Fallen Children Book I: Legacy of Ruin

by Teano

Shortly after the events of the Cataclysm, the Night Elves of Kalimdor once again see their homeland threatened by ancient enemies and former allies alike. However, the Horde encroaching upon their lands too has old enemies of their own that have yet to re-emerge...

10. Red Horizon

The sun that scorched the quarterdeck was as unforgiving as Llorrin's conscience. He'd realized too late no one had kept Carekon up to speed on everything that had happened on deck while he was ill. When Llorrin had seen the chaplain's face as he witnessed the corpses strung up from Jeredan's ship's mast, he'd made it his task to tell Carekon everything about the mutiny personally… everything except how he'd failed to stand up to Jeredan and had denied Carekon the crusader's help as a result. That his negligence hadn't killed Carekon in the end did little to make Llorrin feel better. Carekon had taken in the news in silence without judging his actions, but Llorrin felt the subject and his lies drifting in between them like mist.

He had ordered the corpses to be taken down shortly after Carekon's return, not simply because of the chaplain's disapproval, but also because he felt the men's morale had increased thanks to the chaplain's survival. He hoped that from now on he'd no longer have to rely on scare tactics. What was left of the mutineers had been given a proper sea burial, with the chaplain praising their past service in the Kul Tiras fleet and forgiving them for their misgivings. Carekon quite cleverly wrote off the conflict as a tragic misunderstanding that was the result of both sides' commitment and loyalty to the cause, and asked the rest of the men to look to the future and save their anger for the actual enemy.

Jeredan of course had his own views on why things had gone so sour.

"The boys haven't had a proper enemy to fight in years. You'd want to start killing for less" he'd told Llorrin, one hand on his two-hander. Llorrin had a hunch Jeredan hadn't forgotten about how their duel had been cut short by Elduin yet.

Llorrin was hoping everyone could put the past behind them now, so that he'd no longer have to fear a mutiny every second of every day. Carekon was a figure of authority that was easy for the men to accept, and his mere presence seemed to create a feeling of unity on board. The shared hope for his survival was one of the few things all members of the crew had kept in common during the weeks of animosity. Llorrin had figured even the meanest sailor in the crew respected Carekon enough not to want to risk having to kill him in a mutiny, so he considered his survival a blessing. Llorrin slept better in the weeks that followed, and when he walked on board he at least didn't feel like he was entering a warzone anymore.

And to think I didn't even stick my neck out for you Llorrin thought, shaking his head. He was looking over the sea from the ship's bow, hoping they'd reach Tiragarde Keep soon. Irewyth did what she could to speed up her journey, but she was nowhere as effective as Elduin had been, which made Llorrin suspect she wasn't giving it her all. He suspected she didn't want to allow herself be caught off guard again, but Llorrin didn't have much patience for that, not now that peace had been restored.

"I'm disappointed in you Irewyth, between Elduin and yourself, I always thought you were the better mage" he had taunted her, but she had only smirked. Llorrin had found Irewyth had an irritating talent for being able to ignore what you said and focus only on what she knew you wanted.

"Elduin was locked in a cage with no one but you to amuse him, what did you expect? A man would drive himself to the edge for less."

"But you're not a man" Llorrin had remarked.

"Yes, it wouldn't be very noble of you to force a lady who's only just recovered from a terrible injury to exhaust herself, now would it?" Irewyth had said in her sweetest voice.

"Maybe I should consider locking you up, as well…" Llorrin had muttered, but Irewyth had merely laughed and walked away.

Llorrin wondered if captain Adane could have faced similar troubles. He certainly didn't think it impossible. It seemed to him they'd been at sea for so long and so much had happened in the meantime, he'd almost lost sight of his actual goal at times.

Tiragarde… I'll be glad when I finally reach you he thought. He didn't even consider the possibility Elduin might have been lying anymore.

An unusual amount of ruckus behind him shook Llorrin out of his daydreams. He turned around and subconsciously reached for the pistol inside his vest, surprised he was still so wary of a sudden fight breaking out on board. He caught Flynt running towards him, but the man was unarmed and while the crew was excited and looking up from their tasks, none of them were fighting. Llorrin's hand slipped off the pistol.

"Cap'n! Unknown ships! Port side!" Flynt shouted, stopping in front of him and pointing to the west, to Kalimdor.

His heartbeat rose as he looked west, following Flynt's outstretched arm with his eyes to discover two tiny specks on the horizon. The first thing he noticed were the red sails. Red sails could mean many things, but the sigil of the jagged outline of an orc's jaw, complete with comparatively small specks that indicated angry eyes and a nose, could only belong to the Warsong clan, one of the most brutal and feared orc clans. For all he knew Grom Hellscream, the mighty Warsong chieftain himself, could be on board of one of the vessels. The orcs had stolen several human ships when they had first set sail for Kalimdor, but these were different ships. He was certain his companions couldn't see, but Llorrin could distinguish orc warriors on board, waving axes and baring teeth.

The brutes look like they've been whipped into a frenzy Llorrin thought. He wondered how long they must've been at sea without enemies to fight. It surprised him the savages hadn't begun to tear each other apart yet.

"Damnit, those are orcs alright" Llorrin cursed under his breath as the ships came closer at frightening speed. Surely the Warsong orcs would recognize the banner of Kul Tiras as well. All his life he'd been willing to face the orcs, and now that the opportunity was finally there, it came at the worst possible time. The orcs weren't supposed to know they were even alive.

Carekon came hurrying towards him.

"Those are ogre juggernauts" the chaplain warned him. "They have more firepower and warriors than we do."

"I know," Llorrin said. The Horde's juggernauts had sent a lot of Kul Tiras' fleet to the bottom of the ocean during the Second War. Monstrous warships of epic proportions, they had been originally designed by the ogres when they had first joined the Horde. The human forces had doubted the primitive ogre's ability to build proper warships for the Horde, and they had paid the price for underestimating the ogres in blood. Every man who held Kul Tiras dear still carried a grudge for that, whether he'd lived through those times or not, for the island nation had never truly recovered from the blow. "Prepare for battle."

The words had left his mouth before he'd truly considered them.

"Prepare for battle!" he shouted at his crew, as if to take away his own doubts. Nevertheless, an eager cheer went up from the men. It was soon followed by another cheer that came from Jeredan's ship.

"But captain-" Flynt started, but Llorrin was already moving back to the quarterdeck to oversee his crew. Flynt tried to follow but got blocked off by a couple of men that was making haste to clear the deck of a few barrels that stood on the deck to catch rain water but would certainly get in the way in a fight. Carekon did manage to keep up.

"Llorrin, please consider what you are doing. Sometimes it is better to stay away from a fight and fight another day. I know how you feel about the orcs, but now is not the time for rash decisions" he said.

Llorrin sighed, doing his best to keep his voice down.

"Look, we can't take the risk that they recognized our sails. Even if we could outrun them, they would bring word back to the mainland that more Kul Tiras ships are still at large, and then the sea will soon be swarming with orcs" he said.

Flynt now caught up to them, pushing through a couple of riflemen that was getting into position.

"Captain, the odds are against us, and if we lose, they'll capture us and make us reveal everything!"

Llorrin stopped and grabbed Flynt by the shoulder.

"None of us will surrender. If the battle turns sour, you have my permission to bite off your tongue" he said. Flynt's jaw slacked.

"Find Irewyth and send her to me. I have a plan" Llorrin continued. Now was not the time to stand frozen. "Carekon, I'll need you to stay here to heal and shield my men from anythign the orcs throw at us."

Flynt left without a word, and Carekon nodded, seemingly reluctantly, but nevertheless took position alongside the jeering riflemen that had passed them by earlier.

Content with the way he had rid himself of Flynt and Carekon's complaints, Llorrin hurried on towards the quarterdeck, hoping Flynt would find Irewyth quickly. It was still early, and Irewyth had a habit of sleeping all the way through the day. Whereas Llorrin relished in finally getting a chance to fight the brutes, he didn't think this was the ideal time. They had lost men to the Naga already, and they were supposed to keep their presence hidden from the orcs.

"Jeredan!" he called to the other ship, which was within earshot. "Are your men ready?

"What does it look like?" Jeredan shouted back, brandishing his two-hander. Llorrin thought Jeredan had sometimes looked rather ferocious before, but none of those times compared to what he looked like now.

"Keep your ship alongside mine! We're going to take them head on!" Llorrin called.

"That's what I thought!" Jeredan bellowed before tending to his crew.

"Turn around! At them! We have to sink them or they'll alert their friends on the mainland!" Llorrin ordered. A cheer went up from the men, and the frigates were turned with amazing speed, heading straight for the destroyer. Surprisingly, the orcish vessels started turning, heading back west.

"What are they doing? I thought they'd come to fight!" one of the sailors called, disappointed.

Llorrin squinted. He could see the orcs on board the closest juggernaught, gesturing angrily at who he assumed to be their captain. The nature of the conversation was easy to guess. The protest stopped when the captain beat one of the displeased grunts on the head. Seems I have something in common with an orc, Llorrin mused, feeling somewhat disgusted by the notion.

"It seems like they don't want to take any risks… They're trying to get away from us so they can alert their allies. Pursue them! I want them caught before they can even get in sight of the shore!" Llorrin bellowed, and his men were more than happy to oblige. Some of them might have felt as cold as he did as the wind started rising, blowing them towards his enemies, but like Llorrin, no one showed any signs of fears.

Everyone was baffled when their frigates, supposed to be the fastest in the fleet, didn't gain on the juggernaughts. They had to think of something else.

"Irewyth!" Llorrin greeted her. "Can't you make us go faster?"

Irewyth had a malicious twinkle in her eye. For once, Llorrin was happy to see it.

"I have a far better idea, Llorrin. Tell your men to slow down" she said.

The eerie blue glow in her eyes he remembered from when they had fought the Silithids appeared, and Llorrin's skin started tingling. He had an idea of what she was about to do, so he complied, shouting out his orders.

"Cease the pursuit!" he shouted, which led to a lot of vocal protests from the crew, who nevertheless obliged when Irewyth cast her icy eyes upon them.

I better hope you've thought this through, Irewyth, Llorrin thought as he watched the Warsong ships grow smaller. Whatever you're planning, we'll never be able to catch them if it fails.

His thoughts were interrupted as Irewyth's voice suddenly thundered over the sound of the wind, the waves and the anxious crewmen alike. In the distance, he saw the clouds above the orcish ships break and begin to twist into a vortex. They glowed a foreboding, unnatural blue colour. The cold literally radiated off of it. Sharp chunks of ice as big as a man's head began to rain down on the Warsong ship, tearing through the fabric of the sails and crashing into the deck. Though part of him was terrified at such a display of power, Llorrin smirked, imagining the orcs' screams over the sound of the raging storm.

He squinted and thought he saw minuscule figures being flung overboard. This wasn't the end though, as suddenly the juggernaughts started swaying and slowly spinning around. He realized it was being sucked into a vortex. The force of Irewyth's spell was so great that Llorrin caught ripples on the surface of the sea reaching all the way to his ship. The crew watched in silence, awed by the magnificent display of power. No one even spoke a word as the first juggernaught's bow crashed into the second's side, splintering both ships. They watched until the last piece of mast had disappeared into the vortex, and the clouds had returned to normal, as if nothing had happened. The crew seemed frozen, as if they were locked in a dream. Everyone was so astonished that they didn't even see that Irewyth had collapsed.

The first to notice the hydromancess' fall was Eryck, an eager marine who's place was at the wheel of the ship during battle, or whenever Llorrin and Flynt were needed elsewhere. While Eryck lacked the leadership qualities and experience required to truly become his first mate, he had a reputation for being fearless almost to the point of stupidity, and Llorrin trusted him to steer the ship in battle more than Flynt, who didn't have much of a stomach for battle. Llorrin knew this was actually supposed to be his own responsibility as a captain, but since he was almost entirely new to directing a ship in battle he preferred to leave it to someone who had at least a bit of experience. If it did come to a fight, he preferred to be in the thick of it himself, and he also wanted an experienced officer commanding the men at the cannons.

"Sir!" Eryck warned him, pointing down at Irewyth's fallen form.

Llorrin turned sharply and held back a curse upon seeing her, crashed against the deck as she was. It made him suddenly see her earlier comment about exhausting her in an entirely different light. He walked over and knelt down next to Irewyth, putting two fingers against the side of her neck, and was relieved to feel her heartbeat. He hadn't really expected her to die this easily, but the way things had been going lately, there wasn't much that would still surprise him. Muttering under his breath, he slid his hands under her back and thighs and picked Irewyth up. She was heavier than he'd expected, or maybe he was simply weaker.

