Pandaria, during the Blood War
Lorewalker Cho finally tracked her down at Emperor's Omen, standing on the flat top of a large boulder and staring up at the fresco at the end of the road. He stood at the top of the slope and watched her for a moment. Those long, bent legs of hers made it hard for her to assume the traditional sitting stances for meditation that he used, so Jama stood instead. Her three fingered hands were also not suited for the intricate hand gestures favored by some but she made do with a version of one of them, her palms pressed together and her middle fingers steepled.
Still, quiet, and scarred by time and battle, so unlike the restless spirit terrorizing the hozen all those years ago. He wished he had a quill to write that down, but committed it to memory as best he could. A bit of simplifying for the sake of the flow of a story, because he highly doubted the turmoil in Jama ever really settled no matter how quiet she seemed. The very fact she'd come here to meditate spoke volumes.
He looked up at the fresco that rose above them, its three images paneled in jade that she'd helped him get. The first panel depicted the last great Emperor, Shaohao. The second was a scene of war. The final one was the warning from the emperor that came too late: a monstrous figure of the Sha rising amidst flames.
Cho walked down the path toward her. Jama's new animal companion was curled up on a rock not far from hers. A huge, glowing wolf whose fur danced with energy, he was a far cry from the little scruffy wolf who'd accompanied her through Pandaria the first time. The creature lifted his head and studied him, not quite hostile but alert. Jama turned her head to regard him and smiled slightly. "Lorewalker."
"Hello, Jama. It's good to see you again."
Whatever peace she'd been trying to achieve clearly hadn't been enough to ease the sorrow and pain in her dark eyes. She stepped down from the boulder. "Did Liikaa send you?"
"She mentioned you were here. And of course, the storyteller must investigate the return of a great hero!"
"Hero." She seemed to test the word like she didn't know what it meant and glanced away.
Cho sat down in a meditative stance. "She also said your heart was troubled."
"My heart has been taken captive, Lorewalker." She hesitated and then sat down next to him, a move that brought a little tug at his heart because she'd done the exact same thing the first time he'd met her. All they needed was a cave and a tea set.
"Liikaa says your chieftain has been taken captive." When she looked at him sharply, he gave her a patient smile. "This is a story that surely plays a part in the story of the entire world, Jama, I'll find out about it eventually."
"The storyteller has to be alive in order to tell it afterward." Her ears were flat against her head and her sudden distress caught Cho off guard. She shot a desperate look toward the fresco. "I'm not trying to bring war here again, not even the remotest hint, that's why I'm trying to stay hidden..."
"I know that, Jama." Now he wished he did have a cup of tea to help soothe her. "Come now, even a great hero like you can't bring a war here all by yourself!"
"But she might. I'm not sure she can but I don't know for sure." She started to draw back, her voice rising, and stopped when Cho caught one of her hands gently but firmly between two of his, his gold eyes locking with her black ones. She sat down again, her shoulders slumping. "I'm not sure about anything anymore."
"I'd say that's a good thing, my dear friend, because people who are sure about everything tend to be very boring."
That startled a laugh out of her. He released her hand and settled back into a meditative stance as they fell silent. Jama's gaze drifted back to the fresco and she studied it for a long time before she spoke again: "Lorewalker...what would you say honor is?"
"Honor?"
"What would you say is acting dishonorably?"
"That would very much depend on who was acting on it, Jama. And why they were acting on it."
"For love?"
"My friend, any storyteller worth anything could tell you that everything both good and bad can be done for love."
She nodded in acknowledgment of that and fell silent again for a while. With gentle amusement, Cho was again reminded of the first time he'd met her and her claims she wasn't a philosopher.
"Honor is what rides under everything about the Horde," she said softly. "And yet, were we acting with honor when we landed on these shores here, laying claim to a land that wasn't ours?" She pointed at the fresco and shook her head and let out a slow breath through her nostrils. "I've never really known what honor is. I've always looked to others to tell me what it is. To tell me what it is to be Horde. Now, everyone who defined it for me is gone so I have to try and figure it out myself and I don't know the way that they do." She rubbed her hands over her face. "Nothing is certain for me. Everything has shades."
"Shades?"
