A/N: Just was a warning, the beginning of this chapter is quite graphic. The first and third chapter (only three chapters) aren't this extreme, so if you don't like the violence and vulgarity you can skip past and still enjoy the rest of the story. The story becomes a bit intense here for reasons that will be understood in the next two stories featuring Khujand, so it isn't gratuitous without a reason. Hope the intent isn't misunderstood!

Not a soul was to be seen on the edge of the settlement at Thunder Pass that night. Even the grunts normally guarding the town gate seemed to be absent, either patrolling the main streets or perhaps simply slacking off during the night shift. A slope from the flat edge upon which the settlement rested snaked around the ledge's corner, forming a natural ramp down to the expansive snowy valley below. With the exception of some volcanic activity off in the distance, there was no light beyond the main gate at all aside from the stars. The landscape turned pitch black within thirty yards of the settlement's entrance, and not even the white carpet on the ground could be seen. Not a sound could be heard other than the scuffling on a rocky walkway accompanied by a young girl sobbing.

Khujand moved as close as he could around the bend of the natural ramp, making sure to avoid any of the torches lighting the way. He was never a thief, but he had interacted with enough of them to slink around at night reasonably well. As he moved himself behind a pile of empty crates left by supply caravans, he was able to view a scene only twenty twenty-five feet or so away from him that made his stomach turn.

Jarinta was pressed up against the rocky wall forming the left edge of the natural lamp leading up to the settlement, a wooden railing lining the right edge. Two orcs and another troll formed a semi-circle around her, close enough to reach out and touch her. It was clear what was happening.

"I wanna go home!"

"We'll help you fine your home, sweetheart. But our help isn't free," oinked the one on the far left closest to Khujand's spot. He was wearing some sort of a stupid looking leather headband painted a light blue color. The way they were speaking was so cliche it would have been a joke had the intent behind it not been so sickening.

They might just harass her a bit and let her go, he tried telling himself. She had her chance to just walk back to the inn where she belongs; they might just scare her a bit and she'll learn a lesson. It would be easier for him to just believe that.

You know that's a lie. The voice deep in the back of his head had an accusatory tone. You're the same as them if you walk away now.

The orc on the far left of the semi-circle and the troll on the far right were petting her wrists now. Her eyes were closed and she was visibly shaking; her coat was so thick that the shaking obviously wasn't due to the cold weather.

"I jus' wanna go my home, I be havin' some money, I-"

"Oh, we're taking you're money too, no doubt. And just a little bit more beyond that..." The punk sounded almost like he had rehearsed the line. All three of them were quite young, most likely born only a few years before the Third War. They wouldn't stand a chance as long as they couldn't call for help. But...it's not his problem, is it?

And if it were your daughter?

The voice wouldn't stop. This wouldn't happen to Khujand's daughter; she doesn't drink and wander the streets at night.

How do you know that, asshole? You haven't even seen her in six years.

The voice's tone became harsher as Khujand shuffled away, moving silently back up the ramp. It's not his problem. It's not his problem. It's not his problem. She made her choice. It's her fault. She brought it on to herself.

Only five paces or so away from the commotion, he heard one of the ugliest sounds he could remember, and he heard a lot of ugly sounds during his time inflicting pain on others. It was a sound he only heard two other times in his life. A cry that made all the muscles in his core tense as he wished he was deaf. The sob he remembers only hearing from a woman who was giving up. Giving up and ready to accept whatever cruel joke fate was playing on her.

The first time was on Darkspear Isle, when one of the teenagers was assaulted outside of her hut on a quiet night. The second time was at the Crossroads, from a new female recruit who was cornered in the barracks. In both instances, older people in the respective communities stepped in and made the perpetrators wish the authorities had found them first. The ugly, horrifying sound was stopped before the worst part came.

There isn't anyone else here this time. Only you. Will you let the worst part come now? Or will you make the choice to prevent it?

"We know what ya want, girlie. Da question is, do ya want it rough or not? How long you gonna ache after ya get ruined?"

"I...no, not rough..."

Khujand actually put his hands over his ears now, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. It's not your problem. Keep repeating it. You aren't with the town guard. Find one of them and just file a verbal report. Then you did your part.

May you never forget whatever choice you make now, Khujand. May it be carved with a salted hook into the front of your lying, cowardly forelock until the very moment of your death. The voice had turned into a scream now. He shuffled a bit faster.

Down the ramp, Jiranta felt hands on her shoulders as one of them tried to force her onto her knees. Her legs trembling, she was no longer able to keep herself stable and slumped down into a sitting position. Whatever was being said to her had all meshed into one incoherent sound as she felt her lungs constricting so much that she was breathing through her mouth. The three punks only seemed to become more excited at the sight.

