"I don't care what Lady Sylvanas says, I hate Orgrimmar", Valefic mumbled to himself. Turning to his right, into the Cleft of Shadow, he shot a cold glance back over his shoulder at the Orc grunts guarding the drag. The two guards were conversing in hushed tones and looking at him before noticing his stare and continuing on patrol. "Typical Orcs", he sighed, continuing down the ramp and into the depths of the city.
Thinking about it, he didn't mind so much that the entire orcish horde was less than comfortable with him. As a Forsaken, he had become acquainted with the prejudice everyone had based upon appearance. I could even understand those guards, he mused, I am walking the streets of their city in the dead of night, and their job is to be on alert. Still pondering his situation, the bony wanderer let himself into a small tent set up on a dark shelf overlooking the Ragefire Chasm. Seating himself, he set about summoning some health and firestones for the coming battle in Arathi Basin.
Blasted orcs don't know how good they have it. Sure, their planet got torn apart by some crazed Warlocks, and I understand why they hate me for the powers I control. Now they would damn me from their high ground of shamanistic culture. They understand nothing. Orcs fail to appreciate how easy they have it. Upon learning the "error" of demonic ways like mine, they can happily regain their lost paths and traditions. How much simpler life would be to the Forsaken with just such a tradition to regain, he thought.
"May I enter brother?" a familiar voice questioned. Quickly Valefic rose to his feet and began to greet his guest. "Was your journey here long Leon? I had heard you were far afield as of late", Valefic asked. "Oh aye little brother, I was stuck way out in the Desolace region, but I cannot tell you much more. Your old friend Bonesplitter was involved, that much I can say." explained the heavily armored Forsaken as he sat himself down. "Ah, say no more then, I am grateful our work of shadows has brought us together once more at least", the warlock stated as he lit an unnatural fire from a flick of his hand and settled down himself. The brothers spoke long into the early morning, but the younger of the two could not keep his mind from wandering.
Leon is a good example, his internal reasoning began, Leon had nothing to go back to. Myself, I had my demonology from my past, but Leon, he had lost everything. Leon, his elder brother, had been a Knight of the Silver Hand. Struck down in battle and resurrected as a pawn of Arthas, he regained his senses during the wane of the Death Knight's powers. Leon had wandered for months, his powers over the light stripped from him by the curse of undeath. When he stumbled upon the Forsaken, he was happily accepted into the fold, and eventually reunited with his younger brother. He had felt the pain of this new existence perhaps more than anyone, which do not go unnoticed by the Banshee Queen. Perhaps feeling for his situation, she offered the brothers employment as agents, which was hastily accepted. Now a simple warrior, Leon served his Queen well.
That is why I fight, and that is what the orcs will never understand, the warlock thought. No other group can comprehend the plight of the Forsaken, the unbearable loss.
While the orcs could take solace in their shamanism, and their newfound heritage, those like the brothers would fight each and every day to carve out a meaningful future for the rebellious dead, in the hope of having the luxury of one day looking back and taking refuge in a new hope and hiding away the old ways.
Around the same time that the undead brothers had doused their fire and parted ways, Retsuja awoke and started her day. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her mate, Raskal. Locating her white and blue robe, she dressed and attended to her daily routine. Reaching out a three fingered hand, the slender troll retrieved a thin strip of leather and tied her hair into an inverted ponytail. Raskal rolled over in his sleep, spearing his pillow on his large tusks. Retsuja chuckled lightly and exited the room they had rented.
The young troll set out for the valley of wisdom, and her mentors, hoping they could provide insight to guide her in the upcoming battle of the basin. As a priest of trolls, she walked the fine line between light and shadow, but found that she chose neither. Her commander in the Warsong battle had commented on her surprisingly gentle nature for a troll, a point that had given her much to think about. Before meeting again with her allies from the gulch, she would seek guidance from the sages, and meditate on her actions.
In the gulch, she had forcibly invaded the mind of a human, and still felt horrible about what she had seen. She had seen such rage, such power, before he had forced her out leaving a deep scar in her mind. She wondered if healing was possible, or if she had come to a point of no return. It almost felt like part of his mind had been burned into hers. She feared using such a technique again, yet she wondered if the mind of every human or every warrior felt like his. In confession, she would later divulge that her brief foray into the opponents mind had excited her. Suddenly, the path of shadows looked somewhat appealing.
While Retsuja sat in confession with her mentors, Raskal was rolling over and dislodging the pillow from his tusks. Stumbling out of his room in his civilian clothing, the troll looked like a blue-skinned monster. A small orc child walking by shrieked and ran from the sight of the feather covered, unkempt shaman. The troll soon found himself face to face with the tiny orc girl's father. The gigantic orc father steadied his axe and laughed deeply at the absurd looking troll. Raskal gave a quick bow to the orc and hurried outside.
Finally out in the open, Raskal called out to the elements and felt their embrace. Fires from the torches that lit his way danced around him, giving him warmth. The earth beneath his bare feet felt as though it was folding to meet his stride, propelling him forward. As he walked, the wind reached out and blew the feathers from his frame, sweeping its chosen troll into somewhat presentable shape. He even felt the water giving him life stir inside him, purging his body of its frailties.
The shaman who had served faithfully in Warsong Gulch was truly loved by the elements, a talent that the others of the Earthen Ring had commended him for. Unknown to most, Raskal had discovered a drawback of being the favored of nature's elements. As a conduit of the elements, he found himself more prone to the extremes of emotions, especially anger. Before his mate had convinced him to join in the battle for the gulch, he had taken assignments far afield, hoping that being alone with the elements and his own thoughts would balance him.
