Sleep beside the fire surrounded by orcs had been fitful at best, though that wasn't particularly different from any other night for Gylledra. But she was curious about the orcs, and had stared at the stars for most of the night wondering about them. Where had they come from? How did they get here? What was their previous involvement with the Legion? Before the Sundering, aside from that one stray orc, there had been no orcs in Kalimdor. She could only imagine the outrage and disgust Azshara would have had for a people like that. Knowing what little about them as she did, Gylledra liked them better already, if for no other reason than that mad bitch would have hated them.
Since they were strangers, Thrall had revealed almost nothing about his people or their predicament to Gylledra and Nasorya. It would have been more surprising if he had. She could only surmise from what she was told that likely it was the humans that sought to eradicate the orcs because of something that had happened. They bore all the signs of a suppressed people existing under the crushing weight of their own past, which was tainted with demon blood. Judging by the maps she had, it seemed their best course of action would be to find a way to cross the sea to another distant continent that little was known about. Gylledra's next question was how would they accomplish that? There were a lot of orcs.
Varok Saurfang, advisor to the Warchief was saddled with keeping an eye on the "guests" it seemed. He was certainly preferable to some of the other more axe-happy individuals who eyed them with even greater suspicion. The veteran orc was revered by his people, that much was clear as well. Perhaps that was the reason he was stuck with Gylledra and Nasorya, the orcs wouldn't dare disobey such a commander.
Everyone rose before dawn, shuffling around bleary-eyed, getting rid of the evidence of fires and covering their tracks…it was a feat to disguise the path of that many orcs, but they managed it well enough before they were on the move again. Scouts went ahead to ensure they wouldn't be crossing paths with any possible enemies, humans in particular.
The flavorless gruel they'd inhaled as breakfast sat like a stone in Gylledra's stomach as she walked beside Varok. It was quiet besides the footsteps on dirt, plate armor making contact with more plate, and the creak of leather straps. How many such marches had Gylledra been in like this? How many faces of soldiers and people fearing for their lives as they trudged to get away from imminent danger had she seen? She could not count them all if she tried; after so long they all blended together. Such was a life of warring.
"It is a solemn march to just another kind of war." Varok rumbled. Gylledra's head whipped around, startled, as she stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. It was as though he'd pulled the thought from her mind. He frowned then. "What?"
"I was thinking nearly the same thing." She replied and cleared her throat quietly, looking forward again. "I cannot count the warbands I have marched in."
"Nor I." He agreed. "We are making our way to another new world, though at least this time there is no portal…but the sea, I suppose." Gylledra quickly spotted the opportunity to ask a few questions of her own, hopefully without sounding suspiciously inquisitive.
"Where were you born?" The question came out as intended, to further the conversation, and not necessarily interrogate the orc.
"Do you really want to know?" Varok looked down at Gylledra, arching one brow; he likely hadn't expected her to have any such interest.
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know. And, I lack the subtlety to trick you into telling me." Her comment elicited a snort of amusement from him. So, he was not made of stone.
"Where orcs come from or where I come from? They are different conversations." His eyes were back on the road ahead of them and while her intent had been to learn about the orcs in general, she decided instead to learn about him.
"Where you come from." A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.
"Why?"
"Why not?"
"It is dull." Varok warned.
"I'll be the judge of that." She gave a shrug.
"Very well." He sighed, but not out of any real annoyance. "Our world was called Draenor. I was born in the north in Gorgrond what seems like a very, very long time ago."
"I cannot suppose you are too terribly old." Gylledra interjected, her eyes raking down his form, head to foot. "You don't seem it." Then she gestured vaguely at his axe. "That weighs more than I do."
"I may not yet be infirm, but I am old, make no mistake." He scoffed, then looked down at her wryly. "Flattery gets you nowhere."
"Very well, you're old and crochety…" She started.
"Crochety?"
"Yes, clearly. If you smile, I think your face might actually crack." She snorted. "Fine, crotchety and dangerous. How is that?"
"You will do well not to forget it."
"Oh, I will not forget, you make a startling first impression." There was a smirk on her lips.
"Likewise." He replied evenly, and she looked up at him again, smirk replaced with mild shock. Varok made a great effort to remain looking forward, the color in his cheeks deepening somewhat. Gylledra didn't miss his arched brow and looked away, unable to wrest the grin off her face.