"Get ready to choke down, sweet thing," the second orc rasped to her as he pulled his pants off. The troll already had a hand moving under Jarinta's shirt.

She finally opened her eyes, hearing footsteps none of her three assailants had seemed to notice. Two red, electric glowing eyes were towering behind them and a long object shined faintly before disappearing. She was afraid a fourth attacker, much worse than the first three, had decided to take a turn as well.

"Yeeoooowwww! No no no no no no no wait wait!" The orc wearing the stupid looking headband was yanked backwards, clasping at the foot-long blade which had been pushed all the way through his right ear. He sliced up his fingers up in the process of feeling for the source of the searing pain, and he seemed unable to stumble back quickly enough to keep up with the weight pulling him back and down by the head.

One second.

The two others turned, now faced with the largest jungle troll they had ever seen pulling their friend by what seemed to be the hair, forcing him down and to the right. The larger man's left leg was held flexed straight behind him, only to be bent and thrust forward as the large knee connected with the small of the orc's back. He twisted his oversized knife like a corkscrew and the orc's only support was robbed. He began falling backwards, minus the right ear.

Two seconds.

The second orc tried to zip his pants back up quickly and shout for help only for the knife to slash out at his face with lightning speed. The blade almost seemed to move through him, his tongue split in two pieces and his left cheek ripped open to expose his molar teeth all the way back to the night air. He fell as he tried in vain to move backward and reattach the two hanging flaps which were once his cheek, though he hit the ground after his friend who himself hit the ground after his own ear.

Three seconds.

The younger jungle troll had already dashed around the second orc and threw a right sucker punch in the dark, connecting with Khujand's mouth. The older man took the blow, his eyes glowing an even brighter red as the pain stung his lips. He grabbed on to the other troll's right wrist with his own right hand, pulling him around in a half circle as the first orc rolled onto his side and vomited into his own hair from the nausea of having his body rocked with Khujand's knee. The second orc tried to scramble away on all fours. Jarinta had curled into a ball on the ground.

Four seconds.

In one flowing movement along with the half circle, Khujand plunged his knife into the flesh behind the other troll's right elbow, pushing it straight out of the meat as he cut through the tendon holding the triceps muscle in place. A scream pierced the night though not loudly enough to reach the settlement about twenty feet up from that point on the ramp.

Five seconds.

The knife came down on the smaller troll a second time, slashing his right buttocks horizontally and snipping the muscles underneath as Khujand dashed across his falling body toward the orc that was crawling away. The troll's right leg was almost unliftable as the first orc finished spilling the contents of his stomach. The second orc felt a hand grab him by the hair and pull him up before he could move very far.

Six seconds. A bit overboard perhaps, but you still got it.

"Look at the dark out there, mon. You keep your eyes straight ahead and you look into the dark," Khujand finally said. The orc could only gag in response, his shredded tongue unable to form any words.

"You help your friends up. Now. You walk out to the valley down there. Now. You keep walking in the dark until you reach the next settlement. Now. Or I cut your neck open as slowly as possible. NOW."

He threw the orc on the ground toward his friends. The first orc had crawled onto his hands and knees and was clasping his right ear in his hand. Jarinta has somehow managed to stay in a ball while edging her way up the rocky left edge of the natural ramp. Khujand stomped over to the first orc, grabbing him by the arm and holding the knife near his eyeball as he forced him over to the other troll.

"NOW! I said NOW! Get out of this town NOW!" Khujand bellowed the end of each phrase as loud as he could, thrusting his head and neck forward at the group threateningly as the two orcs dragged the troll down the ramp before he could even hop up on his (still usable) left leg. Khujand hadn't gone berserk yet, but knew that scum like this were prone to revenge attacks. He had to frighten them as much as possible to ensure they were beaten mentally. He was back in prison mode now. Knocking over a pile of empty crates and barrels as he followed them down the ramp with his chest puffed out, he continued screaming as he waved the knife inches behind their backs. The other troll got his footing, the three helping each other out of town at a surprising speed as Khujand began launching the empty crates at them. The guards would notice the mess the next morning but would be none the wiser. He needed to scare these kids enough for them not to come back and either gather friends for a revenge attack or concoct a story for the guards. They didn't know about his record and likely couldn't use it against him, but his paranoia had almost completely taken over.

He continued throwing debris in their direction for a moment after they had already disappeared into the darkness, working out the rest of the adrenaline as his eyes stopped glowing and returned to their normal red hue. He remained standing for a while longer, peering into the darkness when he felt a limp body jump and cling to him.

