"No, you need to tighten the strap of his armlet a little more," Navarion instructed Taran, one of the local Raventusk children, as the boy assisted Hogar in donning his armor.
"He's doing fine," the perennially optimistic Orc chuckled as the young forest troll lad redid the leather armor strap a second time.
The little forest troll took to his task in earnest, displaying none of the laziness or lethargy many of the adults did when tasked with serving someone else. In truth, Hogar had donned his heavy plate enough times to know how to put it on himself, but they both saw it as a good opportunity for the energetic boy. Of course, few trolls ever wore armor, but perhaps this young generation would help the rest of them to catch up to the rest of the world.
Satisfied by a job well done, Hogar gave Taran a few copper coins. The members of the cartel, being representatives of a private conglomerate rather than a political faction, understood real world economics well and did their best to emphasize hard work to the local children rather than borrowing and lending at every opportunity they found.
"Thanks, mister!" Taran chirped in nearly unaccented Common, to the point where it almost sounded better than his Zandali as he ran off.
Old habits die hard, though, and the boy still forgot to close the flap of the tent behind him. The morning light filtered through the day before the planned assault on the bandit camp, and Navarion had ended up changing his sleeping schedule to take part in drills along with the locals. As physically powerful the forest trolls were, they completely lacked discipline, strategy and knowledge of advanced combat tactics. Against most foes, their low grunts and swift movements as they ran headfirst into their inevitably much smaller foes sent most potential enemies running away, and their swarm of tomahawks picked off the few that held firm. Were they to face enemies who understood that, however, they could easily be routed and outmaneuvered. And according to local legend, this Joachim fellow was not only familiar with the tactics of all the races of Lordaeron but also planned his battles well. To win this, Hogar explained to Vegnus and the others one night, they would need to at least train the Raventusk warriors to stand in formation and focus their efforts on one objective, if not necessarily work as a team.
All of that had to be achieved without letting them know why they were being trained on such short notice. It was only the third morning since they'd started, and the feedback was mixed. Some welcomed the diversion and saw it as a game, others wished to return to whatever it was illiterate villagers did in their free time.
Navarion and Hogar finished wearing their respective weapon sheaths and holsters and testing to make sure they wouldn't become detached during melee. When they finished, the young man waited for his father's old friend to lead the way out of the tent to start the day.
"Tell me what's new," the old Orc veteran asked while searching for his pipe. The morning sun lit up the stubble and scars on his chin, and it was a mystery why the man didn't smile more often considering how happy he was all the time.
Trying to think but not trying to think, Navarion once more fumbled for an answer to Hogar's riddles, rare and profound but always welcome. Not knowing whether the question was in reference to their group, the city or the project, he just spoke the first thing on his mind. "We're taking the fight to the thieves' doorstep."
Holding his pipe and searching for a match, Hogar didn't look up. He never did. "That is new," he confirmed, a little more occupied than usual as he failed to locate his matches.
Movement caught the half elf's eye near the break in the trees marking the entrance to the clearing. Dark brown disappeared into white contained in light brown, while forest green darted around in a circle. Turning fully, he saw Sharkasa, one of the local girls, laughing and playing a game of chase with Furball. The duskbat sat in a huge bucket of water, covered in soap suds as it tried to escape Sharkasa's scrubby brush. Beneath the surface of the bubbles it dove, popping up at random on different sides of the bucket as the child did her best to catch up and lather the flying mount's coat a little more.
In spite of Furball's occasional annoyances, Navarion couldn't help but laugh out loud at the scene. Neither child nor animal had a care in the world as they played, neither noticing nor caring that some of the people walking by stared. Navarion walked across the grassy clearing, taking a closer look at his pampered pet.
For a second, he considered making some sort of a joke, but thought twice. Little Sharkasa laughed so hard that she almost fell over, and Furball began jumping up and down in the sea of foamy bubbles regardless of whether she gave chase or not, thoroughly enjoying the unrestricted sudsiness, if that was even a word.
