The hours without Rywen were painful, and Jacqueline began to wonder what the waifish night elf must have been worth, and, a little cynically, whether or not the High Priestess was invested enough in Rywen to do something drastic. The orcs who eventually brought her back were significantly less kind than the troll from the day previous, staying only long enough to tie Rywen up and briefly stare Jacqueline down. The night elf was even worse for wear this time, a large gash splitting the side of her head and blood soaking her hair.

The growls rumbled deep in Jacqueline's chest, and Rywen's gentle smile silenced them.

Rywen met Jacqueline's eyes and held them, gaze unwavering, broken only as the door swung open again. Jacqueline's howl escalated as the door opened louder, and in hushed but angry tones, Jun'ghan whispered, "I be tryin' tah help yah, yah stupid wolf!"

Rywen's glance stifled Jacqueline's growls to a snarl, and the mage stepped in, followed by another, darker-skinned troll. The second troll narrowed his eyes at Jacqueline, murmuring something in Zandali to Jun'ghan, who shook his head.

"What are they saying?" Jacqueline asked Rywen in slow Darnassian, and Rywen actually laughed. The trolls stopped talking at that, her musical tones attracting their attention.

"I am sorry, dear friend," Rywen said, still chuckling, answering in the same tongue, "It feels like years since I have heard Darnassian. It has only been two days, but it feels like it has been years. I know little Zandali."

The trolls conversed briefly once more, and then Jun'ghan said, "Razke be one of the best healers I know." Razke nodded slowly, still eyeing Jacqueline warily, and the worgen bared her teeth at him. The shaman rolled his eyes, saying something to his friend in Zandali. Jun'ghan chuckled, and Razke stepped slowly towards the priestess, checking first the wound on her head.

"That is the worst," Rywen said softly, and the shaman nodded, hands glowing slightly. Rywen shuddered as the healing was performed, and Jacqueline's growls rumbled deep in her throat. Razke looked towards the worgen sharply, rapping her over the head once with his staff and reprimanding her in Zandali. Jacqueline caught the staff briefly in her teeth before Razke ripped it away.

"His healing not be hurtin' her, stupid wolf." Jun'ghan's tone was flat and unimpressed.

"How am I to know he heals her, troll?" Jacqueline bristled.

"He heals me, Jacqueline," Rywen said as Razke worked his way to some of the smaller lacerations. "I have never truly become accustomed to shaman healing. My healing feels very sterile compared to this… but I suppose you know that."

Jacqueline did. Of all the types of healing, druid and shaman healing had lives of their own. It was like having nature itself flow through one's blood, and for Jacqueline that had always been empowering, giving her another boost to fight. To a priest, though, she could imagine it was a bit shocking to the system. The Light was cool and measured, and nature was wild and unpredictable, even if their intentions were the same.

Razke stepped back, appraising her and speaking Common. "I be certain yah don't feel da best still, but did I get da worst of it?"

Rywen nodded. "Elune guide you, shaman."

Razke smiled softly. "Der be more I could do, but I be scared of patchin' yah up too well. Last thing dem orcs need to see is someone havin' fixed yah up." Razke turned, making for the door, and then changed his mind briefly. He turned back to face Jacqueline. "And as for you, little wolfie, dem orcs'll eat da both of yah if yah ain't a little more careful who ya snip at."

Jacqueline bit back the retort she had in store; troll or not, enemy or not, he had still done more for Rywen in the past hours than she had been able to.

"Fus'obeah fu." The words were like poison on her lips, but she said them nonetheless. Razke cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Where you been learnin' Zandali?" The shaman asked Jacqueline and flicked a glance to Jun'ghan, who looked away, suddenly very interested in a fixture on the wall. Razke sighed, glancing back at the door before speaking briefly to Rywen again. "I don't know for sure what dey be wanting from yah, but if yah don't give it to dem, dere be no way that this be endin' good for yah. And yah might want tah leash your dog, or at least convince her tah leash herself."


The shaman and the mage slipped away silently, and once they were safely away from the cell where the priestess and warrior were being held, Razke rapped Jun'ghan over the head in the same way he had done to Jacqueline before.

"Could have warned me about the worgen. Her teeth looked as big as my tusks," the shaman hissedto Jun'ghan, who rubbed his head. "They had spared no expense on the night elf, though. Whatever she knows, they want it desperately."

"The Warchief told me they wanted her only to harm the Alliance forces at Ashenvale," Jun'ghan stated simply. Razke shook his head, going over the injuries she had sustained once more in his head.

"No," the shaman said. "They would have killed her already had they simply wanted to keep her away from her people."

Jun'ghan cocked an eyebrow. "You do know you said, 'they,' Razke?"

"They are orcs, Jun'ghan. Tell me you want to be associated with them and I will certainly begin including them," Razke scoffed and crossed his arms, staff still in hand.