"Keep following this course," Llorrin told Eryck.

"Sir?" Eryck, who didn't really appear to see the use in checking out some wreckage, asked.

"We haven't had word from the mainland in ages. We're going to see whether there's any survivors. If there are, they might have some useful information."

"Sir."

Llorrin started carrying Irewyth back to her bed personally. He didn't want to trust her to anyone. As he passed through the ranks of his men he noticed Wheann, who still had his daggers drawn. The half-elf did little to hide his contempt as Llorrin passed him by. He clearly didn't share in the joy the rest of the crew felt over seeing two ogre juggernaughts shattered before their eyes.

Putting Wheann out of his mind, Llorrin walked on and soon tucked Irewyth in. He ordered Bors to guard her and sent another marine to go fetch Carekon to check on her. When he returned to the deck they were very near to the rubble. Shattered wood, dead and dying orcs, sails and parts of the juggernaughts' masts drifted on the surface of the water. Llorrin was surprised to see how many orcs were still fighting for their lives, holding on to whatever flotsam they could cling onto or swimming to try and reach a safe spot.

"Looks like what they say about orcs is true. They don't kill easily," Eryck, who had apparently switched positions with Flynt at the wheel again now that the threat of an impending battle had gone, said. He'd replaced Jeredan as his bodyguard, but Llorrin wasn't sure whether that had been a very good choice on his part, because Eryck had the uncanny habit of disappearing and reappearing at his side without him noticing.

"Neither do we," Llorrin reminded him. One thing he had in common with Eryck was that he was too young to have ever fought the Horde, unlike many other members of the crew.

As the frigate sailed along the wreckage the orcs stared at the crewmen with hateful eyes. The mere sight of them made his blood boil. Llorrin looked the warriors over one by one, trying to find one that looked like he was of higher rank. He saw an orc clad in thick black armour, with bronze brazers strapped to his forearms. As far as Llorrin could tell he was bigger and older than the others and had accumulated more tattoos on his arms and face than any of the other warriors. His face and arms were covered in scars.

"That one," Llorrin said, pointing out the important-looking orc. "Take him aboard."

The orc wasn't about to let himself get caught so easily. He threw bits of flotsam and other debris at their heads and swum away whenever the ship got near to him, forcing Llorrin to sail right into the debris. Orcs willingly made way for their leader as he tried to stay ahead of the ship, sometimes drowning in the process. A hollow thunk went through the ship every time the hull made contact with an orc's head. It was all for naught, however, because he was finally caught in a net that was otherwise used for fishing and pulled aboard with great effort. Llorrin was relieved to see he must have lost all of his weapons in the storm.

More wasted time, he thought as the orc struggled to break free from the net, cursing and growling and hurling obscenities and threats alike at his captors. From the water, other orcs shouted encouragements, and some even tried to reach the ship. Flynt sailed right over them, without compassion. They could have taken more prisoners, but after the grueling effort catching the captain had been, Llorrin really didn't want to waste any more time. He walked up to the orc, who still managed to look defiant even with half a dozen muskets pointed at him.

"Are you the leader of this sad company of scallywags, whelp? You Kul Tiras dogs must truly be getting desperate, to have children fight your battles" the orc sneered in a voice that was not only powerful, but also surprisingly articulate, before Llorrin could say anything.

The insult stung, but it wasn't entirely unexpected, and Llorrin had the feeling it wouldn't be the last time he'd be faced with such a remark, either. Nevertheless, he gave a slight nod in Eryck's general direction. Eryck didn't hesitate to kick the orc in the teeth, but it only seemed to make him angrier. He spat on the deck and showed his bloodstained teeth in a soundless growl. One of his fangs was long broken, but the other was still sharp.

"Oh, you're the type who lets others do the dirty work, are you? What a surprise," the captive taunted.

"I don't hit unarmed prisoners," Llorrin proclaimed. Two could play this game. He didn't need to come up with proper justifications to the orcs' accusations.

That seemed to amuse him.

"Oh, it's above you then, is that it? How about you free me from this net, whelp, so I can see how well you fare against an armed opponent? Or do you have a problem with that as well?"

"It still wouldn't be fair. You're exhausted from keeping your ass above the sea level, not to mention old," Llorrin said, trying to appear calmer and more smug than he really felt.

"Where is that bastard who sunk my ships, I have a few things to say to him, as well" the orc demanded, once again struggling against the confines of the net.

"That bastard is a she. I'll have you know your ship was sunk by a girl half your size," Llorrin answered him. Though he could've used Irewyth's wit in this conversation, he was glad she wasn't here. He wasn't sure he'd be able to contain himself if the orcs' insults were aimed at her instead.

He sees the hatred in my eyes, and he's trying to exploit it. He's trying to get me to kill him, Llorrin thought. His men remained silent. This was a test, to show he wouldn't let his inexperience get the best of him.

"My name is Gronbag, and that's all you'll get out of me, filthy human" the orc growled.

"That," Llorrin said, immediately thinking of Jeredan, "remains to be seen. Take him to the brigg. I might just have a couple of questions for you," Llorrin promised him. His insides were turning however. The presence of these ships suggested the orcish forces on the mainland were still strong, and at any rate it meant Admiral Daelin hadn't sunk them yet.

On the other hand, he didn't seem overly surprised to see us, so there might still be more of our ships around... Llorrin thought.

He'd never really believed the orc shaman and Elduin had both been lying about Admiral Proudmoore, but now that he was so close to having every last bit of uncertainty erased he felt he was once again surprisingly reluctant to accept what he already believed to be true. He'd have to make sure to speak to the orc in private, and not let anything he told him out to the rest of the crew. Llorrin was smart enough to know the hope of seeing their old friends and admiral again was what kept up the morale of most of his men. What was more was that if Daelin and his forces had truly fallen, they'd be hopelessly outnumbered against the Horde.

Jaina, we'll have to convince Jaina to help us, Llorrin thought, making a mental note to squeeze any information he could get on her out of Gronbag. Without her aid, they lacked the manpower, and their cause would be lost. He remembered he'd been over this with Adane and Elduin before, on the eve of his departure, and both of them had shouted 'no!'. Elduin had revealed the strangest things about Jaina, about her pacifist attitude towards the orcs, about how her men had stopped fighting the orcs once Daelin had fallen, and Captain Adane had been worried she'd steal part of the fleet they still had away.

Still, they have to realize that without her aid, our cause is lost Llorrin thought. He felt if they sailed back to Kul Tiras to pledge their loyalty to Tandred, they would never be allowed to leave again. Surely Captain Adane had to realize this as well. 'I will think of something else' the captain had promised him, but could he really trust him?

Of course you should trust him, you should follow his orders, a voice inside of him berated him, but he still had his doubts. If he could only speak to Jaina, maybe he could sway her... As long as he could avoid revealing the existence of the rest of the fleet, it would do no harm. Captain Adane probably wouldn't approve, but if he was successful in gaining Jaina's support, his captain would surely be grateful for it. On the other hand, it was possible Adane already had a plan that he simply hadn't told him about yet. Surely sailing all the way back to Kul Tiras for the slim chance Tandred would support their crusade against the orcs wasn't the best Adane could have come up with. Perhaps he should just stop worrying so much and trust his captain, follow his lead... All the doubt was making Llorrin's head spin.

He'd taken his eyes off the orc for the briefest of moments, which was enough. Gronbag shot forward, pulling the net with him as he extended his arm. Before Llorrin could move the orc's fist closed around his ankle like a vice, with so much force he feared it would snap. He lost his balance as the orc pulled, crashing into the deck, but then the marines reacted, cursing and swarming in on the orc. They beat him senseless with their muskets and kicked him until he stopped resisting them and only covered his head and eyes from taking more hits. Llorrin rubbed his ankle, feeling the painful skin beneath his fingertips. Just a little longer, and it would've been broken, he realized with awe. Llorrin scowled as he got up and dusted himself off, but he didn't let rage overtake him. The orc would be worth more to them alive.

"Lock him up and see to his wounds," he said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "I want him alive."

Half a dozen marines, including Eryck, went with Gronbag to carry him off and deliver him to his cell safely. Llorrin watched until he was out of sight before he moved to return to his cabin, suddenly feeling just how much his ankle really hurt.

"We sail on to Tiragarde. We'll have to stay further away from the shore from now on, because I don't want to run into anymore ships. Irewyth won't be able to save us every time" he announced to no one in particular.

"Captain, what about the others?" a sailor asked.

"Others? Oh, yeah," Llorrin muttered, looking at the water, where many orcs were still fighting for their lives. The wind had begun to pick up again, and the waves were growing larger and larger. They didn't have that many reliable cells on board, and they were already running short on food and water, so a bunch of useless mouths on board was the last thing he needed right now. He had a feeling Gronbag alone would cause enough trouble by himself. If they met another Horde juggernaught in battle, the orcs could become a liability, because he wouldn't put it past them to be able to escape during the chaos of a fight. Llorrin looked over the deck, where two rows of musketeers awaited his orders. One word, and they'd fire a volley that would put an end to the stragglers and send their corpses sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He thought of the Naga, who some men said could smell blood through water even from miles away, but he also thought of his parents, faceless entities he'd never come to know because of orcs just like the ones drowning but a few feet away from his ship.

"Let them drown," he finally said. "They're not even worth the bullets."

Llorrin frowned as he put the ice against his bruised ankle. He'd called for Bors to get him some ice from the hold. Those ships that had a hydromancer on board to make it for them tended to keep some ice on board to quell bruises or conserve food. If they encountered another ship, it could even serve as a valuable trade resource. The ice was put in barrels that was filled with sawdust so it could keep its shape and kept in the darkest and coolest place in the ship. The barrels were enclosed in a way to prevent warm air from reaching it, but even that didn't stop a lot of it from melting after a while. As soon as the adrenaline had faded he'd felt just how badly the orc's fingers had pressed into his skin. He'd thought the warlock had been pretty strong for his age, but this orc had cast a whole new light on that observation.

It would've been child's play for Irewyth to create some more ice for the crew, but he felt that was the last thing he could ask of her right now. He'd ordered Carekon to stay at Irewyth's side constantly while she regained her strength, just to be on the safe side. If she ever got out of bed and heard Llorrin had been so worried about her he knew she would be sure to pester him about it. It was something he was willing to endure though. He'd even decided he wasn't going to let Carekon waste even an ounce of his mana on healing his ankle. He had to remember the chaplain had probably also not fully regained his strength yet, because he didn't want to repeat the mistake he'd made with Irewyth.

Captain Adane always carried his wounds in plain sight and rarely called for a healer, perhaps I should take it as an example, Llorrin thought, remembering the purple bruise Adane had carried on his head back in that dreaded desert.

Bors had advised him to wrap the ice in a piece of cloth and had mumbled something about ice being able to burn as badly as fire if it came in direct contact with your skin for too long, but that didn't seem to make any sense to Llorrin, so he hadn't bothered. He'd pulled his trousers up to his knee and had put his foot in a bucket, which was being filled drop by drop by the quickly melting ice, but at least kept the floor of his captain's cabin dry. Freshwater was too valuable to waste. The palm of his hand and his fingers tingled from the cold, but he held the cube tight, fixing his grip around it carefully to keep it from slipping out of his trembling hand.

The cold of the icecube made him aware of just how hot the rest of his reddened skin had become, and for a moment he contemplated rubbing cold ice all over his body. His breathing came slowly and every thought about confronting the orc captain again sent his heartbeat into overdrive. His firsttrue confrontation with the Horde could have gone much worse, but it had been… different from how he had imagined it.

He'd caught glimpses of mangled orc corpses drifting in the water. Their limbs had been shattered, their faces caved in or swollen, their bodies pierced by large chunks of wood. It was one thing to kill an opponent in a fight, but Llorrin had rarely witnessed destruction on this scale. Training, skill, armour, it all mattered little against such power. War devoured everything, and no one, not even the greatest mage or warrior, was safe. It had reminded him of just how little he held his fate in his own hands. What if the next ogre juggernaught they encountered had a warlock on board? Would they end up like the orcs he'd just condemned to drown? After the images of the bloodied orcs had passed through his mind worse ones of the one time he'd sailed with captain Adane to give battle to the undead followed. He wanted to block them out, but nevertheless suffered a drawback to that day, a day he still dreamt about, the day the undead doom barges had cut through the Kul Tiras fleet that had sailed out in an attempt to save Lordaeron from the Scourge.