Deciding to let them be, Navarion looked back and saw that Hogar had begun to tell Nephentha and Traska a joke that involved bobbling his head as if it weren't attached to his neck, and the two of them were in stitches. The whole environment was infectious, and Navarion chuckled as well without even knowing why as he stepped out of the clearing and onto the main dirt road. For a split second, he thought he spied two burgundy eyes spying him once more before realizing they were two wild strawberries growing in a bush across from the clearing entrance. Raventusk reminded him of night elf towns to a startling degree in the sense that the many huts were interspersed by greenery, usually higher than their structures such that one got the feeling of communion with nature. He took his time walking over to the empty patch of grass that the axe throwers cordoned off by placing four boulders at each corner and calling it a drill yard. He was too far on the edge of the city to hear the bustle of the marketplace, but locals passed him while going about their business, so used to the presence of the half troll after a month and a half that many no longer greeted him profusely as was their habit with visitors they liked. They almost treated him like one of them, not staring or even taking note of the fact that he wore more clothing than they did or that his eyes bore a powerful silver glow.
Before he could reach the drill yard, however, he saw Vegnus far, far down the dirt road, waving to him urgently in the distance. Knowing that the dwarf was the last person to lose his cool, Navarion hurried over to see what the problem was.
As he approached, more people came into view in a little alcove between some storage huts. Taiji and Ven'jin were both there, leaning on staves that neither of them actually required for walking. A few of the Raventusk platoon leaders stood near Vegnus as well, everyone forming a half circle around a big person and a small person, though further details were difficult to make out in the group of bodies. They were speaking in low voices, too low for even Navarion's sensitive ears to hear until Jalinde and her scouting partner came into view in the center of the half circle.
"No, maybe not quite half," Jalinde panted to Taiji as though the ranger had just been running. There was little context to the conversation, but Navarion hung back next to Vegnus and tried to work it out on his own so as to avoid interrupting.
"So ya sayin' that they got even more than that up in tha hideout?" Taiji asked, an equal sense of urgency in her voice.
Taiji's scouting and hunting partner understood the Common being used in the conversation, but once again the young Raventusk woman had to answer in Zandali. "The elfie's count is correct. We counted a hundred before, but they must have attracted new recruits in the past week."
The big squadron leaders chattered in Zandali amongst themselves, but Ven'jin waved his hand at them as he switched the conversation to Common again. "If they're as close as ya say they are, then they're gonna be within strikin' distance in under two hours."
"That sounds absolutely correct," Jalinde replied, gripping her bow a little more tightly in reaction.
"Elder, this is an opportunity, not a crisis," Vegnus reasoned as all eyes fell to the short man. "If we strike now, we can take out nearly half of Joachim's fighters in one afternoon. Word will spread, yes, but the city council can order a lockdown until tonight."
"Ya're suggestin' that we march twice in one day?" Taiji asked skeptically.
"If the city is on lockdown, you'll have enough time for the tired and wounded te return, switch places with fresh fighters and restock the warband supply train. The troops can reach the hideout again within hours and - blammo!" Vegnus cried out while smacking his fist into his opposite hand. "They'll have only half their defenders left. They've made a big mistake by splittin' their forces in half."
Everyone fell silent for a moment as the two elders spoke to each other quietly. As if she had sensed something was wrong, Traska arrived leading Hogar and Nephentha behind her. There was surprisingly little tension as the decision seemed clear, and the sort of calm before a serious skirmish settled in the air around the group. After their quite mini conference, the older couple turned to the others.
"Then we gotta roll out right now. Ya, go tell ya troops to meet by the gate, and by tha Loa not a single one of them better talk ta anybody," Taiji instructed the four squadron leaders. They all grunted in affirmation and sped off, gleeful at the chance to get some revenge on the people responsible for delaying their city's economic growth. She turned to the cartel members and said out loud what Navarion had already pieced together. "A contingent of maybe fifty bandits is attackin' us preemptively. For sure, somebody talked, but we don't got time ta worry about that right now. I need ya all ta mount up and get goin' with tha others. Ya presence boosts their morale more than they wanna admit."