Jarinta's sobbing was mostly unintelligible, though he did understand the phrases "mah heroe" and "I knew you'd come back for meh" as the girl almost seemed to hyperventilate. He quickly cupped his hand over her mouth, not wanting either any guards or - if they were still within earshot - the three injured assailants to hear her. Without even giving her the time to stabalize herself, he began dragging her back up the ramp as fast as he could, fight giving way to flight as he could focus only on getting Jarinta back to Ushka's inn. Once they got to level ground on the main street of the town, Khujand let her go and allowed her to trot behind him. This time, he was sure she would go the right way.

The adrenaline gone though his heart still racing, he entered the inn while dragging Jarinta again. Somewhere along the way, she had slowed down and her high-pitched ranting had turned into a low slur. Ushka and the hired men all appeared to be asleep and the mechanical, gnomish-designed clock on the wall had just struck midnight. Khujand fought against the panic building inside of him. He was with an unrelated underage girl who was drunk, on the verge of passing out and had just been sexually assaulted a mere ten to fifteen minutes before. He didn't know what to do, what to say to her, who to call on, who to report to. He had barely managed to make friends with some strangers in a bar who happened to be overly friendly and now he was doing the job of a surrogate father, a town guard and possibly a rape counselor.

Not knowing what else to do, he dragged Jarinta up the stairs and led her stumbling down the hallway to the women's shared room, grabbing the key from her belt without asking. This was too much. He didn't know what to do.

Calm down. The last thing she needs is YOU losing it. Stop and think.

No time for thinking. He opened the door to her room, guided her inside and handed the key back to her. She was so disoriented that she didn't even protest.

"Go shower. The hot coals be in the bathroom. If the water ain't warm, warm it. Go to sleep. Don't let noone inside other than Ushka or Javilla. Don't come out until the mornin." It took all the strength he had to slow his speaking down to an almost normal speed.

"Thanks, mista Kounjad," she mumbled while staring down at her shoes as he closed the door for her. He stayed outside for a moment, hearing her lie down on the bed without even removing her coat. He waited for a moment more in case there was sobbing, and heard snoring instead. How could she just sleep like that after what almost happened to her?

He rushed downstairs as quickly as he could without making any noise, trying to ignore his mounting confusion. He double checked the sliding back door to make sure it was secured and tried to open every window before locking and unlocking the front door three times. It was implausible that the three punks would come back to Thunder Pass and even if they did, they had no idea where Jarinta would be. Still, it was difficult for Khujand to go back out of prison mode having been on the outside for only three weeks.

Only when he was sure the inn was absolutely silent, and Jarinta, Ushka, and the three hired men were asleep, did Khujand finally retire to his room. He, Ushka and Toruk were the only people allowed their own individual rooms at the inn; Khujand and Toruk had toilets and sinks and Ushka had a full bathroom with a tub, like the rooms shared by the men on one side of the hall and Jarinta and Javilla on the other. There were only five rooms left to actually be rented out, two of them without bathtubs. Truthfully, Ushka had bent over backward to make Khujand and Toruk feel at home and most of her income was coming from the three meals she served to locals downstairs. Travelers always went to one of the two taverns.

After running a theft check and inspecting his door and both windows, Khujand removed his custom-made troll shoes and crawled under the covers, his head spinning at what he had just done. Only three weeks out and he had already been forced to march through the Dark Portal, onto what he was told was an alternate timeline of the orc homeworld and fight through Frostfire Ridge to reach some sense of normalcy in only the last seven days. He was now sure he had violated his parole. His head was spinning.

He slashed the face open of one orc and temporarily crippled the other troll. The two orcs were likely weakened from blood loss and the troll could barely walk without help. He sent them out to the frozen wastes and was now sure that they wouldn't make it through the night.

You know what they were going to do to the kid. She is a kid, by the way. An overdeveloped kid, but a kid nonetheless. The inner voice had returned.

Perhaps he could have beaten them up, or attacked them with a blunt object instead of a knife.

And if you had just knocked them out, what would happen the next time they found Jarinta? Or Javilla? Or any other young woman in the only home you now know?

He didn't answer. It was uncanny how his inner monologue seemed entirely independent from his conscious train of thought.

You know guys like this. They're all arrogance and audacious pride. If you beat them up and left them here, they would have gathered the people against you. You technically only had friends for thirty minutes. You had to make them leave. Would they have left if you hadn't grievously injured them?