"Right and wrong. Good and bad. Honorable and dishonorable. Baine...Saurfang...they understand the difference absolutely and I never have." She turned her head to look at him and for all his experience, the look in those fathomless eyes chilled Cho to the bone. "I want him back, Lorewalker. I'm willing to do anything to do it, whether it means giving my own life...or taking the lives of others. I want to wreak havoc on the Horde until they'd be willing to free Baine just for the chance that I would stop the destruction and I could do it. I could make them understand that I'm absolutely serious when I call Baine my 'better half'."
Cho absolutely believed her. The rage and violence in her eyes wasn't the flash of an explosion, it was a fire that had burned slowly down to the core of her and smouldered. He actually had to swallow before he could speak. "But?"
She blinked slowly and a hint of humor crossed her eyes. She sat back. "But." She ran a hand over her mane. "Baine is my better half. A half I might never have found except for him and I'm so very glad to have found that half, Lorewalker."
Oh, he didn't need a quill to remember that quote. He smiled, keeping his eyes steady on hers. "And so?"
"So I'll try to figure out a way to get to him and figure out what honor is to me at the same time." The black look in her eyes had vanished and she looked at Cho with a slow smile. "And you never did define what you think honor is."
Cho just smiled.
Jama laughed outright this time; the rich, smoky laugh that- unbeknownst to her -had been the first thing that had drawn Baine Bloodhoof to her. "Clever, Lorewalker, always so clever."
Later, Jama stood still, fingering the rings that decorated her single horn. Rhaspidy had made them for her as a gift after Garrosh Hellscream's trial. Two rings, one that fit around the base of her horn and one that settled against the backswept curve of it halfway. Each one was set in gold with two bands of jade, Jama's favorite stone, settled in them. Rhaspidy had gone out of her way to find four different colors of jade just for her, something Jama always wanted to point out to people who thought the warlock to be heartless. The larger band against her head held circles of silvery white jade and deep green jade, for Xuen the White Tiger and Yu'lon the Jade Serpent. The second one was made up of bands of black and red jade, for Niuzao the Black Ox and Chi-Ji the Red Crane.
She often touched them when she was thinking and she was letting her thoughts sink deep now.
So, what could a lone tauren champion wielding a Titan enhanced weapon do against the Warchief of the Horde?
Not much.
She had no delusions in regards to that. At this point anything she did would be a drop of water in a pond.
Jama stood and stared at the rock wall in front of her where she'd drawn a line of three large circles. She tapped the one on the right, which was No, then the one on the left, which was Yes, and the one in the middle, which was for possibilities.
She walked several paces away and drew a knife she'd bought from one of the Skyhorn tribe's incomparable weaponsmiths. She loved it. It was perfectly fitted for a tauren's hand and so perfectly balanced for throwing she could set the blade on her finger and it would sit steady. She'd been throwing knives since she was young, long before she'd ever picked up a gun or even a bow.
She had a list in her head. There were three names at the top of that list, two good and one bad.
"Baine." She closed her eyes. For a moment she let the chokehold she'd kept on her emotions fade away, let the anger and terror swirl through her. She was so afraid for him that she felt paralyzed. If she let herself keep wondering what they were doing to him, planning for him, she wouldn't be able to function. So she let it ride, her eyes tightly closed, and slowly shut it down. She used the breathing techniques she'd learned here in Pandaria to calm the tempest in her heart and close it away for the moment.
Baine was at the top of the list but he was the only thing on it that wasn't an option. He was the goal. The question was, what could she do to reach that goal?
Again, not much. She hated that, but there it was. All she knew was she wanted her Baine back. It would be nice if that goal was met along with the permanent deaths of Sylvanas Windrunner and Nathanos Blightcaller, but that wasn't a deal breaker.
So. Options. The two other names on the top of her list she set aside for later consideration.
Jama twirled the knife through her fingers, her gaze focusing on those circles on the wall until they were all she could see, letting her mind sink into cold calculation. The part of her she used to refer to as the Grimtotem part.
Now she wasn't so sure that was right. She thought maybe her upbringing had merely sharpened something that was a part of her nature.
You don't need me to tell you what honor is, Jama. Me or anybody.
She wavered a bit at that memory, that voice she would cheerfully have died for echoing in her head. "But is that true, Baine?" she whispered. "Or have I hidden myself from you? From myself, even?" She forced herself to face something she'd tried to ignore because, she admitted, if Baine ever saw it she was afraid she would lose him: she could do things Baine would never even be willing to consider and she'd be able to sleep at night.
