" his voice laced in annoyance and amusement was registered by her long ears.

Immediately Tyrande froze like a statue as her blood turned cold. For a moment her brain resisted the fact that what she heard, she just heard. Her ears insisted that the sound it heard do not belong to her imagination, but real. She can understand him.

"What? How?" Tyrande can't help but look at those beautiful green eyes which is filled with amusement at her broken words.

"Magic," he said simply with a cheerful voice not noticing that the gorgeous Night Elf woman in her arms looked alarmed as an elf ever could be.

"Arcane?" It took all of Tyrande's self-control not to panic. Night Elves didn't essentially hate magic, but they do hate Arcane Users that created the Sundering during their war against the Highborn.

His eyebrows merely rose in a questioning manner. "Is that what you call magic here?"

Tyrande had no idea how to answer. The magic arts isn't especially her specialty. That field belongs more to Malfurion and Illidan, her childhood friends. Sure she had seen all kinds of magic, Azeroth is literally full of it. Even the servants of the Temple have their own brand of magic to be used either in purifying things, healing or fighting. Ashenvale itself is a forest filled with the power of magic thanks to Cenarius' presence in the vicinity and the presence of the Night Elves themselves. Still, that doesn't mean that this person isn't dangerous.

Sparing a glance at the person again, Tyrande knew more than enough on that single glance that this is someone not to be trifled with. She may not be a bigot about outsiders like some of her kin, but Tyrande is not that trusting of strangers too. In fact if truth be told, she's downright suspicious of them. However something tells her that this stranger right now is not someone she would want to raise her bow against.

"What did you do to me?" Tyrande finally surrendered to her curiosity. It was better that she dig a little information about him before picking a fight.

"What do you mean?"

"Why can I understand you when a few minutes I can't?" asked the Priestess.

"Oh, that." he actually laughed rubbing his hands on the back of his head sheepishly. "That's a simple translation spell. Makes the words that come out of your mind understandable in my language and vice versa. I had no idea though why you reacted the way you did. It's essentially harmless and ...painless. Sorry about that by the way, I didn't expect that would happen,"

"GET OFF HER!"

"Wha-?" the male magic practitioner barely finished the word before a blur of violet and pale pink suddenly tackled him out of nowhere making Tyrande gasp in alarm as she suddenly fell at the ground. She had completely forgotten that he had been holding her while they are talking. Oh Arko', won't let her live that down.

Now with most of her senses returning and the headache almost non-existent, Tyrande stood with catlike grace as she tried to look at her apprentice and the she saw would have been funny then if not for the fact that her neon-haired apprentice are snarling like a demented frost saber as she tried to claw the stranger's eyes with her fingernails.

"How dare you touch my lady?" snarled Arko' her fangs showing through her lips as she tried to literally beat the male stranger in any way she can. "Nobody hurts her without going through me first!"

"Arko stop!" Tyrande tried to call out in warning as a red light flashed suddenly from the stranger's hands nearly hitting her student who moved her head off as the two continued rolling on the dirt.

"Get this girl off me!" hissed the green-eyed stranger at her and it was painfully obvious that he is doing his best not to fight back her student attacks.

Moving in catlike grace, Tyrande leaped at their side grabbing Arko' by her bare midriff as the younger elf still kicked and clawed at the stranger who is supporting a black eye on his left.

"By Elune Arko! Enough already!" shouted the priestess yanking away her student whom she noticed had tears on her eyes. Immediately her heart melted. How much courage did Arko' muster to force herself to attack that man?

"Arko' enough. Enough," repeated Tyrande pulling the shorter elf to her bosom who immediately cried softly as Tyrande encircled her arms around her student who continued sobbing, ignoring the fact that Arko' is covered in grime and mud with leaves sticking on her hair.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," repeated the young elf while Tyrande just caressed her hair.

"God that hurts," moaned the stranger making Tyrande glare at him as he approached them making Arko' press closer to her. "I didn't attack her if it makes you feel better," he added seeing her trying to stab him with her eyes.

"You tried using a spell on her," pointed out the priestess with a hiss not forgetting the pain that she endured when he hit her.

He merely waved it off as he dusted his chain mail, wincing a bit at the wound made the Furbolg there. He had some scratches on his face other than the black eye and a busted lip from his and Arko's fight

"My lady what are you two talking about?" asked Arko in confusion. "And how can you understand him?"

"Later Arko," promised Tyrande looking at her before staring back at the male who is keeping a reasonable distance away trying and failing not to oggle their bodies.

Despite herself, Tyrande can't help but be flattered. She had almost forgotten how she affected the opposite sex. To see the flush on his face, she can't help but take pleasure at the affect her very person is having on him. Still, better rectify the situation before something again will offer another chance that they would come into blows.

"I'm Tyrande Whisperwind, Priestess of Elune and Sentinel Commander and this is my student Arko'Narin, a Sentinel in training," introduced the Priestess. "We are KalDorei from Mooglade. Who and what are you?"

"Well, I'm Harrold James Potter, Grandmaster of the High Templar Order and the fellow still knocked out on the grass is my squire Colin Creevey. We are exiles from Acre and Jerusalem. We are humans I guess," said the male making Tyrande blink.

"Grandmaster? Templar Order? Acre? Jerusalem? Human? What are those?" asked Tyrande.

She didn't miss the "human" flinch within himself before muttering to himself something like. "I should have expected this,"

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So I think that's that. Thank you for those who reviewed my story. I really appreciate it. By the way. Is it normal to have so little reviews? I mean just twenty-five? I checked Cassie's Newcomers review and it reached sixty on chapter one only. Is my story that bad? I'm sorry if it is. It is my first one. By the way how is it? Hope you like the fight scenes. I'm going to add more HP characters later like Ced and Fleur.

PS: Don't flirt with me! I hate it! And by the way, Ill never tell you my FB address so piss off! Im just a writer here! Not looking for a boyfriend!