Coming to a stop in the valley of honor, he sat at a small table and silently watched the orcs go about their morning routines. Raskal found that he enjoyed observing others, if only to get a feel for how the other half lived. Shortly after, his watching was rewarded by a view he greatly appreciated. Retsuja stood before him with an armful of breakfast. Helping her lay out the food, he bit into his first mouthful of boar bacon. Real food never tasted as good as it did after weeks of field rations.
Toru Ragetotem, another of the gulch defenders strode into the small fort that was used to train the new generation of horde warriors. He saluted the instructor, an intimate friend of his, and readied his axe. The instructor, a female Tauren, leveled her claymore in a salute to her comrade and surged forward. Coming down from his high guard, Toru swept to his right and parried her charge. The forward motion of the charge propelled the opponent past him, landing her a mere foot from his exposed back. Without righting herself, the instructor took a reverse grip on her sword and thrust behind herself with both hands, hoping to catch Toru from behind. Dodging left, he hefted his axe in his left hand, pushing away her blade with his right. He spun like a top with his axe at the ready, cleaving air as his axe sought the opponent. The female warrior dropped her claymore and rolled backwards under the spinning great axe.
As she rolled she drew a small throwing axe. Struggling out of the roll and to her feet, she let the axe fly with startling speed. Toru heard the gasps of the students and the whistling of the axe. Quickly reversing his spin, he connected with the hurtling weapon using the flat of his axe head. His opponent saw him deflect the axe and charged once more, this time drawing a short sword. Toru feinted away from her and dropped his battleaxe; it seemed to the students that he was finished. Planting his right hoofed leg, he leveled his eyes on his friend and wound his muscles into a coiled stance. At the very last second, he fired forward with his huge right arm and grabbed the instructor by the throat, lifting her off the ground out of her charge.
For a moment the combatants held their position. The fight was over. Young orcs and trolls crowded around to congratulate Toru, who they were convinced had won. The instructor had a firm grip on his arm with her left hand, but as one student circled the fighters, the true result became apparent. Although Toru had a death grip on her neck, the instructor had the tip of her sword poised to bury itself into his exposed underarm. The fight was a draw.
"Well young ones, my friend Toru here has helped me show you that as warriors of the mighty horde, we must always be ready for anything, no matter the situation. No matter how many weapons you carry, you must always be ready to use those given to you by own body." explained the instructor. Toru gently lowered his friend to the ground and retrieved his axe. As she continued her lesson, he calmly walked out of the building and leaned himself against the cold stone walls.
Silently he thought back to the days he and the instructor, his former lover, had spent before they had parted ways. Both Tauren had grown up in the same nomadic group, and had come of age shortly after the battle of Mount Hyjal. During their training, they shared a very close relationship. After they were deemed ready to begin life as proper warriors, Toru chose to adventure for himself, a path that the instructor did not share. She had decided that a life dedicated to raising the next generation of the mighty horde was her calling, and she found many eager students willing to learn. Slowly, the two had drifted apart as Toru began to take assignments with his close friend Pharaine.
"Hey Toru, where are you?" came the soft voice of the instructor. Toru snorted loudly, and she jogged over to him. "You were on fire today my love, what happened in the gulch that pushed you forward? Your techniques were amazing!". "I killed many alliance warriors, but one nearly killed me with my own axe. It was…enlightening." he grunted in response. The instructor's happy expression dissipated, replaced by a solemn stare. "Oh, well take this, and come back to me in one piece Toru, I have to get back to my students." she whispered, placing a small trinket into his hands and kissing him on the cheek. Toru watched as she turned and jogged back into the building. He gazed down at his hand and saw the small handmade trinket she had given him. "I will Ayelen", he whispered, closing his hand around the trinket of carved horn and harpy feathers.
Even as those he commanded in the gulch were having their own adventures, Sergeant Pharaine and his mulgore lion had been up longer than any of them, and were hurrying to meet a contact. Jogging past the auction house with lion in tow, he finally found the person he was looking for. A slender Blood Elf waved to him, and he slowed to a walk as he approached. The female elf was Valencia, a mage he had been acquainted with for a few months. Early on he had been wary of her kind, but soon bonded with her over their shared love of nature.
"How much do I owe you for the portal Valencia?" the hunter inquired in his gruff voice, fishing into his belt pouch for his money. "Oh, it's on the house sweetie, just say hi to your family for me kay?" she responded in her impish voice, winking at him. "Valencia, you are too good to me. Have you given any thought to joining my team and me in Arathi Basin? We could use your talents."
The small elf's eyes looked skyward for a moment as she mentally went through her schedule. "I think I'm free, it's a date!" she exclaimed happily. As the huge Tauren gave her the details of the meeting place and time, the mage crafted a glowing portal. As they said their goodbyes, Pharaine called his feline companion and stepped through the swirling mass of magic.
Instantly both master and beast appeared in Thunder Bluff accompanied by a sick feeling in their guts. Pharaine thought for a moment that he would vomit, but it subsided. "I'll never get used to that arcane magic eh boy?" he said aloud to his lion. The huge cat only snorted and half nodded in response. "Yeah yeah, I know. Let's get home, maybe we can catch lunch if we hurry."
Conjuring the aspects of the cheetah, the hunter bolted at full speed out of the cave they arrived in and across the wooden bridge. Not to be outdone, the huge mulgore lion tore off after him. The prospect of a home cooked lunch pushed down any apprehension the pair had about another deployment, and they were grateful for it.