The sea had been turned into a chaos of splintering wood, men and body parts that were being hurled through the air. The screaming had drowned out all other sounds and the mist the foul magic of the undead had turned into as their magical volleys cut through hull, armour and flesh alike had coated the sea in a deathly pale light. My first battle, he thought with a sad smirk. If captain Adane hadn't had the sense to turn his ship away from that chaos, they would've ended up on the bottom of the sea like so many others. It still felt strange to Llorrin that captain Adane has disobeyed his orders to engage the undead fleet. Then again admiral Proudmoore, who had decided against any further action against the Scourge, hadn't held it against him even once. The undead ships had pursued them, and a few times they had come so close he had seen the hollow eyes of the undead warriors on board the doom barges. Back then he had wished his eyesight hadn't been so good, because as much as he tried, he hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from their rotting, undead faces. Some of the undead warriors had been dressed in the armour of the men they had sailed out to save, a few had been fresh reanimated corpses, still coated in the dark green tunics of the Kul Tiras navy. Sometimes, Llorrin dreamed he saw himself standing among those corpses with lifeless eyes, and blood running down his nose and mouth.

He could only imagine what chaos would follow when they met an army of orcs, or an entire fleet, because that was where this course was inevitably taking him. He told himself it could never become as bad as that slaughter had been. Orcs were many things, but they were at least not as… unnatural as the undead. What had astounded him the most was the drowning orcs' willingness to aid each other and even sacrifice themselves to protect their captain. He'd expected them to be more... egoistic. He hadn't told the men, but there'd been more than one reason he'd wanted to distance himself from the drowning orcs quickly.

Such strength… he thought as he adjusted the shrinking ice cube, noticing how his ankle was turning all sorts of colours.

All of a sudden someone entered unannounced. He looked up, expecting Eryck, but by the size of the men and his black armour he could tell it was Jeredan before the man had even fully passed the door. Llorrin picked his foot out of the bucket, dropped the ice and pulled his leg up to his chair, softly drying it with a towel. His skin felt oddly prickly and sensitive. He'd quit mending the bruise because he knew Jeredan was going to say something about it, but when the crusader grinned Llorrin knew he was going to make a comment on it anyway.

"Oh, did you strain your poor ankle, princess?" he chuckled.

"Why are you here?" Llorrin asked in a weary voice that showed how little he appreciated Jeredan's jape. This was one of the times where he really could've really used Eryck guarding his door to at least slow down and announce Jeredan, but sadly he didn't know where the guy was half of the time.

"Prisoners," Jeredan said with a hungry glint in his eye that unsettled Llorrin.

"What?"

"You're turning away our ships from those wrecks already, but I'm saying we should go back and pick up a few of those orcs. Times at sea can get very dull, and they won't get the opportunity to eat much of our supplies, I can promise you that," Jeredan said with a morbid delight. No matter how well you thought you knew him, only once the sight of an orc had set his blood aboil you could truly see how dangerous and deranged he was. Llorrin didn't need to ask what Jeredan wanted with the orcs. How he had enjoyed torturing the traitor who had attacked Irewyth already told him enough.

"No," Llorrin said bluntly, knowing he was treading on slim ice. He could simply feel the anger radiating off of Jeredan's body. He wouldn't put it past Jeredan to assault him again, and Llorrin had already laid off his weapons. One glance told him they were both out of reach. Another thing I need to learn. Someone could've just bursted in here and killed me.

"We're not going back, but you could accompany me. I could use your help to intimidate that orc captain a little," he added.

To Llorrin's own surprise that seemed to please Jeredan enough to make him forget about the other orcs, even though he was pretty sure they both had an entirely different interpretation of the word 'intimidate.' No doubt he could persuade Jeredan to keep his mouth shut to the crew about whatever the orc was going to reveal, after all, Jeredan was as invested in getting back to the mainland and fighting the Horde as he was.

And if he tries to blackmail me again, I'll slit his goddamn throat, Llorrin thought as he got up and tucked the knife he'd taken from Jeredan earlier into his pocket. He made a quick, hasty copy of the detailed map Elduin had drawn, only including the most basic outlines.

Let Gronbag think we're clueless fools with no notion of anything that's happened since we sailed out, Llorrin thought, aware he could use this to his advantage. It was easy to make people believe things they wanted to believe, that was something he'd learned from dealing with Irewyth.

"Let's go," he told Jeredan, who followed so eagerly he forgot to close the door behind him.

Belowdecks, the men were celebrating their victory. They were singing the praises of Irewyth and even Llorrin. Llorrin saw Bors, whose belly pushed the table he sat at up at least an inch. The provisions master himself was putting their remaining beer supplies to a serious test. Flynt was one of the few members of the crew who still looked sober, though he seemed to be in need of a drink more than anyone. He'd barely touched his pint, and still looked kind of shaky.

Eryck, who had put an orcish helmet he must have fished out of the water on his head, stumbled up in front of them, a bottle of rum in his hand.

My vigilant guardsman, Llorrin thought, smirking.

"Sir," he blurted out. "We need to celebrate t- this victory… properly. Tomorrow, the men want to p… parade that orc over the deck."

Llorrin frowned. "Why?"

"Just, you know. To make a fool of him. We could-" Eryck said, waving the bottle.

"No," Llorrin interrupted, even though he didn't really know why.

Eryck blinked, clearly surprised.

"Why not? It's good for morale," he tried.

"I'm not like them," Llorrin said, pushing him out of the way gently so he wouldn't fall over. Humiliation was a form of torture, and torturing captives seemed more like something orcs would do. Jeredan gave Eryck a look that would have frozen a sober man in place as he passed him by, but Eryck merely smiled.

I fear the next guy to slow us down is going to lose a couple of teeth, Llorrin thought, glancing at Jeredan.

Luckily, they suffered no more delays on their way down to the brigg. His heartbeat increased steadily as he got closer and closer to the cell. To his surprise, Llorrin found Wheann guarding Gronbag's cell. That the half-elf was here meant he must've volunteered to take a guards' place, which was very unlike him. The half-elf was crouched down in front of the jail. His head hung low, and his expression made it seem like he was the one behind bars. He barely noticed their approach, and got up only slowly once they reached him. The look he gave Llorrin was full of contempt. A while back they'd been drinking together by the fire. Llorrin had suddenly had to go see captain Adane and had been so drunk he'd nearly drowned that poor guy who'd rowed him to the Orcduster, something they had both laughed about later. Laughing seemed to be the last thing on Wheann's mind now, though. Llorrin had more than just a hunch what it was that was bothering the half-elf, but he still tried to play it off with a joke.

"He really makes for bad company, huh?" he said, smirking briefly at the orc, who grinned as if he took it as a compliment. Gronbag's wounds had been taken good care of, and by Llorrin's orders they'd even brought Gronbag some ale. To dull the pain and praise his courage, he'd been told, but the real reason was Llorrin wanted him to be more talkative. Unlike Gronbag, Wheann didn't grin. His eyes were cold and distant.

"I know, Llorrin, about you and Irewyth. She was mine, how could you do that?" he said, his voice little more than a hiss.

Llorrin was momentarily speechless. Wheann hadn't spoken to him in so long, so he'd already figured he must have found out, but he hadn't been expecting to have this conversation, not now, not in front of the orc. Gronbag's grin continued to grow.

"She chose to," he blurted out, unable to come up with anything better.

Wheann's lip quivered before he answered.

"She doesn't love you. She used me, and she used you as well. Once she's done with you, she'll drop you like she does everyone else."

"She used you both. Get over it," Jeredan sighed, crossing his arms.

"She didn't use-" Llorrin started, but Jeredan laughed dismissively.

"She played the entire crew. Remember when we were caught in the mist, and our ships got separated? That mist was her doing. She caused the ships to drift off."

"You're lying. I would've noticed something like that, and so would Llorrin" Wheann said, narowing his eyes.

Jeredan shook his head.

"Nu-uh. Separating herself was her way of making sure she could deal with the mutiny the way she wanted to without interference. That girl doesn't take insults lightly, and she never liked that damn dwarf. Oh, she also sent her water elementals below this ship to push it back towards her own once she was done hanging the traitors. She wanted Llorrin to get the credit for bringing the ships back together and make Chuth look bad for letting his ship drift off. Remember the rain? Also her doing. Chuth was an experienced sailor, he would have lighted torches to keep track of each other's positions before the distance between the ships became too large, but there was no way he could do that with the rain. So you see, she fooled everyone on this ship. Well, everyone except me. Now, can we get on with our interrogation?" Jeredan explained, sounding almost bored, like they were fools not to have figured this out by themselves.

Llorrin was astonished by this revelation. He was reluctant to believe Jeredan, but the plot seemed far too intricate for him to have come up with himself, not to mention he had very little to win by lying to him about this. What was worse than the actual reveal was how smug Jeredan was about it however, and what his knowledge of Irewyth's plotting implied…

"How do you know all this?" he asked him, but he had a feeling he already knew.

"We had similar interests," Jeredan said with a slight nod. "That girl is sick of being stuck on a boat with nothing to kill, and so am I. She thinks she's destined for greatness, you know. She wants to see her name put in every history book. I'm a bit more modest than that, but I'd still enjoy cracking some orcish skulls before I go down. She was smart enough to see I felt nothing for letting some damn mutineers who wanted to continue this damn exploration take over. She approached me, revealed her plans and asked me to make sure you stayed alive while she was gone. After all, she couldn't know if the mutineers were going to try and make use of the opportunity to take over your ship."

Llorrin remembered how Jeredan had guarded him while they were stuck in the mist, how it had already seemed back then like he knew something more.

Wheann seemed frozen, and Jeredan appeared to take delight in seeing his shock. "You… You…" the half-elf stammered.

"I wonder what Irewyth is going to do to you once she finds out you revealed her little secret," Llorrin said darkly. Somehow the idea of seeing Jeredan in pain suddenly felt really appealing.

Jeredan shrugged. "She promised to put in a good word with you in for me after she'd killed Chuth. She said she had you in her grasp and could easily convince you to make me captain if I helped her, but then of course, she got stabbed and I had to take matters into my own hands, which means I don't owe her anything. Besides, it's not like you would let this slip out, and there's not a whole lot she can do right now either," Jeredan said casually.

His confidence was aggravating. Llorrin contemplated punching him again, but then realized it was Wheann he should be concerned about. Despite the fact he had little to no sympathy for the half-elf's anger, he still found it very unfortunate to have lost a friend.

"Listen, I can tell every day on this ship is eating you up alive. You joined the fleet voluntarily so if you want, you can always leave again once we reach the mainland. There'll be a whole new continent for you to explore. No more small islands or boring coastlines. That's got to be worth something, right? I won't stop you from leaving," Llorrin said before he realized Irewyth was probably the only reason Wheann hadn't departed from the expeditionary fleet already.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Wheann said, a hardness to his eyes he hadn't witnessed before. Llorrin answered that look with a hardness he didn't know he possessed. Friend or not, Wheann was crossing the line.

"You're the one with the problem, you brought it up, and we both know it's not going to get settled overnight. As long as you're on this ship, you're going to answer to me and follow my orders. If you can't stand that, and it seems to be the case, I'd advise you to leave" he said, his own voice suddenly reminding him of captain Adane's.

"I wish I could leave already," Wheann said bitterly, looking past him.

"You can," Llorrin said, aware they were wasting time, and he already regretted having this conversation in front of Gronbag.

"You know what we orcs do when we're fighting over a woman? We fight, we don't throw pretty words at each other," the orc chimed in, oblivious to Jeredan's murderous glare.

"I wouldn't jeer too much about it," Llorrin said, turning towards the cage and taking a step towards it as Wheann hurried to leave. "It just put me in a bad mood."

Gronbag raised his hands defensively, but he simultaneously showed a toothy grin.

"Oh, should I be afraid now? Are you going to ask your big friend to beat me up this time?" he sniggered.

"He's not my friend," Llorrin said, shooting Jeredan a glare.

"I'm the best friend you have, you fool," Jeredan protested, oddly serious. "Good friends tell hard truths."

Llorrin's eyes lingered on Jeredan briefly. He already regretted bringing the warrior, and didn't feel like suffering through any more of his antics. Llorrin knew Jeredan well enough by now to tell the warrior was enjoying this much more than he was showing, and he couldn't stand it a moment longer.

"I thought you wanted to interrogate this orc," Llorrin said empathically.

Jeredan shrugged.