She caught sight of Nasorya who was within earshot a short distance back, grinning with a worrisome menace. She made a circle with her thumb and fingers, thrusting her other index finger suggestively through it. Gylledra's mouth dropped open as she discretely made a different rude gesture in return, almost sending her filthy-minded friend into hysterics.
"My clan are the Blackrock, as I said yesterday." Varok went on.
"Your feeble memory goes all the way back to yesterday?" She teased, seemingly overcome by whatever affliction Nasorya had that kept her from ever holding her tongue. He made a somewhat frustrated noise.
"You asked, if you do not wish to know…"
"I'm sorry." She grabbed his forearm as he moved to walk past her. Varok looked back, a little surprised and she quickly let go. "Please, tell me." He sighed and fell in beside her again.
"The Blackrock were a true force to be reckoned with, born and bred into war, I have known little else. When the old Horde came together, I was made a lieutenant of the Warchief." He paused as they marched onward for several beats. "Then came the Fel and the warlocks, consuming everything in their path, drying our rivers, withering our forests…eventually starving the world itself to death. Mistakes were made by many seeking to become stronger, we came to this world, conquered and then were conquered in return…though perhaps that's a conversation for another time."
"Ah, of course…I apologize…I didn't mean to make you relive it…"
"A history steeped in tragedy, I relive it every time I close my eyes regardless." He seemed resigned to that fate, to being forced to experience the memories and the pain that came with them again and again. Gylledra had wallowed enough in her own guilt to know what it meant to accept the haunting memories as penance.
Observing the orcs in her immediate vicinity, she retreated into her own thoughts. They had been beaten down, wills broken and then mended…she saw in them hope. They were hopeful for a new land, to find a new home. They couldn't return to the one they came from, even if they could have, as Varok already said, Draenor, had died.
She listened to the indistinct conversations happening around her, understanding none of them, and Gylledra turned to him. "Will you teach me Orcish?"
"What?" He almost stopped in his tracks, the nearly-permanent frown deepened but he blinked, having no idea what to make of her. It wasn't that he hadn't heard her, but more the astonishment at the question. It would be safer, less serious conversation than delving into the wars they'd experienced. Gylledra didn't feel particularly inclined to bare the very essence of herself to an orc she had known less than a day.
"I'll teach you mine if you teach me yours." She gave a playful sort of shrug and though he shook his head with disbelief, he couldn't hide the very small, but still existent smile she had finally pulled out of his stony, frowning face.
"Very well. If nothing else, it will pass the time." He told her.
Gylledra's desire to learn to speak Orcish had a dual purpose; first, she did want to learn to speak with the orcs in their own language, but secondly, it would keep Saurfang talking. In a matter of hours, she had mastered rudimentary Orcish conversation and they switched to Shalassian, which he seemed to get a grasp of somewhat more quickly than she'd been learning orcish, much to her chagrin.
"Your language feels strange in my mouth." Varok told Gylledra.
"You know what feels strange in MY mouth?" Nasorya seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"For the love of fuck, Nasorya!" Gylledra hissed.
"Close!" She snickered.
"I see profanity is universal." Varok commented and Gylledra whirled around, finding him straight faced but with a spark of amusement in his eyes that belied his curmudgeonly expression.
"I did not teach you 'profanity' OR 'universal'." She narrowed her eyes at him and he almost chuckled.
"The two of you don't talk particularly quietly." He replied. She'd clearly underestimated him, and it was intriguing that he had picked up on their speech in so short a time.
"Clever." She murmured then suddenly Nasorya leaned in and spouted off in Orcish. Varok's brows arched high suddenly and he looked away. Gylledra simply stared as laughing, Nasorya departed.
Nasorya, left to her own devices, had picked up Orcish with no more effort than it took to listen to others speaking it. She had an uncanny knack for languages and knew many more than Gylledra did. She was chattering on conversationally to just about anyone who would listen. Her bald-faced optimism and lack of self-consciousness somehow seemed to put people they met at ease. Gylledra wasn't always the most comforting of people, her skills with warmth weren't particularly honed.
The expansive band of orcs was making its way back across the Hillsbrad Foothills toward an Alliance Port, where they intended to take all available ships and cross the Great Sea to the continent of Kalimdor. The orcs were seeking to be the masters of their own lives, and they would make formidable allies against the Legion, Gylledra thought. She had considered looking for any elves that might still exist outside of Suramar, but didn't know the state of the Night Elf empire, if they had even survived as night elves at all. With the Well of Eternity destroyed, she assumed their immortality had gone with it.