"Aye!" Vegnus agreed with gusto as he already started back toward their work camp. "Let's go, team Steamwheedle! This is it, just a day early!" His motivational skills weren't quite that of Yaromira, his counterpart, but the others kept the dwarf's unusually fast pace back to the camp.
They found that the cartel laborers had already gone to their work locations, leaving the two teenage goblin girls who functioned as camp caretakers sleeping again on a pair of hammocks in the shade. The mounts were either foraging or playing with Sharkasa and Taran, and Navarion flagged the two children down as his companions whistled for their mounts.
"Kids, I have an important mission for you," he bluffed, grabbing their attention right away.
"Yes mister Hearthglen!" they both chirped, always eager for work from the young man they looked up to.
He handed them some more copper coins and a napkin he had doodled on and folded into his pocket. It was silly, but they wouldn't know that - so trustworthy were they that he knew they wouldn't dare unfold it to see what it had written on it. "I need you two to take this message to Izzy. When you find her, stay with her until the evening and your parents come looking for you directly. Stay away from the city walls. Understand?"
"Yes sir!" they replied in unison again, saluting him as they took the money and the doodle of Izzy as a genie coming out of a bottle and ran.
The sound of Furball shaking off his dry coat caught Navarion's attention, and the moron's grin always plastered in the duskbat's face turned sideways at him. Hogar and Traska were already on their wolves and Nephentha soared overhead on her coatl. Jalinde was nowhere to be found.
"She went ahead without us," Traska explained as Navarion mounted Furball. "She'll meet the rest of the warband at a rendezvous point on the way ahead. Her hunting partner is leading the rest of us, they're probably read to march at the gates."
"Let's not waste time, then!" he replied while clicking his heels into Furball's sides.
The duskbat launched itself into the air, flying straight as it ascended and gained sufficient altitude. Navarion flew neck and neck with Nephentha, the two of them quickly overtaking the rest of the cartel companions and approaching the crude but sufficient formation of a good twenty five Raventusk axe throwers and headhunters. All of them rode on raptors, likely to save time. The trolls had great stamina, but their wide feet were made for bearing heavy loads, not sprinting; they were rather slow on the move, and the reptilian mounts greatly reduced the estimated time of arrival.
There were no words. The shadow hunter and the sea witch left their mounts to glide on the thermals overhead while the warband marched below. They could see the scout from earlier leading out in front as the path led them off the main road and into the forest proper. The terrain was rough but the raptors made great time, feeding off of the anger and excitement as the tribespeople sought to strike a killing blow against the bandits.
Minutes ticked by and the first hour passed as if it were nothing. The scout below never halted or slowed down, and she seemed to understand where she was leading everybody. Before he knew it, Navarion had spotted Jalinde hiding in a tree, and he signaled her location to the rest of the group below. They stopped beneath the redwood's branches, and he and Nephentha helped the ranger down and landed.
Once on the ground, the squad leaders dismounted to meet her, and she pushed her green hood back to listen for potential spies.
"They stopped to rest just ahead," she said in a low voice as the rest of the tribespeople dismounted as well. "They traveled farther than I had expected, which is probably why they need to rest. Their camp is set up and they're either on edge or sleeping, but they have flasks liquid fire in their tents. Getting past their initial barrage will be tough."
"Leave that to me," Nephentha offered as she stepped into the circle of commanders. "I can rip their camp apart with a small, localized storm; they'll panic, and the stragglers can be picked off more easily."
Jalinde looked to the Raventusk squad leaders briefly, focusing on the oldest one, a broad chested man who had a wide scar across his torso covered in war paint. It took him a moment to realize that he was the top ranking official on the mission, and he quickly agreed, not having any ideas of his own.