"I had to say something. You girls would've been moaning at each other for hours if I hadn't. Besides, we have more than enough time to spend with our prisoner," Jeredan said with an unsavory grin, cracking his knuckles loudly.

"My prisoner," Llorrin corrected him, but Jeredan, fixed on Gronbag as he was, didn't seem to care much about that comment.

"Our prisoner," he tried.

"Mine," Llorrin said, turning to the cell.

"Yours and mine," Jeredan said with a nod.

Llorrin ignored him and studied Gronbag closely, trying to make up his mind about how to approach this interrogation, for Wheann and Jeredan had thrown him off almost entirely. This orc, while not as old as the warlock had been, seemed old enough to have fought in the First and Second wars. If he hadn't always belonged to the Warsong - something his tattoos seemed to indicate - he'd ravaged the Kingdom of Stormwind, conquered much of the Seven Kingdoms under Warchief Orgrim Doomhammer and finally witnessed the Horde's defeat at the hands of Sir Lothar and the Alliance. It was probable he'd escaped back to Draenor after the Horde's defeat and resisted the Alliance Expedition that had followed them to Draenor as well. He may have fought alongside the likes of Grom Hellscream, battling his way through the Dark Portal to escape Draenor and reach Azeroth again before Ner'zhul's magics tore the orc's home planet apart... only to be seized by the Alliance on the other side and be put into internment camps along with the rest of their brothers. Under the leadership of Warchief Thrall, he had thrown off his chains, defied his captors, seized human ships and sailed to Kalimdor. Gronbag been through all that, and he was still alive. Scarred, but alive.

Compared to me, that's quite something. I may hate him, but I can't afford to underestimate him, Llorrin told himself.

"Alright, Gronbag," Llorrin began, purposely calling the orc by his name instead of just calling him 'orc', a courtesy Jeredan would never offer him. If Llorrin was going to play this game, he decided he'd better do it well. He figured in order to appear like 'the good guy' as opposed to Jeredan, he could show some actual interest in Gronbag's past. He hoped that would make him more talkative than cutting straight to the chase would. From what Llorrin had seen, the orc's ego seemed big enough to fall for that. He tried to find something to ask him about, something that the orc would like to speak about, yet something he'd be genuinely interested in as well. Llorrin wasn't exactly eager on hearing how many humans Gronbag had butchered or anything like that.

The tattoos, of course, he told himself, paying some closer attention to them now. Gronbag carried a tattoo of a bleeding eye on his right arm and another on the flat of his hand, and two tattoos of the jagged skull of the Warsong clan on the opposite side. Scars and nicks ran over and through the eye tattoos, making them appear older than the Warsong tattoos, which looked clear and quite new.

"Were you always a Warsong orc? Those don't look like Warsong tattoos to me," Llorrin said, nodding towards the eyes. He tried not to show it, but he was glad to see Gronbag grin and apparently fall for it.

"Haven't you felt my strength? I belonged to the Bleeding Hollow clan, of course!" Gronbag boasted.

That does explain a lot. The Bleeding Hollow clan was there when the Horde first invaded Azeroth, they escaped back to Draenor after the Second War and joined with the Warsong to fight for Ner'zhul. Their clan was split in two when some, but not all, escaped from Draenor when the Dark Portal was destroyed, Llorrin thought, his former suspicions now confirmed. This was no mere loudmouth of an orc, but indeed a veteran of countless battles who had been part of every major engagement the Horde had ever waged.

"The Bleeding Hollow clan... A clan named so because their chieftain was stupid enough to lose his eye. Not really something to boast about, but these are orcs," Jeredan said icily.

"Nice words from a man who boasts about the warriors he's killed by drawing pretty scars on his face," Gronbag grinned, much to Jeredan's frustration.

"I know the Bleeding Hollow clan, Jeredan. Kilrogg Deadeye isn't just well-known amongst orcs," Llorrin said.

"Known because the people of Stromgarde can't stop boasting about how 'their' Danath Trollbane slew him. Perhaps if your chieftain hadn't lost his eye, he could've seen the sword Danath chucked at his throat coming," Jeredan chuckled. "Kilrogg was a big name, but a name doesn't make a warrior. I've killed many less renown orcs far tougher than him, but you don't hear anyone boasting about that."

You already boast too much about it yourself, you don't need anyone to do it for you, Llorrin thought.

A part of him wished Jeredan would shut up for a moment, but at least the warrior was playing his role well. Llorrin wasn't entirely sure if Jeredan was on to what he was doing or if it was just a coincidence, though. Jeredan's view on interrogations seemed far less… subtle than his own, he didn't necesarrily recognize what Llorrin was doing.

"He may yet live, you humans never found his body, did you?" Gronbag said while Llorrin was pondering on that.

"If everyone who got missing during a battle was alive, there'd be whole armies out there," Jeredan said, crossing his arms.

"What I really want to know is what a Bleeding Hollow orc is doing leading Warsong orcs," Llorrin said before the conversation derailed any further.

Gronbag seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting. All according to plan, Llorrin thought, trying hard not to smile.

"My clan is not what it used to be. Part of us didn't make it off Draenor when Khadgar closed the Dark Portal, and though Warchief Thrall freed us from the internment camps, we didn't have the numbers to be a leading force in the Horde anymore, and are never committed to large engagements, and I grew sick of that. I wanted to stand on my own feet, that's why I joined with the Warsong clan. The new Warchief was easily convinced when I told him I'd fought alongisde Grom Hellscream," he boasted.

"You have a new warchief?" Llorrin asked. Gronbag made a face that showed he realized he'd given more information than he should have. He seemed to consider lying and grew quiet for a while, but then spoke anyway.

"Aye, Warchief Garrosh," he said, oddly serious all of a sudden. "Son to the great Grom Hellscream, but he is neither his father, nor Thrall. He is strong-willed, but he wasn't there to fight the demons at the Battle of Mount Hyal, and neither was he there when the demons forced us to fight our corrupted Warsong brothers. Warchief Thrall should have appointed someone who'd been through those battles, someone who had fought and bled knowing what was at stake for our people, someone who had witnessed the true threat to our people firsthand."

True threat? Does he means the demons? Llorrin thought skeptically. Was this orc trying to blame his crimes on someone else, or was he simply trying to deceive him?

"What happened to Thrall? Is he dead?" Llorrin asked, not allowing himself to be confused. He didn't know much about this Thrall, but if he'd allowed his people to ally with humanity against the demons, there must have been more to him than to a common orc. In the end though, it was clear even Thrall had only used them for his own survival, Llorrin reasoned.

"No human, you're not that lucky," Gronbag once again laughed. "There is an elemental upheaval at hand. Some time ago a great storm ravaged the shores of Kalimdor and drowned countless shore dwellers, you must have noticed. Warchief Thrall has sailed out to the center of this storm, and left Garrosh in command."

The storm that nearly wiped out the fleet, Llorrin realized. He'd always felt it couldn't have been natural. Why hadn't Elduin told him these things? Surely the druid must be wiser than this orc, and should've known about it too. No, I can't think about Elduin, not now, Llorrin thought, realizing how miserable he must've looked. He quickly let his sadness turn into anger.

"Fine then. You have a new warchief. You're quite a warrior to have survived that much, but despite all that you are still my prisoner. You're going to tell me all about your new warchief, and the holdings your Horde has established on Kalimdor. I suggest you be cooperative, otherwise it'll be him you're talking to, not me," Llorrin told Gronbag with a nudge in Jeredan's direction, amazed the warrior had managed to keep his mouth shut through all that.

Gronbag merely grinned.

"Trying to play the nice guy with me and scare me with him, eh? That's not going to work. Some snotnosed brat isn't going to trick me. I know how interrogations work."

Really? He's already on to me? Llorrin thought, unable to hide his disappointment. If only Irewyth had been better, he could've brought her. She had a ways with people, and perhaps with orcs, too. What would she say? Llorrin thought frantically.

"You're used to being interrogated? I bet that means this isn't the first time you got captured then?" he said with the same innocent but nevertheless clever expression Irewyth would show someone if she was trying to get under someone's skin.

"It's not," Jeredan said before the orc could react.

Llorrin raised an eyebrow. "You… know each other?" He'd already suspected something like that when Gronbag hade made the comment on Jeredan's facial markings, but he had Gronbag to know Jeredan by reputation, not personally. From what he could gather, most orcs who met Jeredan were no longer around.

"Might be," Gronbag yawned, stretching himself out as well as his bonds allowed. "I've 'known' many humans in my day."

Jeredan took a step towards the cell. "Don't you remember me?" he asked, punching the iron bars with a force that would have broken a lesser man's knuckles.

"I do remember you, I just don't give a rat's ass about you. You weren't very memorable," Gronbag said, leaning back against the wall. His jagged fangs seemed longer when he grinned.

"Bullshit. We've fought three times-" Jeredan said, his hand cutting through the air.

"And I'm not dead, so I'm not impressed," the orc captain shrugged.

"I'm not dead either, should I be impressed with you?" Jeredan asked as he stepped closer, his armour scraping the iron bars softly.

"You'll both be dead if I don't get me some answers," Llorrin growled. He knew Jeredan had continued hunting orcs even when they had been regarded as pacified, but it still came as a surprise to him some orcs had actually survived the encounter.

So this orc managed to slip through Jeredan's fingers several times. Small wonder he never told me anything about him, Llorrin thought, wondering what else he didn't know about him. He quickly came to the conclusion there were probably a lot of things he didn't want to know.

Regardless, Llorrin didn't have time to sit through this merry reunion. He quickly reached inside his pocket and pulled out the simple map he'd drawn. He handed the parchment to Gronbag through the bars, mindful not to stick his arm too close to the orc.

"Here, take it. It's a map of Kalimdor. I want you to indicate where you orcs have settlements, mines, farmland, where you've built roads, anything you know about the mainland," he demanded, mildly surprised that Gronbag actually took it without ripping it apart.

Only when Gronbag had unfolded the map did Llorrin also shove a quill and ink his way. Asking any simple grunt would've probably been useless, but as a senior captain and an orc of high status, Gronbag was supposed to have a sound knowledge of cartography and the military operations and settlements of the orcs.

"Why should we trust anything he puts down on that map?" Jeredan growled, his fingers tapping his arms impatiently.

He's more clever than he looks, but only sometimes, Llorrin thought, once again regretting he'd brought Jeredan. He turned away from the cell and pulled Jeredan away from it a little before he answered him.

"I won't trust him, in fact, if he's smart he'll try to give us false information that will lure us into a trap," Llorrin sighed, keeping his voice down. He wondered if he should ask Jeredan to leave, "but if we can capture another orc, and he tells us the same…"

"Then why didn't you pick some more out of the water, like I told you to?!" Jeredan fumed.

"It'd have to be one who doesn't know we already have another prisoner that we're going to ask the same questions. Any second orc we would've picked out of the water would've figured out we were going to test both their answers against one another, and might not have spoken a word even to save his own skin," Llorrin said, getting seriously irritated with Jeredan. The crusader may very well have botched the entire plan if Gronbag had overheard them, though it all depended on whether or not the orc believed they could actually capture another of his kind. At any rate, Gronbag was drawing something on the map. Perhaps he'd finally realized his survival would depend a great deal on his cooperation…

"Did this take you seven years?" Gronbag snickered as he held the map in his hands, blinking his eyes rapidly, as if he couldn't believe it.

Llorrin's jaw clenched. Though Gronbag probably didn't expect it, of all the comments he'd had already made, this one stung the most. Seven years…

"We suffered delays," Llorrin said in a small voice.

"Aye, we suffered delays as well when we first sailed here. Ran into some filthy sea witch… and some of your pals, too. Heh, they didn't make it. We used stolen boats, of course, human boats. No wonder most of them got wrecked on our way here, I suppose I should feel sorry for you humans, who have to go to sea on such floating coffins. Still didn't take us seven years though" Gronbag chuckled, folding the map painstakingly slowly. He extended the finished map slowly.

"It's your boats that got sunk just now," Llorrin retorted, snapping the map from Gronbag's hand as soon as it came in reach and opening it quickly to see what Gronbag had drawn on it. He froze. The figure Gronbag had drawn all over his parchment was unmistakably meant to represent him, and he was attached to some sort of torture device that had stretched his limbs and had almost finished ripping off his forearms and his lower legs. The grinning orc that was operating the machine was obviously Gronbag himself. The scars and tattoos on his arms were unmistakeable, and Gronbag had paid close attention to him. Jeredan walked up to look over Llorrin's shoulder. The warrior rubbed his chin slowly as he let his eyes stray over the drawing.