The day began its descent into evening and there was a sudden commotion up ahead, accompanied by a high pitched very non-orc scream. The sound of it cut through Gylledra like a blade as she and Varok made their way toward it at once. The orcs had gathered around something and were moving in menacingly toward whatever it was. Craning her neck, and pushing past those who would let her, she saw the two very small humans—children—frozen in terror. They were unarmed with anything besides a basket full of berries, a dead rabbit, and the snare they'd used to catch it with.
"No!" Gylledra cried, seeing the cowering children. She tried to shove through the shoulder to shoulder orcs without luck. The orcs fully intended to kill the children, of that she had no doubt.
"Stand aside!" Varok boomed in Orcish, his order obeyed at once. She ran through, standing in front of the young humans. The elder was an adolescent girl, terror alight in her large brown eyes and the other was a very small boy, clinging to the girl's legs, whimpering.
"They're humans!" A voice snarled from the crowd.
"They're children!" She snapped back. "What does killing innocents achieve?"
"Not having the alarm sounded so that they send more humans after us." An orc woman replied, her tone sharp and angry.
"Can you think of no other solution?" She scoffed in reply and suddenly a dark purple ring burned itself into the ground surrounding Gylledra and the children, sigils of bright blue fading in and out of view around it. None who intended harm to those within the ring would be able to cross it and she turned to the trembling humans. "Sleep." She said quietly, and both of them collapsed. She caught them both before they could hit the ground and lowered them carefully. When they woke, the orcs would be gone, and the children would, at most, believe it was a dream if they remembered anything at all.
Varok watched her, his thick, muscled arms crossed, axe gripped in one hand. His expression was firm, but he approved, she could see it. There was no honor in slaying children, whether they were meant to grow into adults that would take up arms and hunt them or not.
"Just because humans might kill or capture orcs and orc children without a second thought does not make doing the same to their children permissible." She snarled. "Fight an enemy that can fight back, rise above what they are, what they have done." It was clear enough none of them liked what she had to say, but also there were no verbalized arguments against it, and so they let her pass as she made her way back toward Nasorya. Many had turned to Varok, perhaps hoping for permission despite her protest.
"Leave the human children. If any cross that circle and it doesn't kill you, I will." It was no threat that Varok Saurfang made, he was not the sort to do so. His voice rang with promise and finality. Gylledra was not certain how he would react, but she was glad he did. There were cries of dissent and complaint, but he put a hand up. "What would you do? Slay their young for your momentary satisfaction? All it would do is incite more rage, the humans would gather and rise up to follow us wherever we go. Stow your rage and think of your own children."
As the sun dipped below the mountains and tree line, the orc exodus halted to set up camp. Small fires were lit, meat cooked, drinks poured…Gylledra stared into the fire, wondering if she should not have so quickly decided to travel with the orcs. But had she not…would those children still be alive? Would Varok still have stopped the slaughter?
She had not been warmly welcomed into the fold before, of course, but now the orcs were being outright cold toward her. Though somewhat bothersome, she was not terribly upset by it as she resolved to stay true to this path she'd chosen, the road to trust was not straight or smooth. Even the fast friendships Nasorya had made seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder as well, which resulted in her sitting cross-legged on the ground poking aimlessly at the food in her wooden bowl as she sulked.
"You were not wrong, Gylledra." Varok told her quietly. Her gaze flicked over to where he sat but she turned back to the fire.
"I know." She murmured, getting to her feet.
"I will not raise my axe to an innocent, nor allow others to do so if it is within my power to stop them."
"That's one of you, at least."
"It was not always so." He didn't look her in the eye, taking a bite of his food.
"No, I expect not. I have found that it isn't until we have spilt innocent blood that we understand its value." Without waiting to see Varok's reaction, she walked away from the fire toward the woods to relieve herself. Yes, there is much I am not proud of, she thought to herself.
Gylledra made her way back to the fire where Varok stood, putting on more logs. Just as she reached it, she was shoved hard from behind and she stumbled, falling headlong into him, and he caught her, giving an irritated snarl over her head at whoever had done it. With cheeks burning hot, Gylledra pulled away from him, turning to find a very angry orc woman baring her teeth, rage in her eyes. Gylledra nearly thought to apologize for perhaps tripping on her or bumping into her, but no, it had been an intentional shove.
