Chapter 4

This new power was something entirely new for Nazkura. No, she thought. Not Nazkura. She has died. I am only Shrike. She felt silly even thinking about renaming herself - feeling reborn after the ritual was done. From this rebirth came an untapped potential within her that she had held back for. Shame, dishonor, immoral actions of the Horde - they all held her back. No more. No longer.

The newly named Shrike and Rhakra wasted no time in beginning their campaign against the Horde. They both agreed that they would have to disrupt operations in the northern part of Darkshore to strike in the south when it was less guarded. They had both hoped that they would be able to ramp up their operations if the Alliance began to assault the area.

Luckily, they were able to pin their guerilla operations steadfastly on the actual Alliance guerillas. The Night Elves were fearsome in this regard, Shrike knew, and they had already begun their own campaign in earnest. Her short few weeks of scouting revealed that supply lines were already being raided, and camps were being attacked. When the Alliance would come in force, she did not know, but she knew that it was going to come soon.

The first camp that Rhakra and Shrike had struck was a small one east of Lor'danel. This area of operations was closest to the Horde-held Shatterspear camps, so it was one of the more unlikely places to be attacked compared to the inner parts of the Darkshore. The camp itself only had a half-dozen warriors and existed more like a brief stop to and from the battlefield.

When the two Orc renegades struck, the very ground shook beneath the camp. The power of two shaman, intrinsically linked, ripping and tearing the ground underneath caused a panic within the camp. The two rushed forward, combining their knowledge and power of the elements into a storm of death and agony. Lightning shot from the sky, lava, and flames burst from the ground, the wind ripped makeshift buildings and tents.

They were a force to be reckoned with; they the powerful, taking revenge for decades of bloodlust. To Shrike, these few moments of wanton destruction didn't matter that these soldiers were similar to her: loyal to a cause that had lied to them. What mattered was that, despite what immoral slaughter they watched, they still enacted in it.

And that was something she could not abide.

No, Shrike thought to herself as she encased a Goblin up into the earth and swallowed her whole. These soldiers saw the innocents die - they helped the regime butcher, maim, rape, and pillage across Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms. They've chosen their side.

By the time they were done, the camp was little more than rubble. The half dozen soldiers that called this occupation zone their home for the campaign were dead and their weapons scattered. Shrike and Rhakra gathered the leftover supplies and retreated back into their cave complex.

It was a resounding success - one that could not have gone better, according to Shrike. She felt an urge to continue her conquest, to ravage her enemies, and show them the true might of a righteous and just power. She practically salivated for it, she -

Shrike took pause in the middle of the passageway. She had felt this before and managed to subdue these feelings of bloodlust; her entire being, her code, her honor relied on not giving in to the beast inside of her, inside of every Orc. Rhakra had unleashed a monster without need to restrain her because he trusted that she would keep herself restrained; she could keep the beast at bay.

For the first time in the weeks of her rebirth, she felt the indignity of losing control.

This power that Shrike now commanded was dark - all power is, she thought to herself. But the more she used it, the more she felt like it, and her inner beast was intrinsically linked. That when Orcs tasted greater power, greater strength to destroy, that is what they did - a base instinct and malevolence. Is this power genuinely linked to the Sibling Spirits? She wondered; they seemed to give it so freely, and yet all she had done is destroy.

Before this, she had to give in to the Siblings' whims and woes and conditions - they helped keep her in check; otherwise, she would lose their boon. That was the way of the shaman, and that was the way she had been taught by her mentors in the Earthen Ring. This new way that Rhakra had given her…

She pushed it out of her mind. Why should she doubt her new mentor? He has done nothing but aid her since the moment they found each other. She had to return the favor to him by using this power to help him free his comrades.

The first, small outpost had only been the beginning. Each successive attack against the Horde only becomes more significant. They kept track of Alliance attacks in the area, following up on their ferocious attacks with the ferocity of their own. The more significant outposts - that with more than a dozen soldiers still left standing - they stood only to kill a few soldiers each. Each soldier dead at these outposts left open a vulnerable spot for the Alliance to push against, once they had arrived.

The smaller outposts, those with a dozen or fewer soldiers after the Alliance raids, were far more vulnerable; Rhakra and Shrike struck at them hard and did not relent. They chose these outposts for their valuable supplies, their weakened status, their lack of real connection to the other outposts. Often times they would strike while the Alliance was raiding other outposts in the area, sapping the strength of the weaker outposts to truly destroy them.

A month went by with these raids in the north. They had sacked four outposts by themselves, killing dozens of Horde soldiers on the frontlines. Over time they saw fewer and fewer races that made their home on Kalimdor, and instead, they were replaced by Forsaken. If Shrike had any doubts about killing the Horde, they were removed by killing them.

As luck would have it, the Night Elves returned in force - Tyrande and Malfurion leading the front against them. Rhakra predicted such a chain of events, though he thought the warfront would have reached the Darkshore far sooner. The Alliance's base of operations landed on the shores north of the Auberdine ruins, reaching far inland at Bashal'aran. The Horde forces were wholly cut off in the north, and the south had trouble maintaining their own logistics from the repeated attacks from the guerillas.

The Horde's network of war camps was beginning to fall, and the pathway to the central prison camp lay open; now was the time to strike.

Shrike and Rhakra needed to act quickly and start chipping away at the camp's defenders; otherwise, if the Alliance made their move first, then their allies might not survive the encounter afterward. They left the caves in the early morning a week after the Alliance made their basecamp was Bashal'aran, just as they started observing increased Alliance raids via their Far Sight.