Jun'ghan sighed and shrugged, further digesting Razke's words. "So you think they," Jun'ghan emphasized for effect, "have greater plans for the elf?"

"Or that Tyrande Whisperwind did," Razke spoke solemnly. "Be wise, my friend. Your nose is wandering into places it doesn't belong."

Jun'ghan looked to the ground almost sheepishly. He was still unsure of how to come to terms with why he had wanted to help the elf. In fact, the mage didn't know if there even was an answer, and even if there was, he didn't think it would matter to anyone who happened to find out.

Rywen was not sure how much more of this she could take. Jacqueline was not always the most astute of companions, but even the worgen had begun to notice the true toll that was being taken on the elf. Cynically, Rywen wondered whether the shaman's healing would be a help or a hindrance. Once again, she felt almost normal, but now it would be taken away all over again. The trolls' intentions had been good, of that Rywen had no doubt, but it may have been a mistake in the long run. Now the orcs had a well patched-up rag doll to tear apart all over again.

Perhaps the most frustrating was the fact that her own agency was gone. The shaman was a good healer, but after growing so used to her own style, it pained Rywen almost more to know that she couldn't heal herself, much less anyone else.


Rywen was no fool. She could see, easily, that the mage had taken pity on her, and the elf was thankful. Without Jun'ghan, she might have been dead already. Orcs respected trolls barely more than they respected anyone from the Alliance, but obviously Jun'ghan held enough power to transport prisoners, and that counted for something, however small.

Rywen had never been particularly fond of trolls, or even the idea of trolls. Frankly, she hadn't been all that fond of worgen before Jacqueline had come along, and the elf really didn't know how the prickly warrior had managed to weasel her way into Rywen's heart. Trolls, though… they were different. Trolls were other from night elves in a way that almost no other race could even come close to, and when the words had come out of her mouth, Rywen couldn't believe that she was saying them.

"They say that my people and yours were one, once."

It had only taken one session of torture to break her so much that she had been willing to grovel for mercy at the feet of a troll. For centuries, night elves had tried to distance themselves from trolls. Rywen still didn't know if they and the trolls were descended from the same people. She wasn't sure that anyone would ever know. Even stranger, he had been kind when she had said it. She had been pitiable, and he had pitied her even when he had no reason to.

Jacqueline didn't understand why she defended him, but it didn't matter. Rywen still was a night elf, but if her best friend was a worgen, who was to say their savior couldn't be a troll?

While Jacqueline hung in chains beside her, Rywen sang a prayer to Elune, and the warrior closed her eyes in reverence. Whether Rywen made it out alive or not, at least she still had Jacqueline and the Light for now.


She had left Genn Greymane behind to keep eyes on Ashenvale. He had argued with the High Priestess, wishing to be the one to go instead, feeding her some nonsense about how she was "indispensable," but Tyrande Whisperwind had readied nine of her bravest and most loyal. She would not ask them to do anything she herself wouldn't do, and so, with a rogue on each side, the ten of them breached the border to Azshara.

With a flick of her wrist, Tyrande sent one of the rogues forward to scout while the rest of the group moved forward at a slower pace. The warrior next to her bounced on his heels as they walked, an almost disrespectful spring in his step. Time passed quickly and slowly all at once, with every step the raid took placing them that much closer to Orgrimmar. Tyrande positioned her team safely from the city's entrance (if you could call this unorganized group of buildings a city) and waited for her scout to return. Safely veiled by the other rogue's cloak of shadows, the air was tense, and briefly, Tyrande doubted her own wisdom in recruiting only night elves for this mission. She had promised Genn that she would do everything in her power to rescue Jacqueline as well as Rywen, safe and sound, and while Tyrande did trust those who she had chosen, they would certainly prioritize Rywen. If she was honest with herself, Tyrande herself would probably do the same.

A muffled grunt drew her from her thoughts, and Tyrande whipped around to the left to see that the rogue scout had returned, dispatching a warlock who had gotten a little too close. "The streets are quiet," the rogue said, dropping the body of the warlock to the side. "It was wise to bring a small group." The rogue briefly detailed his plan of approach, and Tyrande nodded briskly.

"We will do our best to remain undetected," the priestess said to them all, "but be advised; I am not afraid to fight today."

And so, they wove their way through the back alleys of Orgrimmar, the rogues distracting those who wandered a little close. No matter the occasion, a raid on a Horde city was no small feat; it was nigh impossible to account for changes in city layout, and cities were much less predictable than even wandering into Onyxia's lair, simply because cities could fool one into believing they knew much more than they truly did. Call it a need to believe in one's own knowledge or being lulled into a false sense of security, Tyrande was more nervous than she let on about entering Orgrimmar in the dead of night.


oops long time no see! sorry i'm bad; so much is going on and i finally started playing wow again and basically i have no excuse but i'm just not good at keeping commitments. hope you enjoyed, friends :)

- syrasha xx