"I have no quarrel with you…" She started.
"Nevertheless, Gylledra, she has one with you and you must answer the challenge how you will." Varok replied quietly, leaning down. With a small, frustrated sound, her jaw clenched and unclenched before she took a deep breath to calm herself.
"You do not belong amongst us, none who would defend a human should be allowed to live let alone eat at our fires." Gylledra recalled that the orc woman was called Pava, she had been one of Nasorya's new friends.
"I protected innocent human children the same as I would protect innocent orc children from humans, as I would protect any children from harm." Gylledra replied.
"A human is a human." Pava sneered. "We don't need or want you or your magic here, magic has already done enough."
"The Legion and their fel tore you apart, not me. Just as the humans tore you apart were not those children." It seemed useless to attempt reasoning with an orc who had already made up her mind to fight.
"What are you without your magic?"
"I am skilled enough on my own, but I do not wish to fight you…with or without magic." Gylledra told her despite the futility of it.
"You are free to decline my challenge, elf, but if you do, then you must leave here and never show your face again." Pava looked delighted by that prospect and Gylledra glanced toward Varok who gave a nearly imperceptible nod as though to say yes, those are the rules.
"Then I accept your challenge, Pava, and I agree to whatever stipulations you deem fair and honorable for this combat." She replied with a small shrug. A murmur rippled outward from those who were now watching intently. Dinner and entertainment, Gylledra thought wryly.
Nasorya was staring wide-eyed with interest and anticipation as she continued industriously devouring her meal. There was little that could stop her from eating, not even Gylledra being challenged to single combat.
"Fine." Pava almost seemed disappointed that she had not frightened Gylledra out of fighting; the orc woman had no idea of course the things she had seen and the great unlikeliness that Gylledra would ever be intimidated into cowardice. "Staves only, no magic." She'd been expecting axes but was silently thankful that their weapons would not be bladed. She truly did not want to hurt the orc. Thrall had appeared but made no move to intervene. This was not his conflict, and unless one of them was caught cheating, he would stay out of it.
"Very well." Gylledra nodded and a wide circle was cleared, shadows of fire flickering on the dirt between them. A long, wooden staff was thrust into her hands and she spun it idly, getting a lay of the land, so to speak, of the ground between them. It was flat, no rocks, relatively little to cause problems; it would be a straightforward fight.
There was no doubt in Gylledra's mind of Pava's skills as a warrior. She was bigger, physically stronger, and had experience in battle. Neither of them would come out of the encounter unscathed.
Pava did not hesitate, attacking with a barrage of strikes that Gylledra dodged or deflected. To try and bluntly block a strike from the powerful orc would have meant a broken staff or badly rattled bones. She had trained in melee before she had ever trained to fight with magic; the Moon Guard, despite valuing arcane power as much as they did, wanted no guards that could not fight without magic.
Gylledra initially aimed to tire her opponent out somewhat, though she didn't believe an orc would tire quickly by any means. The savage need deep inside her grew bored of blocking and avoiding and without warning, she went on the offensive. Gylledra was smaller and faster than Pava, striking her rapidly about the midsection, but she was hesitating and caught a hook punch to the face that sent her reeling backward into the dirt. She recovered quickly though, rolling and smoothly getting to her feet.
"Stop holding back!" Pava snarled and per her request, caught the butt of Gylledra's staff hard to the face. She attacked the orc relentlessly, giving her no opportunity to anticipate the next move as she was struck by the last one. Pava landed hard on her back and Gylledra snatched her staff out of the air, hurtling it like a javelin where one end imbedded deep in the dirt outside their circle. The orc grabbed the front of Gylledra's vest and tossed her with disconcerting ease across their makeshift fighting ring. She hit the ground hard but rolled sideways, staff still in hand, and kipped-up to her feet, chest heaving. There was no time to think before her opponent rushed her, but Gylledra got low, tackling Pava at waist level, sending them both into the dirt with a heavy thud and various oofs.
The fight needed to end, Gylledra knew they were both capable of brawling for a long time, but there was no point to it, none but the one she was about to make. Pava fumbled to her feet only to have her misplace momentum used against her as she was thrown back onto the ground. Gylledra stalked toward her, staff in hand and the orc's eyes widened, expecting…or perhaps fearing, a killing blow, but instead, with one swift movement, Gylledra broke the thick staff in half over her own knee and with a ragged cry, jammed the tapered ends into the dirt on either side of Pava's head.