Because what she'd told Cho was true. She could throw a hell of a wrench in even the Horde's war machine if she put her mind to it. She had allies and means to travel she'd gathered over her journeys most people didn't even consider. Sabotage, misdirection, stealth tactics...all of those were what she was most known for on the battlefield and the wonderful thing about those were they were so terribly effective off the battlefield too. A bomb here. A trap there. A seed planted in the right ear. A poison added to the right place. Propaganda aimed in the right direction.
Kill the right person and make sure the body was found mutilated and displayed. And those Blightwagons were surprisingly delicate if you knew just which part to break. It was hard to use them against the Alliance if they were spreading the Blight too early amongst your own troops.
But.
She opened her eyes, her mind settled once again, and focused on the circle on the right. But it would cost lives to do any good. Lots of them. Horde lives would be best. She might be capable of it, but that was a line she wasn't quite willing to cross unless absolutely necessary and she saw no reason for it to be necessary.
Sylvanas Windrunner had no compunctions about doing that at all, which put Jama at a distinct disadvantage if she were actually stupid enough to start that kind of dance with her.
Madness. Out of the question. She flicked the blade resolutely and it buried itself in the center of the circle, quivering. She retrieved it and strode back into place.
The other Horde leaders. Also no. The blade thunked into the circle again. For one thing, that was what Blightcaller was probably expecting her to do. She needed to keep out of sight and on the sidelines. Also, anyone in a position to help her would need to focus on their own people and keeping the Horde together and Jama was in no position whatsoever to help with that anymore. Even Mayla. Especially Mayla, since the Highmountain tauren would probably be under scrutiny along with the rest of the tauren. Jama wished, desperately, that she could reach out to her. Mayla's calm, steady strength and focus would have been a breath of fresh air. But Mayla was walking a knife edge already and Jama refused to do even the slightest thing that would make it harder for her. Mayla needed people like Perith Stormhoof and Hamuul and the tauren tribal leaders that Baine had set into place to hold their people together if anything happened to him.
Oh, Mayla... Sorrow and regret pierced Jama's heart. If only we'd brought you into Horde worthy of you.
Enough. Jama drew her thoughts away. In all honesty, the fate of the Horde was out of her hands. If it had ever been in them at all.
Rowen. Thinking of Mayla made Jama think of Rowen as well and she swallowed hard. She wanted Rowen more than anything right now. She wanted her friend's kindness and comfort even if she had to go to Silithus to get it. She would have given anything to hear that quiet, musical voice advising her and helping her sort through this with that wisdom that came as naturally to her as breathing. Jama's hand wavered. She couldn't make herself plant the knife in the right circle. The worgen was with the Cenarion Circle. Neutral. If Jama was careful she would probably be able to see her without bringing around any trouble. But how could she? Rowen was trying to save the planet, for the Earth Mother's sake. And oh, that was tempting. Focusing on that was what both she and Baine- hell, most of the tauren in general -had been wanting to do before this stupid war. She'd love to focus on it and forget everything else. Too bad she couldn't. She sighed and flicked the knife into the middle circle. If she could reach out to Rowen safely, she would do it if only to talk to her for a while.
Sylvanas. Jama twirled the knife again for a long moment, turning things over in her head before flicking the knife. Sylvanas Windrunner was currently an obstacle standing in between Jama and what she wanted. As far as Jama was concerned that was the only real significance she had. Unfortunately, she was the biggest obstacle and also the one Jama could do nothing about. An assassination attempt would be worse than suicide. She doubted she could have taken down Sylvanas at any point much less now that Jama was wondering if someone was yanking her strings. N'zoth, maybe? It was more than possible. It wouldn't be the first time Sylvanas had been manipulated to the point someone had yanked her feet right out from under her and Varimathras and Putress had been under her command. The knife thunked into the right circle again. Nope. There was too much against her and too little to be gained by focusing on Sylvanas herself.
N'zoth. The bad name amongst the three on top of her list. The knife flew and hit the center of the left circle unerringly. Finding out exactly what was going on with that one and fighting against him any way she could did absolutely no one any harm whatsoever. That was the one and only good thing about fighting the Old Gods. No wondering if it was right or wrong, no wondering who you might be hurting because anyone dedicated to the Old Gods were doomed no matter who won. It was horrible but rather liberating.
