Haunted Not Enough

They had spent most of the next few days avoiding any signs of Alliance in the Western Plaguelands. With Arthas Menethil's downfall, his power had lessoned greatly and now it seemed the land itself was finally recovering from the plague that had stricken the old human haunts. Humans and all sorts had begun to move back in, reclaiming what they believed to be rightfully theirs. On some levels, it made sense to the once human warrior now sat on a saddle that was magically balanced on what remained of his warhorse's bones and muscle hidden by a ochre cloak. It had belonged to them once... all the way from Tirisfal to Stratholme. But then... they had not asked for their undeath, it wasn't their fault that they were no longer mindless minions of the Lich King but loyal soldiers to the Dark Lady that was Sylvanas Windrunner. It really should not have mattered to the Alliance...

But it did.

They were too much like the scourge.

Sokaron scowled as he glanced at the recovering greenery. They had dealt with some of the remaining diseased bears, wolves and the occasional spider as they were nearing Andorhal. They decided they would stop by at the Forsaken claimed half where a lot of rebuilding was going on to replace the old, decrepit buildings of the old human city. Perhaps they would see Koltira... the death knight was well known by now for all his achievements. It was rather interesting to know even the undead weren't overly comfortable with a death knight around. But then, they had been the cold heroes of Arthas's personal guard once.

"Ah, here be the trail," Rozoru announced softly before they turned their mounts towards the Forsaken buildings. The placed was shrouded in a dark mist that clung greedily to the leering buildings that surrounded them. Sokaron glanced up and saw a bat fly over heard before bringing his warhorse to a halt along with the others. They dismounted and took rest where they weren't in the way but it was not long before they attracted attention. Or rather Faranor did.

"Not often we get Paladins here let alone the seasoned sort," The voice that spoke was ethereal and cold. Sokaran could see the druid and shaman regard the Death Knight with a definite note of wariness that Koltira seemed to find amusing.

"I don't usually stop by this place," Faranor replied lifting his chin with that usual note of arrogance that all his kind bore. Even Koltira was doing it and Sokaron watched them. There was a curious familiarity with how Faranor treated the other. Perhaps they knew each other once. It wasn't unheard of, Elves lived longer life spans than most that lived in Azeroth.

"Indeed Faranor Thorongil. Your face is not easy to forget." The Death Knight replied resting on the butt of his sword as Faranor continued to regard him cynically and the Paladin only inclined his head. "Well, what brings you to Andorhal, Faranor... As you can see we are busy,"

"We're en route to Light's Hope."

'Light's Hope, eh? What for?" Sokaron was tiring of this to and fro of two elves that clearly had a history. It was not much of Koltira's business but since the death knight did not seem inclined to leave things to rest, he stepped slightly forward of the paladin.

"We are under the Dark Lady's and the Warchief's orders and part of those orders require us to see Highlord Tirion Fordring. I believe you have your mission here, Deathweaver and we have ours. Given Sylvanas' intentions for the Western Plaguelands, it is best for neither of us to forget it," he stated, his voice flat and cold before he stalked off in the usual hunched way of Forsaken.

"What ate his apple?" Koltira muttered darkly, eyes narrowing at the back of the warrior with a hand to the hilt of his runeblade, Bifrost, which glowed with the man's dark power.

"He don't talk much but when he does... ouch," Jonathan piped up causing Faranor to groan and grumble slightly as the Forsaken pushed forwards with Kara in tow. The diseases canine sniffed at Koltira before seeming to shrug and promptly sat on her master's feet. "But the Dark Lady likes him, I think,"

"Course she likes him, Jonathan," Faranor spoke, "He does little else but obey orders and she likes those who obey." His eyes rolled but Koltira did not miss the ruefulness and the hint within them and he smirked slightly before nodding.

"Very well then," he gestured to the grubby place with an extension of his arm, "Gather what supplies you need but do not tarry my soldiers. Our battle to win Andorhal must go on," he replied in his ethereal voice before he hefted Bifrost into the holster on his back as he turned and walked away to join two Forsaken who were busy consulting and arguing over what looked like a map of the ruined city. The group split up to gather what they needed to replenish but Faranor chose to seek Sokaron out.