Silence stretched on for several beats, the only sound was that of the combatants' breath as they tried to catch it and the fires that crackled merrily around them.
"I will not kill you, Pava." Gylledra panted. "Not because I cannot, because I choose not to. I do not think you should die, certainly not by my hand! I am not here to take anything from you, or gain anything for myself. I was born into this world and I want to protect it from the same force that ultimately destroyed your home. There is no honor in dying against someone who is not your enemy and doesn't wish to kill you." She held her hand out to the prone, now bewildered orc. Pava blinked, confused, but finally took the proffered hand, allowing Gylledra to help her to her feet. "Words mean nothing, I know that. I ask only for the opportunity to prove them." Pava nodded slowly.
"You fought with honor, I did not expect that." She thumped her fist over her heart, a gesture mirrored by the spectators. "I misjudged you." Gylledra gave a nod and Pava made her way through an opening in the crowd, the faces of which seemed much more accepting than before.
.
Saurfang was not sure what to make of the elf and her unusual horned handmaiden. Since he was the one to find them and bring them back, they were his responsibility; on his watch they wouldn't be killed at least. He had observed the occasional elf since coming to Azeroth, though they'd been small like humans, much slighter of build and fairer complexion. Gylledra Alenos was as unlike those elves as he thought it was possible to be; she was taller and built like a warrior; her hair was long and dark, not yellow like those he'd seen. Her eyes were somewhat luminescent at night, and what could only be described as…dark, shimmering moss during the day.
Gylledra's companion was…probably the strangest female he'd ever set eyes on. She was similar in height to her elven friend, but much slighter of build and oddly…gray…with bright violet eyes. Though her most peculiar feature of all were the horns. She was not an elf and neither she nor Gylledra had said what she was.
Neither had shown concern for their own lives in the presence of orcs, not even when he'd surprised Gylledra in her camp. In his mind, those who showed no fear when faced with orcs were either very, very stupid, already dead, or powerful enough they had nothing to fear. In this case he was certain it was the third option despite neither of them strutting or posturing.
The horned one flitted about talking to anyone who made eye contact; she was oddly charismatic and disturbingly likeable. He surmised that Gylledra was likely the more dangerous of the two, were they to pose a threat. For as outgoing as Nasorya was, Gylledra was much less so, usually not making conversation with someone new unless they spoke to her first. She had spoken with him more than any of the others and begrudgingly, he'd enjoyed it. He thought she was funny, her wit very sharp, and her mind sharper still. She seemed to understand war in the way he understood it, which was unexpected. She also was not afraid of him and he liked that…also begrudgingly.
Gylledra showed honor; her fight with Pava made that evident. She accepted the challenge and adhered to the rules when she could have easily decimated her opponent with magic. She risked her own life to protect innocent children, even if they were the offspring of enemies. In particular, that had stayed with him for the rest of the day and it still was on his mind. He felt a stab of shame as he remembered a time that honor and innocence meant nothing to him.
While the camp slept, Saurfang walked the perimeter silently, keeping watch. Approaching his own dying fire, he saw Gylledra sitting beside it, prodding the orange coals with a stick. The expression on her face was one he knew well.
"I can see the ghosts haunting you, Gylledra." He told her, approaching out of the darkness behind her. He sat down on an up-ended log. She'd been aware of his presence and was not startled.
"There are many." She whispered. "Sometimes, I'm not able to keep them at bay…mostly at night when the world around me is quiet enough I can still hear their voices. And so…I rarely sleep." A quick glance upward and she saw him staring across the embers into space. He had his own ghosts, as she said, many.
"The nights are difficult." He agreed. Somehow, in spite of his suspicion and concern that he had regarding the unusual strangers, he felt at ease in her presence, free to say what he liked. It was tempting to suspect her magic at work, but she had not used it for anything small or mundane for her own benefit. It was unlikely she would use it to put one orc at ease.
"I was given much to think on today." She set the stick down and let out a long breath.
"Oh?"