Blightcaller. Jama tapped the flat of the blade against her mouth. That was more doable. She was pretty sure she could take him down in a fair fight. If she could get him into a fair fight, which wasn't likely. There was a nice symmetry to setting herself directly against Blightcaller. Dark ranger to dark hunter. You took my lover, bitch, so I'll take yours. It gave her a sense of personal satisfaction and certainly the world be better off without Nathanos Blightcaller in it.
It had the distinct feel of a battle that was meant to be.
Symmetrical. Dramatic. Pointless.
She aimed for the right circle and paused. Focusing on Blightcaller served nothing except her twisted sense of humor and drama. More importantly, it would far from serve Baine while he was in their clutches. Oh, Earth Mother, no. Not in a million years. Blightcaller was the Banshee Queen's dog, no more or less. When someone went after Sylvanas...and someone would...they'd have to get through him to get to her anyway. Still...keeping her ear to the ground in regards to that one probably couldn't hurt. Jama went with her instincts and the knife hit the middle circle dead center. She'd keep him in mind.
But while she was on the subject, Blightcaller was an asset that could be gotten rid of and harm the Warchief but not harm the Horde. Like when they took out Garrosh's war machines and dark shamans during the rebellion. Sylvanas had some similar assets, didn't she? Her dark rangers, for instance. So...go about killing every dark ranger she happened to come across? Jama considered only for a moment before deciding she was okay with that and threw the knife at the left circle.
The Blight? Maybe. Sabotaging the Blightwagons was easy but that could get messy and end in the horrible deaths of not just Forsaken but other races of the Horde as well. But what about a truly practical, widespread way to neutralize it? It might not be worth the time in the long run but she'd poke around. She'd been on every continent in the world, surely there might be a formula or a spell somewhere that could be useful.
Jama had a sudden image of glowing figures with white wings whirling around the Banshee Queen's figure. The val'kyr. She thought of them only for a moment before starting to dismiss the idea. They were hard to kill and even harder to get to. Even as she started to draw a bead on the right circle, one of the names already there seemed to flash in it. Jama froze, tracing an invisible line between the three circles, her mind racing.
Dark rangers. Blightcaller. Sylvanas.
The val'kyr. Memories flashed in rapid succession.
Tyrande Whisperwind, radiating power that chilled Jama to her very core. Tyrande Whisperwind striking down one of the val'kyr accompanying Blightcaller.
Brynja, Jama recalled for no reason she could understand. Her name had been Brynja.
Nathanos Blightcaller staring into the woods as she approached, his normally neutral face twisted into an expression of hatred.
The heavily armored dark ranger. Jama didn't remember her name. Her voice had echoed within her helmet. "Sylvanas has been dealt a heavy blow today with the loss of Brynja."
Why?
Jama opened her eyes and let her hand drop, the knife dangling loosely from her fingers. She echoed the thought out loud: "Why?"
She'd thought nothing of it at the time, assuming she meant that because the val'kyr were the only real way they could make more Forsaken. But that expression on Blightcaller's face...
Jama sat down and started going over everything she knew about the val'kyr. She'd fought a few in Northrend. They were a bitch on the battlefield. You did not, under any circumstances, bring them up around the val'kyr of the Valarjar if you liked your head where it was. They'd served the Lich King's forces and now a bunch of them served Sylvanas and had for quite some time. How many? She wasn't sure.
And how did that come about? she wondered suddenly. Arthas the Lich King was gone but one of the bravest men Jama had ever known had stepped in and taken his place and if he still controlled the rest of the Scourge wouldn't he still have control of the val'kyr too? Were they too powerful? Had Sylvanas enslaved them or did they serve her willingly?
Too many questions with no easy way to get answers. It seemed pointless but her nerves were buzzing. Why were the val'kyr so important to Sylvanas?
She stood up abruptly and threw the knife at the middle circle, into the word she could see in her mind directly below Blightcaller's.
Val'kyr.
Jama nodded slightly. Well, now she had some things to focus on, some paths to follow. She felt less frightened and lost with something to take action on while she watched and waited for an opportunity to get to Baine.
Which brought her to the final name on her list, the last of the top three.
Saurfang. She didn't even need to think it over. The knife hit the left circle. She didn't know what he was doing or what use she could be anymore but she would find him. She'd let him know he had an absolute ally ready to fight at his side as a soldier or even just act as a weapon if that was what was needed.
It appeared she would be relearning the Horde right alongside the man who taught her how to be a part of it in the first place.
Symmetry.