He found the man sat on a wall that had yet to be finished by the Forsaken builders and joined him. They sat in comparable silence before the elf broke it much to the warrior's irritation. Sokaron had come to enjoy it, the soft stillness broken only by the calls of birds that flew from tree to tree. It was peaceful, not something most warriors could appreciate but Sokaron was not always so full of hate or rage. He could see the merit behind reserved wariness of the quiet-minded.

"Have you thought more about when we reach Stormwind?"

"I'm thinking that the Warchief had better be right in his estimations," he replied blandly before giving the other a look that Faranor found hard to read. The straps holding the man's skull together did not help with facial expressions, well, that of which Sokaron's remaining facial muscles could still do.

"You know what I meant," Faranor frowned before watching a nearby spider pounce on a rabbit unlucky to have bounded the wrong way after being chased by a fox. You knew things were getting better when foxes were around and looked healthy. He muttered under his breath and his swift judgement at least put the rodent out of its misery quickly. The spider carried it back to its hiding place looking quite smug with itself... or at least the elf thought it did.

"I have no family, Faranor," he replied blandly, "My life is dead. I live in undeath now. What use would they have for me other than to decapitate me? I'm the enemy to them... part of the scourge,"

"Don't believe in that propaganda," Faranor chided, "You had a family who loved you as all Forsaken did in their life before their dark rebirths. They deserve to know what happened to their father and you deserve to see if they're doing well for themselves. Your undeath changes nothing, what's happened to you is through no fault of your own. They can't blame you for what Arthas did to you. It's a shame the Alliance don't realise that,"

"Yes, they wonder why Forsaken hate them in return and are called thus," Sokaron replied softly. He still did not see what benefit he would get out of finding out what happened to his family when was human. Only so far that it might rid the nightmarish dreams that persisted in plaguing him.

"Well, that is true," Faranor nodded, "And I have no shame in admitting that I too do find Forsaken difficult to understand but I have patience and a willingness to get along. Arthas paid the price for all that he did and we have to move on, no matter who or what we are."

Sokaron looked at him then and smiled finding that his respect for the paladin further in his estimations. A chill wind caressed their skin and he watched the blood elf shiver whereas Sokaron paid it no heed. "I too find the living hard to understand," he said evenly, eyes on the paladin, "They're too complicated."

The Blood Elf chuckled, "Yes, but it makes us who we are. I am going to rest. I shall talk to you later."

"I'll see to the horses,"

"Thank you. Octavius deserves extra oats... I have pushed him too greatly and I think I will need to ask more of him"

"Worry not, Faranor. I will see to it," he turned as Faranor moved off, "And Faranor?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you,"

The paladin considered the man's words for a moment before he saluted the warrior and moved off to find some available sleeping quarters. Sokaron remained on the wall for quite some time staring almost into nothing. He hoped their mission would go according to plan and nothing would get in their way. Hopefully, he could return back to boring tasks that he didn't have to pay mind to soon enough.

It was early next morning before it was deemed fit for them to make their leave. Jonathan and Sokaron had readied the horses, wolf and raptor; though with the last two it had taken some doing given the snappish nature of both creatures. Jonathan had cursed the timber wolf and emerald raptor many times much to his diseased wolf's amusement. Troll, Orc and Elf soon emerged from the sleeping quarters that Deathweaver had provided for them and they shared a quick ration of breakfast before they all mounted up. They were about to depart when Deathweaver himself blocked the way on his undead horse that seemed to have no discernible personality of its own.

"There is a task I would ask of you, Faranor."

"Being, Koltira?" the Paladin returned questioningly. The death-knight smirked and urged his horse onwards, halting once he was next to Thorongil's Thelassian charger.

"Give this to Tirion. He will know what to do with it."

Sokaron glanced at the folded paper that Koltira passed onto the other blood elf and did not fail to notice that it had been sealed with a red substance with the imprint of the bared teeth of a lion's face. A sign that it had been written by a hand of the Alliance, a fact which put Koltira in some question. The Knight's of the Ebon Blade had returned to their former allegiances before their untimely death and rebirth by Arthas. Handing this back unread to the Alliance was somewhat risky to a member of the Horde. However, he did not speak out though he rather suspected the others had seen it before Faranor took the missive and pocketed it safely out of sight.

"That much I will do."