"Seeing your people as you make your way to a new land to escape the humans, coming upon those terrified children…all my time at war…it has been thousands of years of…failure, of watching innocent lives taken, destroyed…but…no worlds saved. I have cut down countless demons and where one falls, five more take its place." Gylledra eyes were still distant, looking into the hot ash as it still spit embers into the air; there was a flash of anguish on her face as she put her hand over her chest. "It has been so long, I have fought so much…I cannot stop, I don't know how." She finally looked up at Saurfang and found him watching her, not with pity or sympathy, but with understanding. He had not lived for millennia, but his entire life had been war, too. He knew the weariness she described very well. "There are these moments of sweeping despair and I wonder what has it all been for? Yet I will not give up, I swore an oath, I pledged my life to the fight no matter the outcome." She shook her head sadly. "But I grow tired…not my body, but in my essence. It is as if a chasm has opened up, what once I could fill with war and spilt blood in the name of vengeance and what I thought was righteousness, no longer even has a bottom that I can see." She looked down again, her hands on her middle. "It seems strange…or ridiculous even…to ask…how have you carried on?"
"We endure because honor demands it." He replied stoically. She nodded, there was no disputing that. He was curious, though. "To whom did you swear your oath?"
"I swore it to the Life Binder…Eonar. She is a Titan…or what is left of one anyway. Sargeras killed her, but her spirit fled to Elunaria, one of the uncorrupted worlds I sometimes enjoyed visiting when I needed to feel goodness again." Gylledra explained. "The titans put this world, and many others, into order. I found her there in a sanctuary where she was hiding, and she knew everything about me only by looking in my eyes."
"Who is Sargeras?" Saurfang asked. She rose and moved to the log beside his to keep her voice from carrying.
"He was once a titan himself, he sits at the head of the Burning Legion and is responsible for your world's destruction and the Sundering of mine. He is the absolute enemy. I do not suppose he revealed himself to your world or its inhabitants. He has his lieutenants do his dirty work." She let out a long breath, but smiled. "It is too easy to fall into despair over all the horrors I have seen, but when I think of Eonar, I feel happy. I swore myself to her service and to that of all that remains of the Pantheon and she bid me to fight, to use even darkness to combat the demons."
"What darkness is that?" He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. He had witnessed firsthand the darkness wrought by the fel.
"The Void…shadow magic. It is the opposite of the Light, though neither is inherently good or bad, it is what is done with such power that aligns it one way or the other. It was because of the shadow that I was able to escape Suramar. I had been doing research in our great libraries and unwisely playing with very volatile uses of the arcane. Arcane made me Nightborne, after all. I found that the Legion sought to eradicate all life to prevent Void Lords from creating a dark titan that would annihilate all existence."
"So, this titan is seeking to annihilate all existence…so that another titan cannot do exactly that?" Saurfang shook his head. "That's complete madness."
"That is exactly what it is. So, he feared the Void and I began to learn to bend it to my will and grew as proficient with it as I was with arcane. My dabbling drew the attention of…one who sought to squash any misuse of the void. Fortunately for me I was able to prove to him that I wished only to fight the Legion. He was the one that broke my dependence on the Night Well, the font of power sustaining Suramar and all of my people. He took me away, and I began my journey." She shrugged. "He helped me further master my powers, much happened…and now, here I am."
"That is quite a history." He murmured. There was much she spoke of that he knew nothing about, but he believed that she truly wished to rise against the mad titan. Even without knowing her long, Saurfang knew that something he did not ever want to be was Gylledra's enemy.
.
The orcs were only about a day's travel from the port at Southshore, the plan was to get close enough by nightfall to infiltrate and acquire all the ships that they could under the cover of darkness. They were headed for a large continent called Kalimdor, which Gylledra thought was interesting, considering that before the Well had been destroyed, the land when whole was called Kalimdor. They made good time, though, bolstered by the fact they were so close to finally leaving the Eastern Kingdoms behind, and everything that had happened there.
The sun had just set, and the energy and anticipation were palpable. Thrall had given explicit orders to not make any unnecessary kills, and that any that were necessary were to be quiet and neat. Gylledra wasn't sure what a neat kill constituted for an orc, but she imagined it was different from how she would define it.
"How did you find out about Kalimdor?" Gylledra asked Thrall. He looked down at her as though debating internally whether or not to answer her question. She had been much less forthcoming with him than Varok, though she had no concrete reason why. Thrall seemed trustworthy and to genuinely care about the wellbeing of his people.
"I received a vision indicating that remaining here would be damning to the orcs survival, and that across the sea in Kalimdor is where our destiny lies." His eyes narrowed at her, waiting for some negative reaction perhaps but all Gylledra did was nod.
"Makes sense, this land is already claimed and inhabited by humans and others…likely they would seek to hunt you to extinction." She replied, and he looked somewhat relieved.