"How close do ya need ta get?" the man asked the sea witch.
"Close enough to see them, but I need to remain unseen - casting the spell takes more than a minute," Nephentha explained while readying her staff. "The storm will only be under my control so long as I can channel the spell uninterrupted."
"Can the rest of you hang back until the storm is finished dividing their ranks?" Jalinde asked the leader of the tribespeople.
The large man was caught off guard once more, looking rather sheepish for all his stature and battle scarring. "Very well...ya just give tha word ta pick off whoever tries ta escape. Until then, we're gonna hang back."
Two other squadron leaders returned to the now dismounted forest trolls to explain the plan to them while Jalinde spoke to the others.
"Traska, Hogar, try to stay in between us and them. We may need help keeping the locals at bay as well as getting their attention when it's time to strike."
"We're on it," the draenei answered as she and the Orc followed for a ways before kneeling behind a bush in the forest.
The tribespeople miraculously did as they were told, crouching low as they wielded their tomahawks and remained further back. Most of them actually tried to hide within the scenery and a few even led the raptors further away to watch the excitable creatures out of view of the area of battle, thus ensuring a stealthy assault.
Following Jalinde's lead, Navarion crawled on his belly next to her and Nephentha slithered. The trio reached a ledge overlooking the camp between the trees in a small gully below. Eyes trained ahead, Jalinde looked so serious, so focused that if Navarion tried hard enough, he could almost see his mother. His parents had retired from adventuring before he had even been born, but they still took him and his siblings into the Barrens occasionally, letting them get actual practice stalking and tracking the few quilboar and centaur clans who had refused to sign peace treaties with the major factions. In a way...
He shook his head. This was not a time to reminisce, not about the good times, not about the bad times. Jalinde was an ally and perhaps even a mentor and nothing more. Thankfully, she had remained so focused that she didn't notice the look on his face during his brief daydream, and he threw his less trained vision onto the movement he could spy in between the trees below.
"Quite a few of them appear to be napping," the high elf remarked in Thalassian without looking away from the camp. Her voice was low and it took Navarion a moment to adjust to the language - mutually intelligible with Darnassian and Nazja, but still different. "They're a good distance away from the city, so this is as good a location as any other. But they must have known we would see them...this doesn't make sense."
"Perhaps they're a diversion? To distract us from something else?" the half elf asked.
"That doesn't make sense. A diversion group is at risk of being wiped out, and this has to be close to half their people. They have provisions, arms, mounts, and there are dozens of people."
"Forty seven," Navarion said without even thinking, feeling the number of souls out via his voodoo.
Jalinde looked at him incredulously. She'd learned that he wasn't a ranger and had beginner level tracking skills, yet the number was so exact. Nephentha, having grown up with him, chimed in. "Voodoo is a combination of life and death magic. He can sense the number of souls, as well as any undead, soulless bodies."
"I don't suppose you could tell us how many are fighters and how many are just water carriers?" Jalinde asked with a bit of a laugh, already knowing the answer.
"I can just tell you that there are forty seven people but twenty two mounts, so many of them had to walk on foot. No undead, thankfully."
"All the same, we need you to take out as many as you can, Nepha," the high elf said while craning her neck sideways to address the naga. "For sure, some of them will escape, and of those that escape, Navarion and I can catch a few alive before the Raventusk scalp them."
"I'll need a distraction, however; my spell will create noise and light." Nephentha tapped the enchanted pearl at the top of her staff on the soil, and it hummed audibly solely from the contact. "Channeling the spell takes time and I'll be a sitting duck, plus we don't want them to know what's coming."
"Leave it to me," Jalinde whispered as she moved to the edge and began to lower herself down into the hedges below.
"I'll go with you-"
"No," she said firmly, slicing the air with her hand to emphasize her point. "Nepha needs someone here to back her up, and two of us might alert the bandits rather than merely creating a distraction. I'll go, create a minor diversion, and make a duck call when it's time to unleash the storm."