Koltira nodded and nudged his horse once more moving out of their way and waved them off, his face unreadable as his eyes glowed steadily with blue fire. The procession moved on out of Andorhal and onwards to the Easten Plaguelands where Light's Hope stood. They went in the same formation as before with Kara bounding about the feet of the mounts. They kept to a steady pace, galloping at intervals and walking at others when the mounts needed some rest. They reached the bridge that connected one plagueland to the one opposite and to something they did not expect.

They all slowed as they approached a caravan of dark oak and purple cloth with a woman stood out front looking perturbed or as if looking for something lost. It certainly grabbed the paladin's attention and he brought his destrier to a stop, which resulted in all of them stopping and ignoring the mutterings of the nearby goblin flightmaster. It was not only because she looked lost and alone that they had stopped, but because she was something most had only heard about in tale.

The woman was quite definitely a member of the fallen city Gilneas, a member of the Alliance who were all now Worgen more or less. A new race in themselves now. The woman looked at them and regarded them for a moment with now outward signs of hatred. Worgens had aligned with the Alliance once again and had a new home by thanks of Tyrande, the leader of Darnassus, home to the Night Elves.

"Milady," Faranor began, and it was clear he was used to being around members of the Alliance, "What troubles you?"

"Two friends of mine have misplaced themselves. They are young and overly curious. I had hoped they would return soon," she replied, her voice gruff and almost more male than female. "One is like you, a blood elf. The other a dwarf,"

"Are they with mount, lady?"

"No, so they could not travel far, I would think. I would go find them myself, dear sir but I cannot leave my caravan and horses unguarded,"

"I'm sure we can delay our mission long enough to find them," Faranor replied and Rok'thar growled slightly.

"Time is of the essence, Paladin,"

"Yes. I'm exactly that. Honour dictates that I lend my assistance. Besides, I believe it would put us in good standing with Fordring and the others if we were to lend assistance."

Rok'thar and Faranor continued to argue the point for some time before one of the others had had enough of their childish quarrelling.

"Enough! The both of you," Sokaron snapped and Rozoru murmured agreement as the warrior took charge of the situation. "We will assist. If it puts us in good standing with Fordring, the more chance we have of even getting into Stormwind and I don't suppose any of you want to lose their head. Jonathan, remain here and keep on watch. Faranor, you're with me. Rozoru with Rok'thar. Lady, what are their names and what direction roughly?"

"Gidwin Goldbraids went that way and Tarenar Sunstrike went in that direction," she gestured with her clawed hands seeming to take in the argument without preamble. "My name is Fiona, and I would be much obliged."

Sokaron nodded and then signalled for them to move out and headed in Gidwin's apparent direction. Faranor joined him as Rozoru and Rok'thar moved off to find Tarenar as Jonathan and Fiona launched into conversation.

"Clearly used to leading,"

"No. I just don't think arguing helps a situation," Sokaron blandly replied.

"My apologies, but you know how orcs are," he replied sourly and the undead shook his head in silence.

They continued on and it did not take them long to find the golden-haired dwarf but did not expect a shouting albeit subdued cobwebbed mass to greet them. Whether the dwarf realised they were there or not was unclear as they dismounted. Sokaron's gut flared and he unhooked his two-handers. As if feeling the sense of danger even more, the seasoned paladin muttered under his breath, his words as if a song. Sokaron felt stronger than before with the man's blessing and approached the trapped cursing dwarf.

So sooner had he taken a few steps when a clicking mass of bony skeletal legs rushed out, the head of the insectoid beasts standing many above Sokaron's own. Its scythed arm-like appendages attached to the chest of the thing reached out to grab the once human warrior. Sokaron threw a battle shout and side-stepped it, blades swerving to cut a piece out from its midsection. It screamed shrilly in anger and pain before knocking him back in punishment. Thankfully, the dwarf had shut up seeming to finally realised something was out here other than giant bugs.

But the damage was done, two more of the foul creatures appeared drawn by the racket that the dwarf and undead had made. Sokaron battled the slimy things that were clearly some horrid mutated forms of spiders. With Faranor healing him, keeping his spirits up and adding his own blade and shield to the fray, it was not long before warrior and paladin stood in the dead mass of black ichor and the exoskeletons of the spider-beings.

"Well, that was fun," Faranor breathed, wiping ichor off his gauntlets. Sokaron grunted before he moved towards the trapped dwarf, sheathing one of his two-handers before using the other to free the dwarf from his sticky prison. The dwarf spilled out and coughed heartily before accepting Faranor's hand to stand up.