Khujand was uncomfortable with the line of reasoning. He knew it would lead back to him. He didn't commit sexual crimes, but he knew he was violent nonetheless. The old him showed that it still existed when he attacked the three punks tonight.

Does a rapist deserve to die?

Why ask about morality? You know what would have happened to the kid. She's a thirteen year old kid. A stupid girl who nobody warned properly. There was no other way for you to get them off of her while still ensuring that they wouldn't try again.

If they deserved to die, why don't I deserve to die?

Irrelevant.

The prosecutor tried to have me put on death row. The only reason I got off with such a relatively easy deal was because Lorthiras is probably the most amazing yet dishonest and underhanded lawyer on Azeroth. That man would defend Archimonde himself, and would probably win the case too.

You're alive. That's a fact. Jarinta is safe for now. That's a fact. If those three miscreants die, they brought it on to themselves.

And it's a fact that I'm arguing with an imaginary voice in my head, he thought. Khujand focused as much as he could on loosening his jaw muscles, relaxing his back and and controlling his breathing as he drifted off miraculously fast given what he had done that night. He had a big day ahead of him tomorrow.

Feeling the call of nature, Khujand woke up just after dawn. After relieving himself, the most he could do was wash his hands, face and feet - the weather was so cold that he only bathed one every few days and only around high noon. He rushed to finish up in the bathroom, put his shoes on and get out. He had a long day of networking ahead.

As he crept out into the hallway, he braced his hands on both walls to lighten his uncontrollably heavy footsteps. Sneaking on wooden floors was far more difficult than sneaking on pounded earth with a light covering of snow. Once he got downstairs, he snuck around the back area carefully. Once he realized the area was clear, he ate a handful of dried berries and snuck out the sliding back door, jerry rigging the lock from the outside so noone would even know he had left. Thunderhorn, the huge tauren from the tavern last night, had mentioned that he was one of the stable hands. Khujand needed to get to Thunderhorn.

Only employees working in the absolute essential fields such as garbage collectors, street sweepers and water carriers were out and about at this morning at six o'clock, all under the watchful eyes of a few drowsy town guards. Khujand was able to hurry over to the town stables without anyone seeing him. Why he was worried about being seen in a town where he had socialized for a grand total of one half hour over the course of seven days, he did not know. Prison mode was hard to break out of, even when he was mixing it with the social and networking skills he was starting to regain.

Thunderhorn was already saddling up the larger frostwolves when he saw Khujand come around the corner. "Khujand! You disappeared on us last night! How does your head feel?" The tauren was grinning. Khujand had tried to resist their drinks as long as he could, though he essentially succumbed to drinking a bit from Zorena's mug before the dancing had started.

"I be fine, Thunderhorn, fine enough to work. And if you don' mind me askin, I overheard you say to Patina last night that you be meetin a caravan of industrial and carpentry supplies halfway on their trek back this mornin." He needed to get someone he could trust out of town to speak, to gather support. He didn't know anybody other than Ushka well enough to trust them, but for whatever reason his paranoia did not turn his suspicions on certain races in general - pandaren, draenei and tauren for the most part. It was stereotyping, but at this point his thinking wasn't 100% rational.

"Hmm...to be honest Khujand, we have extra frostwolves but there's already enough help and not enough pay to go around as it is. It would be a tough sell to the son of a cousin of a cousin of a trade prince that owns the stables." Thunderhorn almost felt embarrassed to admit that there wasn't a place for one more.

"I don' want money, actually. I need to talk to you, outside of town. You got one more man here, totally free of charge. I just need your ear for a while." He could tell that his voice sounded pleading, and he hoped it would stir the old tauren's heart. Thunderhorn looked at the big jungle troll for a moment before sighing heavily.

The trek out to meet the caravan halfway took a few hours, and there was a delay when the only wagon among the pack animals suffered from a broken wheel. It was times like that when Khujand didn't regret his size. Jungle troll men were ideally slim and lanky like runners; Khujand's muscles had poor definition but he was much bulkier, and Darkspear women sometimes remarked that he was too big for their taste. He developed a self consciousness about being built like a forest or ice troll that melted away in situations like the broken wagon wheel. The rest of the caravan workers were amazed at how Khujand and Thunderhorn held up the entire wagon by themselves for the ten minutes it took the forsaken wagon driver to repair and test the wheel. As his confidence increased, he found it easier to open up and behave normally with people on the outside.

It was during the trek out to meet the wagon that Khujand opened up about what had happened to Jarinta the night before, though he left out the details of how badly he had wounded the three attackers for fear of appearing as bad as them. It was on the way back that he felt the sincerity and warmth of Thunderhorn come out. The old tauren had not only believed his story, but was angry enough to suggest spreading word among the guards and testifying to Khujand's honesty.