"Ah. Inspiration," he said, not fazed in the least.

"What do you make of this?" Llorrin, who had the eerie feeling Jeredan was enjoying the drawing a little too much asked as he pointed to a severed head with on the bottom right corner of the map. Jeredan's grin turned to a scowl when he recognized his own face despite the missing eye Gronbag had drawn so carefully.

"You're quite the artist," Llorrin admitted with a scowl as he crumpled up the paper and threw it at Gronbag's face, sighing when it bounced off the bars. He let Gronbag's laughter wash over him, pretending not to hear it.

Jeredan crossed his arms. "This is the least fun I've had interoggating someone, ever. Even watching the men drink each other under the table would have been better. I could have earned myself some money by betting on Bors by now," he complained.

"Celebrating, eh? You think you've won a great victory, sinking two ships, but you have no idea how powerful the Horde has become. You're sailing to your doom," Gronbag said.

"You're starting to sound like a warlock I knew briefly, before I killed him, that is," Llorrin retorted, once again thinking Irewyth would've been proud if she'd seen him now.

"I've killed more of your kind than I can count, orc. You've killed none of me. A few thousand more won't matter," Jeredan shrugged.

"Unless you two want to continue having a pissing contest, perhaps you can finally tell us something worthwhile," Llorrin interrupted. "You orcs seem to have had a good time since you came to Kalimdor, there must be something you wish to share."

"Well, first off, your admiral is dead," Gronbag said.

Llorrin pretended he was shocked.

"Bullshit."

"He is dead. He tried to attack Durotar, but was driven back. He may have succeeded if not for Rexxar, that old scoundrel. Rexxar gathered the tauren, troll and ogre tribes against him right on time."

Only right on time? How typical, Llorrin thought, frustrated. He didn't know what a tauren was, but the trolls and the ogres had left the Horde a long time ago. That they had joined forces with the orcs again was bad news indeed.

"What chance do you think you have?" Gronbag inquired.

"Jaina Proudmoore sailed to Kalimdor before we did. We'll rally her remaining forces against you… Wherever they are," Llorrin said, remembering he should pretend not to know anything about Theramore.

"Hah! Does all your hope rest on a frail little girl? Let me tell you something about Jaina. She assisted Thrall in attacking the frail island city of Theramore. The girl told him where to find a goblin shipyard, which delivered us the ships we needed to break through the blockade Proudmoore had formed around the isle. I was at the warchief's side before the assault, I saw their encounter with my own eyes. She didn't mind that Thrall was going to kill her father. All she asked was for her own men to be spared once the battle was done."

This was new to Llorrin. Shocking, too, if it was true.

"Why would she do that?" he asked skeptically. He felt Daelin would be turning in his grave if he knew one of his soldiers was even considering believing this slander, but then again, he remembered Elduin and Captain Adane's reactions to Jaina, so he couldn't quite discard the thought the orc might be speaking the truth…

"Thrall and Jaina forged the first alliance between orcs and humans together and brought us together against the Burning Legion, the demons who crushed your human kingdoms and corrupted my own kind… for a time."

"Don't fool yourself, orc. If you didn't want to be 'corrupted', you would have died resisting the demons. You're still corrupted, and you'll never change," Jeredan said.

"Thrall and Jaina saw it differently. You could say those two are behind all the cooperations that happened between the Horde and the Alliance, so when Jaina's old man showed up and started ruining the alliance they had forged… well you can see for yourself that didn't go down so well with either of them. Despite their efforts, Horde and Alliance are once again at each other's necks. Warchief Garrosh believes it's our fate to fight."

"That's one thing we can agree on," Jeredan said grimly.

"Garrosh would welcome some more Kul Tiras pigs to slaughter. You'll never meet him though. Our juggernaughts patrol the seas, and going by the wit you two have shown, you won't make it very far. Perhaps I should speak to this Irewyth instead. She sounds like she has more brains than the two of you combined."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, orc," Llorrin almost laughed, actually toying with the idea of actually leaving Gronbag an hour in the presence of Irewyth.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked Jeredan as he suddenly saw the crusader advancing on the cell. The orc straightened up as Jeredan entered the cell.

"Jeredan!" Llorrin warned him, reaching for his cutlass, but surprisingly enough Jeredan didn't try to kill Gronbag. Instead he reached for the runed bracers on the orc captain's forearms, taking them off.

"Jeredan, what are you doing?" Llorrin asked, frowning. Jeredan looked like a walking steel mountain already and wasn't in any need for more armour, and aside from his scars he carried no victory trophies with him that Llorrin knew about.

"I'm taking these, and why not? To the victor go the spoils. Half the things these orcs have are stolen anyway. They have no right to them. And he soon won't have any more use for them," Jeredan said with a dark look in Gronbag's direction. The orc's lips pulled back over his teeth slowly.

"I didn't think you liked that fancy stuff," Llorrin remarked as Jeredan made his way out of the cell.

"They're not for me," Jeredan said gruffly, throwing the bracers into Llorrin's arms, who caught them. The cold metal tingled underneath his fingertips. Llorrin gave his companion a questioning look, and Jeredan responded with a harsh push.

"Look at yourself. Frail, flimsy, and almost unarmoured," Jeredan said with another push, gesturing disdainfully. "You're bound to die if you don't get some serious equipment soon, because we'll be meeting more of his kind soon, and then you'd better be prepared."

Sighing, Llorrin tried putting on the bracers. He never expected them to fit, but to his surprise, they did, like they already seemed smaller than when he had just caught them. The runic symbols lighted up slowly, and Llorrin could hear the faintest humming, though he wasn't sure if it wasn't just his imagination.

"Enchanted, as I thought. There's a reason this bastard survived that storm," Jeredan said, crossing his arms as he gazed down on them.

"You'll give those back, human," Gronbag threatened icily. "You'll give those back, or I'll curse every day you wear them, from this day to your last… which will be soon, if you hold on to them."

"Oh, the chained up orc is going to call down a curse. I'm shaking in my boots," Llorrin said, turning away from Gronbag. He was done interrogating this orc for now. Tomorrow would be another day. When Jeredan didn't move to follow Llorrin stopped to address him before he left.

"Jeredan, if I wake up tomorrow to find our friend here with a slashed throat, I'll put your corpse beside his, understood? Make sure he's guarded well, and keep your hands off of him. If he's right, there'll soon be plenty of other orcs for you to kill."

As he made his way out of the brigg Llorrin couldn't help but feel he had botched this interrogation quite badly. The orc had given them very little useful information, and what he had told them, he had no doubt revealed for his own reasons. Llorrin shook his head. Blaming it all on Wheann or Jeredan seemed too easy. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the messdeck where his crew was still celebrating 'their' victory over the orcs. They should all be crafting little statuettes of Irewyth instead of getting drunk, Llorrin thought.

The cheer he was greeted with as he stepped inside was softer than the last, because by now fewer men were sober enough to notice his entry. As Jeredan had predicted, Bors had indeed drunk a couple of men under the table already, and the provisions master didn't look like he was quitting any time soon. The sight brought a smirk to Llorrin's face, but at the same time he wondered if he could really afford to have his crew become so vulnerable, when the next attack was potentially mere hours away. Darkness would soon fall though, so they were unlikely to be noticed by any enemies. Nevertheless, it would pay to have a good lookout on watch duty. Llorrin looked to see if he could find Wheann, but distinctive though he was, the half-elf was nowhere to be seen.

Before he'd even shut the door properly behind him he was surrounded by a couple of marines, mostly men belonging to Jeredan's crew. His heart skipped a beat, but then all of the men started firing questions at him simultaneously and he realized he had nothing to be afraid of.

"What did he say, captain?"

"Is Daelin really dead?"

"Have the orcs conquered the mainland yet?"

Seriously Llorrin, get a grip, he told himself. If they're going to murder you, they won't do so in plain sight.

Llorrin raised his hands in a diplomatic gesture. The men had all remained sober waiting from the news from the mainland they were hoping to get from him, and he admired them for it. He didn't want to lie to them, but he didn't really want to admit how little information he'd been able to get from Gronbag either.

"I hate to admit it, but I never held much doubt Admiral Proudmoore has fallen, and this orc, too, has confirmed it. However, we'll only truly know the truth once we reach Tiragarde," he said, not willing to crush their spirits.

"I don't want to trouble you men too much, not now," he said truthfully, "and nor do I want to spread any lies the orc may have told me around me before I've been able to think about what he said for a while first."

That didn't seem to be the answer the men had been waiting for, but they appeared to be able to accept his reasons nevertheless. Llorrin considered telling these men they were all on guard duty, but that would seem like a horribly unfair way to reward them for their dedication to the cause. Perhaps he was worrying just a little bit too much about another attack happening so soon. There hadn't been a sign of any Naga since Elduin had plunged lifelessly into the sea, and what were the odds more than two orc warships would sail so close to one another? Llorrin wished the men good night and prepared to leave, deciding he had to take at least some measures to make sure everyone wouldn't be so hungover tomorrow they'd get themselves killed doing daily chores.

As he pushed through the room a voice suddenly stopped him.

"Hey captain, leaving already?" Bors shouted with a voice that thundered over the rest of the ruckus. He raised a large pint into the air. Three men lay unconscious on the table around him, their faces planted on the table and their empty pints scattered to all sides. "How about a little drinking contest? I've ran out of contestors, surely the captain will make a more formidable adversary than these wretched sea dogs."

"Formidable? Pah, I hear he drinks like an elf! Hah!" the raw voice of one of Jeredan's sailors shouted.

Llorrin felt himself growing uncomfortable. Not only would Bors completely destroy him in a drinking contest, it also seemed the men had learned about his little drunken meeting with Adane. I should probably strangle Irewyth the next time I see her, Llorrin thought, but he considered Wheann could have just as well told them the story.

"Another time, Bors. One of us has to stay sober," he said, feeling and hearing the disappointment reverbate through the room. He realized he was wasting a perfect opportunity to raise his popularity a little among the crew, but he really couldn't afford getting drunk now. He had too much to worry about to just drink it all away, and he didn't want to bring the men's spirits down with his sullen mood. Then he had a sudden idea.

"I can't stay, but I'll bet five gold pieces on whoever challenges you next," he said, reaching into his purse and placing some coins on the table. "I'll give my profits to whichever man manages to best you," he proclaimed in a loud voice. He figured this ought to do the trick to get Bors some more contestants. Five gold pieces was a lot of money, and if it wasn't their own money they risked losing, they had no reason not to give it a shot.

Bors grinned. "Five gold pieces? You'll make a rich man of me yet, cap'n. You and my friend here," he said, slapping himself on the belly with pride.

"Maybe I'll even teach you some manners one day," Llorrin said with a wink, relieved to hear the room burst into laughter. Llorrin left as the men pretty much fell over each other trying to reach Bors' table in order to challenge him, their courage fueled by greed.

When he'd finally made his way back to the upper deck Llorrin took a deep, refreshing breath, and only when the cold night air touched his skin did he notice he'd been sweating. Llorrin was greeted by a starlit sky, though he was aware his peers couldn't quite see the stars yet at this time of day. He'd always had the best night eyes in his crew, as was apparent from how the nearest guard, whom Llorrin could see clearly, didn't react to his presence. Due to the orcish threat, Llorrin had ordered to dim all the lights so their ships couldn't get spotted from afar.

"A sad day to be on the night shift," the man sighed when Llorrin got close enough for him to notice him. When he saw who he was talking to he quickly saluted.

"Indeed. The party isn't gonna last though," Llorrin said, speaking casually in hopes of putting the man at ease, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. "At midnight, I want you and your team to break it up," he said nevertheless. "Some celebrating is good, but too much is too much. I want everyone in shape tomorrow. No more delays."

"Sir," the man said, saluting as Llorrin made his way to his captain's cabin. He felt bad for the men who were on the night shift, and not simply because they were missing out on the celebrations. As hot as the day had been, the night was cold, and there was a chilling wind that howled softly in between the ships, like a ghost was flying from mast to mast or diving down to lurk in the space between the two frigates.

It wasn't much warmer in his cabin, so Llorrin only took off his boots, bracers and vest before going to bed. He was restless, staring at the ceiling with one arm resting on his forehead as he slowly let his unspent anger flow from his body, the cold air cooling off his warm skin. He thought about Gronbag, what he had said, and how he should approach the next interrogation. Perhaps a few weeks on water and bread would make the orc more willing to share his secrets, but it somehow seemed unlikely the veteran orc would break so easily.