"That is one of many concerns, yes. If you are still willing, your assistance would be welcome."
"I will do what I can to minimize the chances of the townsfolk rising and noticing all their ships being taken." She couldn't help but grin.
"Isn't Kalimdor what everything was called?" Nasorya asked.
"Yes, a very long time ago." Gylledra replied.
"I would like to hear about old Kalimdor sometime." Thrall told her.
"Before the Sundering?" Varok approached from behind and the Warchief's brow furrowed looking from him to Gylledra.
"You've told Saurfang stories already?"
"Some…"
"Oh, Gylledra…you made a friend!" Nasorya grinned.
"I thought I should have more than one, I've listened to your yammering for nigh unto four millennia. I'm broadening my horizons." Gylledra quipped.
"Yes, broaden them…the wider the better, really. I do, however, suggest starting slow…" Nasorya winked and Gylledra rolled her eyes and sighed, good-naturedly.
"She's probably up to what? Seven orcs already." Gylledra muttered and Thrall inhaled sharply then coughed, blue eyes widening.
"Hey!" Nasorya frowned. "Four! I'm not as young as I used to be."
"You're shocking the Warchief." Gylledra grinned and walked away, hips swaying.
The town had settled down for the night, lights winking out one by one in each house. It was large, but manageable enough to infiltrate without worrying an army would spring up. Gylledra doubted they even had much of a militia, it didn't appear well guarded. It was easy enough for her to go unnoticed, even in full light, so she slipped into town quietly to determine the most advantageous route for the orcs to get to the docks.
There was a supply road that led mostly around the town itself to the shipyard that would involve minimal contact. That would be their best bet, she thought. There were a number of night watchmen at the docks, but not many. One by one she put them to sleep and they slumped over at their stations. The ships creaked quietly in the still water, there were quite a few of them and it hadn't occurred to her until that moment to wonder whether or not orcs even knew how to sail. She knew how to at least, it had been part of her training to join the Moon Guard.
The still water was a bit of a concern, it would have been preferable to have the sound of marching orcs drown out by crashing waves. Such were the risks taken on surreptitious endeavors.
On her way back to where the orcs were waiting, Gylledra didn't come across any wandering patrols. On one hand she was glad, on the other it meant that she simply hadn't crossed paths with the patrols that could be wandering around. The orcs were itching to get moving though, shifting and pacing.
"I incapacitated the guards at the docks, if we take the supply road, we can get in, board, and sail out without much trouble. Everyone just needs to move fast and try to keep the noise down." She reported. She told him how many ships there were, how they were docked and where. Thrall gave a nod and Varok clapped Gylledra on the back unexpectedly, nearly bowling her over so that he had to catch her by the shoulders and right her. She stared up at him wide-eyed.
"Good work." He cleared his throat. "We'll be sailing in no time."
As the orcs made their way along the supply road, Gylledra waited at the docks, keeping watch for additional patrols. They piled into boat after boat and when the last orc had boarded, she jogged up a gangplank where Varok stood on deck giving orders. It took time to get them coordinated enough to leave port and by the time the coast was shrinking in the distance, the sun had started to rise.
Gylledra stood on the back of the ship, watching the town and its port getting farther and farther away as dawn broke. The pink and orange light hit the town while the residents were likely waking and starting their day. Part of her wanted to know how they'd react to find an entire fleet of ships gone in the night without a trace.
She had come to the Eastern Kingdoms unsure of who she would find there, thinking there would be some city she would need to seek the leaders of…but things had gone in a very different direction. She was of two minds…one believing that she made all the choices in her life and chose her own path, and the other, which wondered if there were perhaps meaning to things, purposes set before each individual to achieve…or not achieve. It was comforting to think that there was a reason for everything, that perhaps the loss of innocent life was not in vain, which was likely why Gylledra had such a hard time believing it. Comforting thoughts were seldom based in reality.
"Will you miss it?" Varok stepped up beside her and she shook her head, still watching the shore.
"It is not the same world I knew." She told him. "I don't have a home, even Suramar wasn't after the shield went up…just a pretty prison. Though, I don't expect to have a home anyway."
"No? Why is that?"
"Because I will most likely die fighting the Legion." Gylledra shrugged.
"Now you sound like an orc." Varok's chuckle rumbled in his chest and she looked up at him.
"Lok-tar."