"The settlement of Thunder Pass is a new community, but these are almost all good people who left their lives on Azeroth behind for the sake of defending it," Thunderhorn lectured. "Harassment of any person is not something to be taken lightly, especially of the underaged." He exhaled heavily in disapproval, surprising Khujand with how seriously he took the troll's story. "Neither you nor she have anything to worry about."

"I'm glad you believin me. I be new here. You coulda said I was jus some drifter causin trouble," Khujand said.

"I read people well," his horned friend answered. "I'm not skilled at many things, but that's something I can do. We will inform the town guard of what happened, and things will get back to normal." His voice was confident.

By the time they had returned to Thunder Pass, it was already past noon. Some of the craftspeople in the town were lined up by the railing on the natural ramp leading up to the raised settlement, ready to help carry supplies off of the wagons and animals by hand. It would certainly make the trek up the ramp a lot easier.

The two new compatriots moved ahead and returned the frostwolves to their stable, relieved to leave the supplies behind in the hands of able-bodied laborers and skilled workers who needed them. Thunderhorn attempted to introduce Khujand to the owner, though the goblin merely waved from behind a large financial report he was reading without looking up.

"He's a respectful guy and will remember this," Thunderhorn chuckled. "Don't take his sense of duty to our work personally."

"Not at all," Khujand replied. "He already did me a favor by lettin me tag along. Hey, will you guys be round the tavern tonight?"

"There's a second one on the opposite end of town. We like to switch things up a bit. Stop by after sunrise if you can, Snark is bringing a set of dice along. Don't worry, we only play for snacks, not cash."

"You can bet on it." Khujand spoke with confidence gained after feeling he was adjusting to normal life so quickly after the bloody confrontation the night before.

Although he knew he had to head back to the inn, he decided to check by the same tavern first and grab a small pastry. The caravan had waterskins the riders could share, though the only food available was a biscuit and some more berries. He wanted to spoil himself after the long ride.

Walking through the double doors, he saw the orc Patina and Kuma's sister Zorena chatting together near the bar. They hadn't seen him come in, though he moved in their direction. He wasn't looking to flirt, but after being around nothing but other men for so many years - aside from the occasional female guards and labor overseers - he was happy to finally have the opportunity to make female friends again. He enjoyed hearing women talk and listening to their perspectives in a way he couldn't quite explain. Even Ushka scolding him for cutting too deep into a kill or returning from a hunt empty handed was like a breath of fresh air.

As he approached their table, the two women looked at him a bit wide-eyed as though they were surprised. It seemed odd; they had only seen him last night. Their reaction didn't make sense to him.

"Sorry ladies, was I interruptin something?" He held his hand on the back of a chair but waited for their answer before sitting down.

"No, it's alright," Patina muttered while still appearing in some sort of shock. "Actually, it's better. Do you feel okay?" She had a concerned look on her face that made Khujand uncomfortable as he sat down. He tried his best to act normal, taking one of her pastries without realizing that grabbing food from someone's plate was socially inappropriate. In prison it would start a fight; outside, he thought it must be the opposite among friends. He was still learning.

"Yeah, I just be hungry after workin that caravan with Thunderhorn," he said with a mouth full of jelly and dough. "Wow, does this have strawberry in it?"

The two women were staring at him incredulously now and he tried to continue eating to hide his awkwardness. Surely he must have done something wrong. Should he put the half-eaten pastry back on Patina's plate?

"We heard you had left before everyone was up and went with Thunderhorn," Zorena said, breaking the silence. "You...you don't know? If you just got back, I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Well, tell me then! What happenin?" He tried to finish the pastry too fast, not noticing the vegetable delivery kid speaking with the cashier behind the bar.

"Shame what happened to that troll girl at the inn, isn't it?" The cashier was nodding sadly as the delivery kid continued. "They said her roommate just found her dead in her sleep around eight this morning. We just had a peon die of a heart attack two days ago, too." The next few sentences fell on deaf ears.

"Patina! Patina!" Zorena was already out of her chair.

"What? Oh, the pastry!"

"Get him out of the chair, he can't breathe. Goodness, he's heavy! Help me!"

"He's making choking sounds! Can you hear me right now?"

"I know a maneuver to get it out of his throat!" The delivery kid came rushing as the two women each had a hold of one of Khujand's arms.

"Hold him! Hold him! He's tipping backward!"

"Why does he have to weigh so much!"

The whole exchange took place even faster than the fight the night before. The last thing he could remember was the table flying far away from him as he passed out.