He opened his eyes to find the room had become much darker than he remembered, realizing he must have fallen asleep. He could hear rain rattling off the top of his cabin and he could hear it hitting into the deck as well, almost too clearly. A cold draught spilled into the room and Llorrin realized with a shock that the door to his cabin was wide open. He turned and discovered a huge silhouette filling up the doorframe, small clouds emitting from the intruders' nostrils and mouth as he breathed coarsely. The smell of blood reached Llorrin, and he caught a glimpse of sharp fangs and a knife being raised as the dark silhouette leaped forward at him.

There was neither enough time nor space to roll or jump out of the way, so Llorrin braced himself, catching a meaty arm in his left hand as the knife came down on him and raising his right arm to block off the avalanche of muscle that came crashing down on him. As the massive weight pushed down on him Llorrin's knees were pushed against his chest and he could feel his thighs practically ripping under the pressure, but somehow he found the strength to fight back even as the intruder tried using his full weight against him. Hot, sickly breath washed over his face as the intruder exhaled, growling at him silently. He felt blood tickling down his leg and realized it must've been the intruders'. Llorrin scarcely had the time to wonder how an orc had gotten aboard, for the orc's free hand suddenly reached over to cover his mouth. The purpose was a little bit more brutal than simply trying to stop him from calling for help, for Llorrin could feel the orc's thumb begin to press into his throat, threatening to crush it. He coughed uselessly against the orc's gnarly hand, twisting his face left and right to try and escape out from under the orc's deadly grip.

He tried to roll to the left and back to the right in quick succession, hoping that slamming the orc into the wall repeatedly would not only weaken him, but also cause enough noise to attract some of the other crewmen, but the orc soon readjusted his arm to restrain his legs and stop, limiting his mobility. The knife inched closer and closer to his face until Llorrin could feel it's sharp blade pressing through his eyebrow, the skin right below his eye and even his eyelid. He opened his eye frantically, feeling the sharp blade cutting through his eyelid. Half the world turned red, and he was almost out of air.

"Not worth the bullets, eh?" the orc breathed close to his face.

His mind screamed a wordless message, and Llorrin instinctively reacted to it, reaching for his pocket, his fingers closing around the knife Jeredan had given him. Without hesitation he pulled it free, jamming it upwards into the orc's flesh time and again. The intruders' mouth opened in a soundless cry, and the warm blood that gushed down onto his thighs felt like a sweet kiss.

"Damn right," Llorrin growled, moving the knife violently from side to side, carving a wicked pattern into the orc's chest. The orc roared and Llorrin could feel his grip on his throat loosening. He jammed the knife deeper and was finally able to kick the orc off of him, knocking him backwards onto his desk. As he was getting up from the bed he saw the orc clutching his side, blood running out from it. He realized he must have hit the orc in exactly that spot, but there was no way a kick could have caused such a wound. He remembered the blood that had tickled down his leg already at the beginning of the fight and realized the orc must have already been wounded, his kick must have simply ripped the skin open further. Aside from blood, the intruder had the smell of sea water about him, and his skin looked wrinkled and pale, like it'd been wet for a long time. The orc slipped down from the desk, crashing onto his knees, his breath no more than a whisper. Llorrin nearly stumbled and his legs felt like they were going to give in under his weight. Somehow he remained on his feet, long enough to crash down on the orc and bury his knife down into the side of his neck, so deeply he could no longer see the blade. What little light was left in the orc's eyes soon faded, but with their faces close together as they were, Llorrin managed to distinguish a grin, like the orc had died happily.

Confused, Llorrin looked down, his bloody left eye pressed shut, to discover the orc's knife jammed deeply into his side. When he cried out in surprise, only a muffled, garbled sound came out, and blood came dripping from his mouth. Carekon, I need to get to Carekon, he thought as the room began to spin around him. He pushed himself up on the desk with one hand and stumbled towards the still open door. Looking outside, through the rain, he half expected to find the corpses of the men of the night shift lying scattered across the deck, but alive or dead, none of the men were anywhere to be seen. Apart from the sound of the rain, the deck was eerily quiet.

His body felt broken as he stumbled outside, hurting in places he'd never realized one could feel so much pain before. Where is everyone? he thought. When he looked up towards the moon, which was full, he realized what was wrong. The moon had reached its zenith, it was midnight, the exact time he'd told the men of the night shift to go down to the messroom and break up the party.

Just my luck, he thought, snickering almost madly at his misfortune, something he soon regretted when shocks of pain shot through his side. With a groan he pulled out the dagger and watched it slip from his fingers. He stumbled forward, one hand pressed to his wound. The rain made him feel like he was freezing, and due to the noise it was making in the darkness, half-blind and dazed as he was, he felt like he'd lost all sense of direction, dwelling through the darkness in what felt like hours, until he found himself out of the rain, stumbling towards a door.

Please be awake, please… he thought as he crashed against the door, falling to his knees as he practically crawled into the room. His head hung down and he didn't feel like he was able to lift it, so he couldn't tell if he'd even made it to the right room. He heard a woman cry out and saw an old man hastily rising from a chair from the corner of his eye as the floor came heading up towards him.

"That knife almost caused permanent damage, but we should be able to save the eye," Carekon said, stopping Llorrin's hand as he raised it up to feel the silk stitches in his eyelid.

"You have to mind not to touch it. It's very dangerous to get an infection there now. If the wound gets infected, you may lose the eye. In fact…" Carekon said as he went to search for something.

"Why don't you just heal it? You healed the stab wound without a problem," Llorrin complained, feeling the scars right below and above his left eye instead. His skin felt weird where the knife had split his eyebrow.

"The eye is a very delicate organ. If I had blasted holy light straight into it, it might have blinded you forever. You'll have to wear this until it heals," Carekon said, presenting him with a small object. Even as he took the cotton object in his hand Llorrin wasn't quite sure what it was. Then he flipped it around and saw the strap attached to it.

"An eyepatch?" he groused. Irewyth's chuckling rubbed some salt in the wound.

"It will only be temporarily, and it's nothing to be ashamed of," Carekon said. "Even Maxwell Tyrosus wears an eyepatch."

Llorrin frowned. "Who?"

"He's a paladin I was grateful enough to meet during my time at the Temple of Light in Stratholme. He had a solid grasp on the workings of the Holy Light himself, but alas, he couldn't use it to save his eye either."

Holding back a sigh, Llorrin put the eyepatch on. Looking about the room, he could tell this was going to take some time getting used to. He could practically feel Irewyth's eyes piercing into his back. She lay on the bed behind him, nudging his back gently with her foot in a clear attempt to attract his attention, no doubt to get a peek at what he looked like with the eyepatch on. Instead of turning around Llorrin hastily got up. He'd slept through the night and some of the morning to recover, and according to Carekon, Jeredan was commanding the crew in his absence and had already taken steps to finding out more about the assassin.

All the more reason to get out of here as fast as possible, Llorrin thought, heading towards the door.

Irewyth curled up on her side and propped one arm below her head, finally getting a proper look at his face as he turned and headed for the door.

"It looks good on you," she said.

"A compliment? For almost losing my eye? Remind me to let them lop off an arm the next time I get into a fight," Llorrin said, reaching for the door knob, but Irewyth wasn't about to let him go yet.

"Don't be like that," she pouted, ignoring Llorrin's one-eyed glare. "You've been awfully rude to me already, just bursting into my room all bloodied up like that in the middle of the night. There's ladies who would get upset for less."

"This isn't your room."

Carekon stepped forward. If he was getting fed up with his younger companions' banter, he did a good job of hiding it.

"Jeredan told me he wanted to see you urgently. You should probably go to him as soon as possible," the chaplain urged him on. Only then did Llorrin really notice how tired Carekon looked.

Poor guy, he has to put up with Irewyth's banter all day. I suppose he can at least count himself lucky she's barely ever awake... Llorrin thought as he nodded absently, making a mental note of relieving Carekon of this burden soon. With a final look at Irewyth, he quickly headed through the door. He was faced with Jeredan almost immediately. The warrior's black-armoured shape nearly seemed to fill up the entire corridor. Jeredan saw the eye patch, but surprisingly didn't comment on it. Instead he raised a knife to Llorrin's face.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" Llorrin asked as he jumped backwards.

"You killed an orc, you deserve a marking. Come here," Jeredan said, twisting the knife from side to side.

"Keep that insane bullshit to yourself!" Llorrin said, raising his hands protectively. Jeredan could claim women found his markings attractive as much as he wanted, Llorrin had entirely different ideas about what women would think about a guy who promoted self-mutilation. When Jeredan snickered and lowered the knife Llorrin realized he'd only been joking, but he still didn't appreciate it.

"It's good to see you," the warrior said, tucking the knife away like nothing had happened. "The old man didn't want to let me near you until you'd woken up. I told him someone who could survive a close encounter with a Warsong orc wouldn't die from losing a few hours of sleep, but he wouldn't listen."

"Carekon told me you wanted to speak to me, what have you been up to?" Llorrin asked. He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

"Cleaning up your mess. Did you notice the corpse?" Jeredan growled, apparently aggravated that Llorrin didn't take it for granted that he'd have to speak to him. Then he got right to the point. "We have another traitor on board."

Llorrin frowned.

"What makes you say that?!"

"Someone helped that orc get aboard. It would appear he'd clung onto the ship after Irewyth's little storm had wrecked their juggernaughts. We found a rope hanging down the back of the ship. Obviously someone was helping him. The dagger he tried to assassinate you with wasn't his either. Bors has confirmed that both items were missing from the storage room, and he had only last checked it yesterday morning."

That pretty much erased all doubt the orc could've gotten it from anywhere else. Bors might like his ale just a little too much, but he was about as punctual a provisions' master as any captain could wish for. He fell silent as he pondered on this matter, wondering if he'd be able to take this, another traitor on board. He only snapped out of it when Jeredan nudged him painfully against the shoulder.

"Come. I said I was cleaning up your mess, and I will. I've assembled all the men. Both crews. We're going to find out who the traitor is. We're going to get to the bottom of this," the warrior said, turning and heading towards the upper deck without a question.

Llorrin looked down at the runed bracers on his arms as he followed Jeredan, trailing the runic symbols with his finger. "I almost got killed hours after putting these on. Perhaps I should've been more wary of that curse Gronbag spoke about," he said. To him, it simply defied all logic that there were still men on board who wanted him gone.

"Almost dead is still alive. Don't be so superstitious. That's what gets you killed," Jeredan warned him.

Llorrin frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'll kill you myself if you keep believing anything that comes out of an orc's filthy mouth. How many orcish curses do you think I have floating around me, eh? Do I look dead to you?"

"Not very," Llorrin had to admit, feeling quite bad about being outwitted by Jeredan of all people. "I didn't sink those ships though, it's Irewyth who should-"

"Part of being a leader is being prepared to take credit for things you don't deserve to get any credit for," Jeredan cut him off. "Keep them."

"You're always so cynical," Llorrin lightly accused him. Jeredan slowed down his pace.

"Can't deny that, but why shouldn't I be? You can thank my old commander, that fool Gaelos, for that. Used to take the credit for everything our company ever achieved, told us if he'd been in charge, the Horde would have never crushed us at the Swamps of Sorrow. Some fools even believed him, thought him a great warrior. In truth, he was a fool who got many of my brothers killed because of his incompetence, and the only reason he survived so many battles was because I was always guarding his back, but since he was a highborn lord no one ever even considered how incompetent he was, and no one ever praised me for guarding his back. It went on like that for a while. Well, until I 'lost sight' of him during a pinch and an orc buried an axe in his skull. That was near the end of the First War."

"What happened to your company?" Llorrin asked, oddly reminded of how Jeredan had bailed out on him during the Naga attack even though he'd been ordered to guard his back, but also intrigued. It was uncommon for Jeredan to open up like this.

"We went… separate ways."

You mean you deserted, Llorrin thought, but he thought it wiser to not speak it out loud, though he had a feeling Jeredan knew he was on to him.

"It's not like you to run from a fight," he smirked.

"I split only right after I'd witnessed the razing of Stormwind, the war was over by that point. I didn't 'run from a fight' any more than any of the other survivors did, I simply didn't stick with them," Jeredan bit at him. "You may get all shaky when you think about what the undead did to your fleet, well, put that out of your mind, it doesn't compare to what the orcs did to Stormwind. I'd fought and bled like no other man before me but nevertheless I got to see the city burn right before my eyes. That's when I realized I couldn't rely on any puffed up lords to tell me what to do. I did not fail, it was our leaders who failed us! To them we're nothing but fodder, subjects who are only there to give their lives to help contribute to theirgreatness. Why should I follow them, and see all my efforts go to waste? When I saw, and heard all those citizens being slaughtered, I realized no one should rely on others for their safety. The only ones who survive, are those who can stand their own ground. Other people are just a liability. That's why after the war was done, I went my own way."