The three of them grinned at the last line. It was obvious that Jalinde hasn't even intended it to be a joke, but their spirits were uplifted nonetheless. Navarion watched her as she pulled her green hood over her blonde locks - an unfortunate hair color for a stealthy tracker, and he wondered why she didn't just dye it green - and then disappeared into the underbrush. Nephentha stood back up and hid herself among the temperate ferns, the green of her scales and the opalescent translucence of her head crest blending in to the greenery like camouflage. Navarion remained prone on his stomach; the light brown of his leather, silver of his chainmail, indigo of his Mohawk and violet-blue of his head and face were an unfortunate combination that rendered him rather useless when it came to sneak attacks.
After the calm that had enveloped the group before, a sort of tension finally settled in as his short companion remained hidden and the waiting period began. The raptors of the Raventusk were unheard off in the distance, and even the tribespeople themselves followed orders and stayed out. Aside from the chirps of birds and the occasional loud laugh from the bandits guarding the makeshift tent camp below, there was silence in the still forest air. The temperature was cool yet a bead of sweat dripped down the young man's forehead anyway in anticipation of what would come next.
More tense minutes ticked by without disturbance, and that disturbed him greatly. "Where is she?" he whispered to Nephentha.
Snakelike eyes met his before scanning the camp in the gully below, equally concerned. "Just give her time, she knows what she's doing-"
"Wait!"
They both fell silent as he nearly jumped, the hairs of his mane standing upright all the way down the back of his neck. Voices filled his ears the way his father had described to him when spirits spoke of what took place in the world of the living, and he honed the power on the source of the disturbance. He didn't know whether to call it a sixth sense or a more direct form of intervention like magic; according to his father, one wasn't meant to fully understand. But as he asked what he assumed to be Loa local to the area what was going on, he found a forty eighth soul in the gully below, hiding in a bush as five others boxed it in.
"They have her!" Navarion burst out a little too loudly, and he rose to his knees. "They located Jalinde, they're right on top of her position!"
Nephentha exited her hiding spot, remaining calm but obviously concerned. "If she's surrounded, then she won't be able to make the signal."
Rising just as she joined his side on the ledge, Navarion felt his mind race in a way unbefitting an adventurer. He was supposed to keep his cool better than this but for various reasons - or perhaps, more like one specific reason from his past - the thought of losing women he cared for stung him more than simply losing a mere comrade of any gender. He held his breath for a moment to calm his voice, but his mind still raced.
"Nepha, start channeling the spell!"
She hesitated, unsure of what to do and also a bit put off by his reaction. She wrung her wrist of her bottom pair of hands and fiddled with her staff with her top pair of hands. "Jalinde will be caught in the storm if I start now."
"She'll be caught by the bandits if we wait any longer!" He tried to swallow nothing as if it would calm his nerves, but in the end he had to settle for sheer power of will. "Nepha, there is no other way."
Eyeing him for another second, the young sea witch nodded and stepped back. All four of her arms were raised, one of them holding her staff, and she closed her eyes and held still. She looked almost statuesque, like some of the old naga relics he had once recovered with his guild when busting an antiques theft ring, and it had an inadvertent calming effect on him. Slowly, her arms began waving back and forth, barely noticeable at first. As every second passed, she swayed a bit more in the still air, and the glow in her staff's pearl remained faint.
The spirits spoke to him again, and Navarion could tell that the five skirmishers were creeping toward Jalinde's position once more. Just as quickly as the image came to him, it disappeared; Nephentha's arcane magic interfered with his voodoo, and the sympathetic vibrations he felt from the souls of the living melded in to the nature around them as his magic was blocked. He tried not to think about it, watching Nephentha instead as her pearl glowed even brighter and a sort of electric energy crackled between her open palms. Before he had even noticed, the wind had begun whipping through the trees despite the clear blue sky - clear except for a localized dark cloud forming just above the gully.