"Oh hi!" the stout man greeted and seemed awed by the presence of the paladin there. Faranor smiled and made the introductions as Sokaron made sure no more of the beastly spider-beings showed up. Satisfied, he returned.

"We should make a move back to the caravan,"

"Fiona! Oh my, she'll be so worried! I was seeing if I could get any kills... oh, "

"Slow down, Gidwin. We're here on her behalf," Faranor soothed and lead the way to where the horses where hitched.

"Oh good! Good! Will I be ridin' with ye,"

"Of course," Sokaron muttered, "With him," and he vaulted into the saddle of his warhorse. Faranor sighed before he got on his and helped the stouter man up. They galloped back to where they had met the worgen female to find that Rok'thar and Rozoru had yet to arrive.

"Gidwin Goldbraids! I have been worried sick!" Fiona chided soon as she saw the dwarf but her hurt was not much compared with the relief clearly showing on her canine face. The dwarf hopped down and moved over to her. Sokaron and Faranor left them to their conversation as they moved off to one side to talk with Jonathan.

"Been chatting to Frax and Fiona."

"Frax?"

"The Goblin there, Fara. Anyway, apparently Eastern Plaguelands has been seeing a lot of Crusade activity lately. Been rebuilding the old watchtowers,"

"Well, that would make sense. What with the scourge easier to eradicate, the Lich King dead and the land coming back to life, Fordring and the rest have more time to focus on other matters," Faranor replied.

"According to Frax and his Goblin friends back in Orgrimmar, there are rumours that Thrall might be going to Outland and soon,"

"Hm," Rok'thar grunted, "If that is true, then I fear Eitrigg will have a hard time keeping Garrosh in check,"

Faranor and Sokaron both glanced to the orc and troll who had just arrived with a wide-eyed blood elf in tow. The orc did not seem best pleased with having to retrieve what she would have called an elf pup but also seemed enamoured with the political turning of the conversation.

"Yes, but Garrosh Hellscream has always been thus. I doubt very much Thrall would leave an inexperienced leader completely alone to rule." Faranor breathed thoughtfully and Rozoru laughed nodding. Sokaron could see the flinches Tarenar and Gidwin both made at the harsh, almost cruel sound.

"Aye mon, he'd ask one other others to help and not j'st Eitrigg. I imagine Cairne will yet have a hand to play in the future of young Garrosh,"

"Why not Vol'Jin?" Jonathan asked before he could think it through and the troll looked at him lengthily for a moment.

"I do not t'ink that Garrosh would follow Vol'jin's advice. People are still too suspicious about us Trolls, mon, 'im included. This you cannot deny, Rok'thar. I don't t'ink the orc has ever liked Trolls, Vol'jin especially."

"No, he is brash and untrained in the arts of leadership. One can hope he listens to Cairne Bloodhoof," the orc agreed, nodding sending her high ponytail everywhere.

Sokaron smiled as far as he could before he turned for the worgen female, "We must press on Lady Fiona. You will be all right now?"

"Oh, yes thank you all for your help," the Worgan smiled and shook his hand.

"Where ye all headed?" the dwarf next to her asked and Sokaron did no fail to notice how the strange pair of dwarf and elf could not stop staring at Faranor.

"Light's Hope, we need to speak with Highlord Fordring,"

"You best hurry then Warrior," Fraz piped up from where he stood by a wind-rider, "I 'ear he's off ta Hearthglen soon,"

"I could send an owl to let him know to wait for your arrival," Fiona offered, "It's the least I can do for what you have done for me,"

Farnor nodded, "That would be gracious of you, MiLady,"

The worgen female nodded and went into her caravan before coming out a little while later with a own perched on her forearm and a parchment in her other hand. Sokaron let Faranor write the message to his superior knowing his own handwriting was far from neat. The paladin rolled the parchment and popped it into the carry case attached to the owl's legs.

"To Light's Hope, little one. We shall find you there," Fiona murmured and the owl hooted before it spread its wings and took to the skies flying off in the direction of the paladin capitol.

"Thank you," Sokaron said, nodding to her as they all remounted their waiting creatures.

"It's my honour. Travel well my friends," she bowed her head and with hearty goodbyes from all, they were once again on their journey.