"I suppose that's when you started hunting orcs on your own?" Llorrin said in a small voice. He'd never realized how much the sack of Stormwind had affected Jeredan. If Kul Tiras were razed to the ground, he could only imagine what it would do to him. Perhaps the Scourge had already reached the island nation. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"Mostly, though I wasn't always on my own. There were others like me, men who had nothing left but their vengeance. During the Second War, I served this lord and that captain now and then as a mercenary, but never longer than it was required for me to gather some new companions or equipment when I had to. I always made sure to leave service before some idiot could send me to my death."

"Considering how much you hate the Horde, I'm surprised you didn't join Khadgar's expedition to Draenor," Llorrin said.

"Why should I have? Those fools may have closed the Dark Portal, but they got themselves killed all the same. The orcs may have been kept away from me in those damned internment camps, but there were still many ogres and trolls on Azeroth to hunt. They had to pay for their crimes, and I always knew the orcs would bust out of those internment camps sooner or later."

Llorrin nodded. The internment camps had been one big mistake. As lifeless and downtrodden as the orcish warriors may have been after the demonic and Warlock energies had burned out in their veins, an orc was still an orc. It shouldn't have taken a genius to see the orcs would one day cast off their chains and rise up again, but the Alliance had still allowed it to happen. Still, the thought that Jeredan would have gladly slaughtered all of the captive orcs personally even when they were almost completely defenseless somehow didn't sit right with him.

"So I'm to take it you hurried back as soon as you heard the orcs were busting out of their camps?"

"Yes, my mates and I knew that was going to happen, so we kept our eyes and our ears open. I never helped any of the garrisons directly though. Orcs shouldn't be faced on the field. You need to pick them off one by one, hit them when they least expect it, in your own time, without a score of weaklings around you that are sure to fall and cause more trouble than they're worth. Don't look at me like that. What do you fight for, if not vengeance? In order to get your vengeance, you need to stay alive. Never forget that," Jeredan told him, a bright flicker lighting up his dark eyes briefly.

"When will it stop? For you, I mean?" Llorrin asked, painfully aware he was treading the same path as Jeredan.

"Never," Jeredan stated grimly, and without hesitation. "I lost more than just my commander in those ruins, Llorrin. You think you're better than me, but we're really quite alike. You always look at me as if I disgust you, but you admire your precious admiral. He never forgave the Horde either, and that's exactly why I chose to join him. What makes him so different from me?"

That left Llorrin speechless, even though he wanted to say something. Before he could come up with an answer they reached the upper deck, where his crew awaited him. As he looked over his assembled crew, all tidily lined up, Llorrin made a mental note to make sure he wouldn't let Jeredan get the last word the next time.

He stopped as he reached the middle of the row, crossing his hands behind his back as he looked from one man to the next. The atmosphere was so tense every ship in the orcish navy might have just as well been bearing down on them. His body still hurt all over, but he couldn't let it show. He had to wear the eyepatch and his scars like a victory mark, he told himself, and show the crew, and especially whoever of them had betrayed him, that this wanton treason hadn't weakened his resolve. Llorrin thought carefully on who his main suspects should be.

The problem he had was that it could be anyone, even Jeredan. Despite his hatred for orcs, the unscrupulous warrior would benefit the most from his death. He already commanded one ship and a crew, the second would be within his reach if Llorrin were to die. Jeredan was also awfully quick about trying to prove someone else guilty. Their interests aligned, of course, but Jeredan had to realize his little speech about how hard he found it to accept leadership he'd given less than a minute ago did little to make him sound trustworthy.

Jeredan was with me the entire time during the interrogation though. Then again, it couldn't have been too hard to sneak into the provisions room yesterday even though he had less time. The provisions room… Llorrin thought, his eyes straying to Bors, who was pale and sweaty, and Llorrin reckoned it wasn't because of a hangover. As the provisions' master, he had very easy access to ropes and knives, and no one would ever suspect a thing if he took some. Llorrin took a step in Bors' general direction. He felt a weird sense of satisfaction which he knew he shouldn't be feeling as he saw the fear on the provisions master's face and realized the power he wielded.

Concentrate, you have to do the right thing, not be even more like Jeredan than he wants you to, Llorrin thought, aware of the warrior's presence. The man followed close behind him like an angry guard dog that was ready to snap out at any second, a large shadow that stood over him and threatened to swallow him.

From the corner of his eye he saw someone who stood out among the rest of the sailors, but Llorrin made sure not to look at him directly. Wheann was an obvious suspect, perhaps too obvious? He had a reason to hate him, but would he go as far as to try and murder him for sleeping with Irewyth? The half-elf didn't look well; his black hair was straggly and his pale eyes were restless and somewhat puffy from a lack of sleep. It certainly spoke against him that he hadn't attended the festivities and his whereabouts were therefore unknown. For all Llorrin knew Gronbag might have even been putting ideas into his head during the time Wheann was guarding him. Llorrin would have to ask him where he'd been, but he didn't wish to do so openly. If he was innocent, distrusting him openly could destroy any chance of Wheann ever making up with him again.

Llorrin could think of no way to get to the bottom of this, at least not right now, but he felt he had to say something.

"Jeredan has made you all aware of the attempt on my life, and the fact we have another traitor on board. I'm here to tell you that this changes nothing," Llorrin proclaimed. "The threat has been dealt with, and whoever the traitor is, he's apparently someone who was too scared to wield the knife himself, and I'm not afraid of someone like that."

He contemplated reminding them of the rotting corpses that had adorned the ship's mast, but considering Carekon had more or less forgiven those men, it didn't seem like something he could afford to do. That was not the kind of captain he wanted to be, even though sometimes it felt like it would be a lot easier if he was.

"Nevertheless, I want you all to remain vigilant. If you've seen something suspicious, I want you to come tell me personally, but at the same time I do not want you to lose trust in one another. We've already come this far, and I am certain that together, we will reach Tiragarde, and then all of you will see that whoever doubted my word, was wrong. To the traitor I say this: my death would change little, because the truth cannot be concealed forever. Our destiny lies in Kalimdor, where the Horde awaits us, and I hate to keep them waiting!" he said, drawing his cutlass, the tip pointed at the sky. The pale morning sun reflected weakly off his newly acquired bracers. Cursed or not, the pieces of armour were signs of his victory. He felt silly at first when none of his men followed his example, but then one of the marines in the front row drew his sword. Others, urgent to prove their loyalty, it seemed, quickly followed his example. The drawing of swords spreading through the ranks like a wave as more and more men followed the example. Llorrin was soon looking over a gleaming sea of steel. His eyes scanned over his crew carefully, trying to see if anyone perhaps looked half-hearted, or doubtful of their cause. A couple of men looked hungover from last night, but that was all he managed to discern. Llorrin turned the tip of his sword down and shoved it back into the scabbard in one fluid motion. This time it didn't take the crew so long to follow his example.

"Now, all of you go back to your duties. I promise you this traitor will be caught very soon," he said, realizing he had no real way to be sure he'd be able to keep that promise. He kept an eye on where Wheann went after he'd dismissed the men. When the half-elf saw him too, they both averted their eyes.

Llorrin really hoped Wheann wasn't the traitor. The fear for captain Adane's wrath if it turned out Elduin had lied and Llorrin's judgement had been faulty had sparked the first mutiny, but that fear would soon be proven wrong. They would reach Tiragarde and hear the truth from the local garrison, and then anyone who had wanted Llorrin dead for supposedly disobeying orders would realize they'd been wrong to doubt him. If Wheann wanted him dead, however, it was because of his feelings for Irewyth, and reaching Tiragarde wouldn't change a thing about that.

A sudden thought hit him. Perhaps if he could make Gronbag tell the crew about the battle of Theramore and how Daelin had fallen it could already convince the men Elduin hadn't been lying. Of course, it was a risk to let Gronbag speak in front of the entire crew, because Llorrin really didn't want him to tell them anything about Jaina's betrayal, and it was unlikely the orc would leave that part out simply because Llorrin asked him nicely. Still, it was worth a shot... Llorrin would love to be able to sleep and walk around the ship without constantly having to fear someone was going to stab him. Then again getting Gronbag to speak could also all be a huge waste of effort if the traitor was indeed Wheann. A lot seemed to depend on that. As Llorrin turned to head back to the lower deck Jeredan left to tend to his own ship, giving him a disappointed look. Eryck soon appeared at his side.

"Eryck," Llorrin said, somewhat relieved to have his bodyguard next to him. "You'll have to lose your habit of constantly disappearing on me. From now on, you're going to stick close to me until we've found this traitor."

On his way back to Carekon's cabin Llorrin couldn't help but wonder whether or not he should be wary of Irewyth as well. The hydromancess had already proven to be more than just devious, and lately he'd been standing up to her a little more. It seemed very drastic for her to try and get rid of him entirely simply because she could no longer manipulate him as easily as before, but he knew how ambitious she was, and knew how ambitions could often come at the expense of others. In fact, Llorrin would be the first to admit that.

He didn't have any doubt Irewyth was capable of pulling off this ploy if she wanted too. For all he knew she could even be working through others. Carekon was charged with keeping an eye on Irewyth all day long, but even he could not stay awake forever, and Irewyth had already proven to be able to sneak around at night. Damnit, can't I trust anyone? Llorrin thought. An iron fist clenched tight around his heart whenever he considered the possibility. He'd even rather have the traitor be Wheann than her, but he knew he couldn't afford to let his judgement be clouded by his own desires.

Upon reaching the door to Carekon's cabin he stopped for a second. He couldn't let Irewyth see how troubled she was. She had the uncanny ability to make him feel like she always knew what he was thinking. He knew that was impossible, but he still couldn't shake the thought. Llorrin closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he pushed the door open.

"Back already?" Irewyth asked as she rolled over on the bed to look at him. She smiled deviously. "You look perfectly fine to me, I don't think I'm going to let you share my bed again."

"Strange, I hear it's not like you to turn people down," Eryck smirked as he shuffled into the room, making his way past Llorrin. Irewyth's eyes widened in surprise and her cheeks flushed red for a second, but then she regained her composure, pulling an eyebrow up at Eryck. Her glare was a clear warning that Llorrin knew Eryck would be wise to heed.

Llorrin shrugged uncomfortably. "I was cold and wet and had lost a lot of blood, so she kept me warm during the night, that's all there is to it," he said irritably. No doubt Irewyth thought he owed her something now, and if Eryck kept making remarks like that it wouldn't put her in a better mood, either, and she was likely to become even more needy.

"Being the captain sure has a lot of advantages," Eryck said, his lips curling into a clever smile.

"I wanted to ask you if you had any idea who's trying to get me killed," Llorrin told Carekon and Irewyth, ignoring Eryck's 'witty' comment.

Llorrin was glad to see they both appeared to know what he was talking about even though they'd been stuck inside this chamber for so long. Jeredan must have told Carekon more than Carekon had let on at first.

"Well, you can scrap me off your list," Irewyth said, stretching her limbs with the laziness of an overfed cat. "I haven't been out of bed since you put me here to recover."

"In case you suspect Wheann, he was here for most of the night," Carekon said. "Whoever did it must have noticed the orc before, but stayed quiet about it. The most likely time the traitor could have snuck into the storeroom and taken the knife and the rope without anyone noticing was while the others were celebrating, and already well drunk. That's the only time Bors should have been away from the store room."

Llorrin nodded slowly, trying to imagine himself following the path Carekon was laying out before him. "Makes sense," he said, the cue for Carekon to continue. Instead Irewyth spoke up.

"Whoever tied the rope to the back of the ship and dropped a knife down should have attracted quite a bit of attention if he did it during the day, right? Not to mention someone should've seen the rope if it was left hanging there for hours?" she said. "It must have been done during the night. Someone must have snuck through the guards, or waited for them to leave the deck before making his move."

"No, only the guards on the night shift knew that was going to happen at that time," Llorrin said immediately. "We followed the regular order, it would be too coincidental that one of them happened to be the traitor as well, but it's not impossible that someone managed to sneak past them. We'd put out all the lights, they barely saw me, and can you blame them? Their orders were to keep an eye out for everything outside the ship, not on it…" Llorrin thought aloud. He could ask his crew if anyone had been behaving strangely or disappeared during the festivities, but he was almost certain he'd get a hundred different stories from everyone. No, the men's memories couldn't really be relied on to make his judgement.

"If someone was wily enough to be sneaking around on board, why didn't he just murder you himself?" Eryck asked all of a sudden. Irewyth rolled her eyes ostentatiously.

"Isn't it obvious? He was afraid he could fail, and with good reason," Llorrin said. He made a mental note that Eryck probably wasn't going to be of much use figuring out this mystery.

"I don't think it was Wheann, he simply didn't have enough time to do all that," Carekon said, a sense of urgency to his voice. "He only left my cabin shortly before you stumbled in here. Hence why we were both still awake when you arrived."

Llorrin frowned, wondering why Carekon thought he had to protect Wheann so badly. Something else they'd revealed was nagging at the back of his mind though. "You said Wheann was here with you. Why?"

Irewyth shrugged and gave Eryck a warning glance before he could open his mouth. "He just wanted to talk. He had nowhere else to go," she said in a way Llorrin felt was meant to make him feel guilty.

The whole thing was giving him a headache. It was difficult to make up his mind when he had to be careful of what he said to who, and everything they said could be lies or wrongful interpretations.

"How'd your orc interrogation go?" Irewyth asked when he failed to say anything else, the corners of her mouth curling up ever so slightly. She snuggled the back of her head against the pillow lazily.

"I didn't learn much, and what I did learn from him was disconcerting," Llorrin said with a troubled look, unwilling to give too much away, especially with Eryck present.

"That's really no wonder. You have to gain his respect first," Irewyth said.

"Respect?" Llorrin repeated doubtfully.

"Yes. An orc won't wrong anyone they respect. They may still try to kill you or cross you, but will never do so unfairly."

Eryck laughed derisively. "You're actually saying those bastards have honour?"

"Yes, in fact that is very much what I am saying," Irewyth said, getting up from the bed.

Eryck's smile died away under her stare. "How do you know so much about orcs?"

Irewyth shrugged in a way that made clear she wasn't going to tell.

"Jeredan would have something to say about that," Llorrin said uneasily.

Irewyth put a hand on her hip, giving him a taxing look. "I think you should be less concerned about what Jeredan wants you to think for a change, and pay more attention to what I'm telling you."

Llorrin remembered the strength of the orc, the way he'd grinned even though he was dying, because he'd died thinking he'd fulfilled his mission.

"Suppose you're right," he said, "how am I going to get him to respect me?"

Irewyth shrugged. "I'll leave that one to you."

Though Irewyth didn't give him anything to work with, Llorrin thought he had an idea. As he left the cabin he turned to Eryck.

"What did you to with the body?"

"The body?"

"The corpse of the orc that tried to kill me," Llorrin clarified with an aggravated sigh. Eryck wasn't too bad a fighter, but he was sometimes as thick as a brick.

"Oh. We wanted to throw him into the sea, but Carekon wanted to study the body, so we put him away safely. Cleaned up your cabin while we were at it."

"Carekon hasn't cut up the body or anything already, right?"

"No, he's been too busy taking care of you… and Irewyth," Eryck said with a chuckle.

Llorrin breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Eryck's silly joke. The guy was getting himself into a world of trouble thinking Irewyth would appreciate it if he continued like that, but Llorrin wasn't going to stop him from digging his own grave.

"Go guard the body. Even if Jeredan comes up to you and wants to cut him to pieces for some reason, no one is to touch him, okay?"

"Wasn't I supposed to stay at your side?" Eryck, who seemed at a loss on why Llorrin was so concerned over a corpse, asked.

"Not right now." Llorrin didn't really want to take anyone near Gronbag if he could avoid it. What he'd told them about Jaina had to stay secret for now, or they might not even agree going to Theramore.

Arriving in the brigg, Llorrin was surprised to see Jeredan guarding the cell instead of the expected guards. As he approached the cell he was relieved to see Gronbag was still alive and well. He was less happy to see Gronbag been gagged, obviously much to his displeasure. Gronbag's eyes went to the scars and the eyepatch as soon as he caught wind of him, and some of his anger made way for amusement.

"What's the meaning of this?" Llorrin asked Jeredan.

"I said I was cleaning up your mess, didn't I?" Jeredan said coldly.

"Why'd you have him gagged?" Llorrin said. He had no patience for Jeredan's games.

"I didn't want him putting ideas into anyone's heads. Imagine him telling the guards what he said about Jaina. If they hear, they might not feel so good about going to Tiragarde and meeting her men, considering Jaina delivered her father and his men to the orcs and all that."

Llorrin thought he understood the implied threat. He once again regretted having taken Jeredan to the interrogation.

"Okay, Jeredan what do you want?" he said.

"Don't confront Irewyth with what I told you about her."

That wasn't the answer he had expected. "Why? Are you afraid of her?" Llorrin smirked.

"I'm not afraid of anything," Jeredan growled, crossing his arms, "but that woman is something else. She'll hit you in a way you'll never see coming."

"You already knew that before you chose to tell me of her scheming. Hell, you knew it better than I did."

"I thought I did," Jeredan grumbled.

So he believes she's the one who sent the orc at me, as well, or he wants me to think it's her, Llorrin thought.

"You really like working behind my back, don't you," Llorrin scolded him. "It's almost as if you'd like to take my place."

This time it was Jeredan who caught the hint. He chuckled unpleasantly.

"If I wanted to kill you, kid, I would have simply crushed your skull on the bars of Gronbag's prison here while you were trying to interrogate him, and afterwards told everyone Gronbag did it. It'd be his word against mine," he said with a grin that suggested he'd actually considered doing that.

He's serious, Llorrin realized.

"Listen, I need to talk to Gronbag. Alone," Llorrin said. "You just go clean up some more of my 'mess', or something." Jeredan hesitated, but then seemed to recall how little fun the first interrogation had been, and left, albeit slowly.

Llorrin watched Jeredan's back until he was out of sight. The warrior didn't close the door properly, so Llorrin had to go and do it in his stead, mumbling curses. His heartbeat rose as he returned to the cell, but he didn't hesitate to enter. Llorrin quickly undid the gag, feeling his heartbeat pounding against his ears. The orc was too thoroughly shackled to pose a threat to him, but it wasn't getting mauled Llorrin was worried over.

"I'll have to apologize for that. He likes to work behind my back," Llorrin said, mentally scolding himself for admitting it right after he was done speaking. If he said his men didn't respect him, why should Gronbag?

As expected, Gronbag wasn't too impressed. "Lost an eye somewhere?" he said with a crooked grin.

"Almost. I got close to becoming the next chieftain to the Bleeding Hollow clan there for a minute," Llorrin said, evoking a snicker from the orc. Llorrin crouched down in front of Gronbag and looked him in the eyes.

"One of your warriors did this," he said, tracing the scar below his eye with his finger before tapping the eyepatch. "He clung to the ship after the storm and climbed aboard yesterday night while the deck was empty. He burst into my cabin and tried to kill me, but I fought him off."

"And you're trying to brag to me about that? The poor bastard must have been half-dead and frozen already," Gronbag said sceptically.

"No. Actually, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to give him a proper burial."

Llorrin let those words sink in for a while. Gronbag looked at him suspiciously, like he was expecting Llorrin to pull his leg.

"You mean you haven't thrown him into the sea yet?" Gronbag asked.

"No, but since he was one of your men, I thought you'd want to speak some words, and give him to the sea yourself. Of course, if you don't want to…" Llorrin said, slowly rising to his feet.

"Wait. I'll do it. I just thought you'd be too afraid to let me out of this cell."

"Well, it's not like you have a lot of places you can go to, and I don't suppose you're planning to sail this ship all by your own either," Llorrin shrugged matter-of-factly.

Gronbag realized Llorrin wasn't mocking him and grinned, but only briefly, like he still wasn't sure if he should trust the young captain before him. Llorrin got up and moved out of the cell. He didn't put the gag back.

"We'll get those chains off of you too, for the occasion. I trust you're not going to botch your comrade's funeral just to kill a few of us. Be ready in a few hours."

"I will be," Gronbag promised with a nod as Llorrin turned away.

He realized he couldn't leave Gronbag unguarded, so he sent for Flynt to guard the orcish captain. It was a lowly task for someone who should be considered his right hand man, but Flynt carried more authority than the others, at least in name. He hoped it'd be enough to hold off Jeredan if he returned and tried to do something to the orc. Llorrin had to make some preparations, and it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if Jeredan ruined his entire plan right when he wasn't watching. This funeral had to continue properly if Llorrin wanted to have any chance of persuading Gronbag to back up the warlock's and Elduin's story without giving away too much. And then, let's hope what Irewyth said about orcs and honour is true, Llorrin thought, involuntarily thinking about the warlock.

They had cleaned the corpse and hidden his wounds as well as they could. The orc' skin was still wet and pale and already discoloured around his eyes, but at least it he wasn't bleeding so heavily anymore. He lay on a table that would be lifted to allow his body to slide over the side of the ship and into the water. It was very rudimentary, but it was the best they could do. As Carekon had pointed out to him when they had buried the mutineers, this was a frigate, not the Cathedral of Light.

Llorrin looked about the deck nervously as he waited for Flynt and the four marines he'd sent to help him to bring Gronbag aboard. The forced silence on board did little to calm his nerves. He hadn't gone as far as to ask his men to attend the orcish assassin's funeral, but he'd at least asked for them to be quiet. He'd begun to fear he might be losing his men's respect by trying to gain Gronbag's, but it was already too late to turn back. Carekon had ensured him that if he acted nobly, his men would come to admire him for it and in time, his deeds would rub off on them and in time even become known to his enemies. Llorrin wasn't really sure why he should care what his enemies thought about him, but he'd neglected asking.

Jeredan of course, had been against granting Gronbag this privilege. Only after Llorrin had agreed to putting sharpshooters in strategic positions in case Gronbag did try something had the crusader agreed to not boycott the burial, but Jeredan still clearly wasn't happy about it. Irewyth seemed to take great delight in that notion. She'd finally gotten out of bed, and had been smiling mysteriously ever since she'd moved up to the upper deck. Her blinding smile had only grown every time Jeredan had made one of his frustrated comments. She was standing opposite from Llorrin, on the other side of the body, with Carekon at her side. Eryck was nowhere to be seen, but this time Llorrin wasn't ungrateful for it. The young marine's crass comments were the last thing he needed right now.

His heart stopped for a second when Gronbag appeared on the deck, completely free of his shackles. Only when he saw the four heavily armed marines and Flynt emerging from behind him did Llorrin stop holding his breath. Gronbag's escort stayed behind as the orc slowly walked up to the corpse, stopping by his side. He looked at his dead comrade's face for a while before he spoke.

"Zel'guk," he grunted softly. There was a hint of sadness to his grin. "I should've known he'd be the last survivor. Nothing could kill that bastard."

Llorrin wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, so he kept his mouth shut. Gronbag muttered unclearly and rather quietly, but Llorrin didn't really pay attention to his words anyway, thinking of it as a matter personal to the orc captain. After a while his curiosity won it over his respect and he started listening in on Gronbag anyway. What he noticed immediately was that Gronbag's voice as different somehow, but hadn't lost any of its power despite it.

"You fought like a true orc until the end, and your death is nothing to be ashamed of. You were slain by a worthy opponent. I would have arranged for a proper pyremaster to take care of your funeral, or performed what rites I could myself, my brother, but fate wishes it otherwise. Better to cast you into the sea than subject you to whatever these humans could have in store for you. You were at home at sea in life, I trust you will be in death as well. Farewell now, brother," Gronbag said.

Gronbag's muscles bulged as he lifted the table, letting Zel'guk's body slide into the water. The splash he made sent some seawater over the side of the deck which hit Llorrin in the face and eye, the one that wasn't covered by the eye patch. He merely blinked a couple of times to get rid of the irritating feeling, unwilling to take his eyes off of Gronbag as long as he was holding a piece of furniture big and heavy enough to smash his skull with. Instead of killing him, Gronbag dropped down the table on the deck with a hollow thud and turned away. For some reason Llorrin hadn't thought it'd be over this quick. Gronbag and Llorrin shared a look of understanding, and the orc returned to his cell, escorted by Flynt and the same four marines from before. They'd only just gone belowdecks when Llorrin heard an unexpected call from the crow's nest.

"Land in sight!"