The two Orcish shaman made their way through the forests of the Darkshore, their Ghost Wolf forms giving them the agility they would not usually have in their original forms. They arrived on the outskirts of the prison camp, keeping to the edge of the woods and searched for the first of the patrols.

Shrike shifted into her true form, beginning to align some rocks that represented their defenses. The defenses grew in the intervening months: earthworks had been elevated, and a six-foot stone wall had been erected. In the first few hours, they saw consistent sentries with a patrol of two going between each of the newly-erected watch-towers. Just below the earth-works was a line of sharpened stakes, protruding outward to deter head-on aggression to the walls. "Things are different," she whispered, scratching her neck. "These fortifications are much more solid. They shall not be assailed by the two of us very easily," she looked to Rhakra, who shifted into his true form.

He overlooked the rocks that Shrike had assembled and then back to the prison camp itself. "They are in a strong position in there, atop those walls," he said to her. "Our goal over the next few days should be to draw them out, kill them a few at a time. That will be our boon, and their defenses will count for far less when we are done."

Shrike scattered the stones. "The Alliance's front line will constantly be moving - our attacks have to be swift and brutal. If we cannot breach the camp before they arrive, then our allies inside will not survive the night." She stood. "Come - the patrols leave from the front gate; let us watch and follow their route before we set up an ambush."

The two shaman sat on the treeline in sight of the front gates for a whole day - recognizing a pattern to the patrols. Despite the warfront being conducted not a few hours away, they managed a patrol of three or four soldiers every three hours around the outskirts of the camp. Most of the patrol was kept in sight of the camp, but there were three spots in which the patrols were not: a watering hole deeper in the woods, a hill that just barely blocked vision from the camp, and a thick area of vegetation that the patrol's plate armor just couldn't wade through.

A part of Shrike just wanted to collapse the walls with an earthquake - it had worked before with the smaller camps, but she reasoned it away; she knew not how the defenses would crumble and if the prisoners would be hurt in the process. No, this camp would fall after releasing the prisoners.

They resolved to attack the patrols counter to their progression - their first ambush needed to be set up near the thick vegetation, just out of sight of the camp, the second ambush just over the hill, and the third at the watering hole. With any luck, all three patrols would remain small before they increased the size of the groups or stopped the patrols altogether.

At the dawn of the next day, Shrike and Rhakra set up. Rhakra's specialty was ranged elemental combat - his ability to fling lava, earth, air, and lightning would strike them from the back after Shrike engaged the patrol from the front along their path. They both positioned themselves, separating, and waited.

It was not long before Shrike heard the clinking of plate armor and the rattling of bones. She peered through the tree - an Orc and two Forsaken. She could see that one of the Forsaken had a crossbow while the Orc had a two-handed ax, and the last Forsaken had a sword and shield. Shrike knew this kind of tactic: the Forsaken Deathguard advanced with his sword and shield with the Orc just behind, and the crossbowman fired from afar. When the Forsaken Deathguard engaged with their foe, the Orc came up and flanked their opponent.

Her opponents came into view, and they stopped - observing the masked person in front of them. They were barely twenty meters in front of each other - merely staring before the Orc called out. "Declare yourself!"

Shrike did not answer; no, she dug her feet into the ground, solidifying her stance. She began to mumble words of power in kalimag, feeling elemental energy begin to swirl around her. It intensified with each second passed.

The crossbowman unlashed his crossbow from his back, leveling it at Shrike. The Deathguard began to march forward, sword and shield in hand with the Orc following a few feet behind bellowing out again. "Declare yourself, or you are our enemy!" He gripped his ax tightly, hostile intent plain.

After the second bellow, she answered - snapping her hand forward. The ground next to her trembled as it formed into a hard earthen spike and was sent flying. The Deathguard braced himself, the Orc pressing a strong hand to steady the shieldman, but it whizzed past them and towards the crossbowman. He moved at the last second, the earthen spike grazing his side and damaging his armor; the movement caused his crossbow to engage, the bolt flying uselessly into the ground.

There was a brief moment of stillness between the patrol and Shrike - as if neither party couldn't believe it. However, the Deathguard and Orc shook themselves from their stupor once Shrike sent another earthen spike hurdling at them. It slammed into the Deathgurd's shield, weighing it down considerably.

The two moved at a consistent pace forward, quickly closing the gap between Shrike and them. Shrike unsheathed one of her twin axes and snapped her free hand out to send another earthen spike at the approaching pair. She hadn't moved yet but braced herself for the charge. As they closed in with less than five meters, the ground beneath them shifted - causing both to stumble and the Deathguard to collapse.

Shrike knew that it was Rhakra's doing; thus, she advanced. She charged, shoulder-checking the Orc and causing him to fall over from his previous instability. She turned towards the rising Deathguard and brought down her ax in a vicious attack on his back. The ax-blade bit into the weaker parts of the plate and only barely bit into the gambeson underneath; thus, she struck twice more before her attention had to shift back to the Orc.

The Orc warrior rose from his place on the ground and gripped his ax in the time that she struck his comrade. Once he managed to get his bearings, his feet dug into the ground and charged at the awaiting Shrike, bringing his two-handed ax down hard on her. His speed and ferocity were a testament to their people, but Shrike managed to deflect the blow and began to evade his follow-up attack from below.

She skirted around to his side, holding out a hand and channeled earthen power; the spell shocked the warrior's exposed ribs and cracked several of them. The warrior howled, balling up a fist and sending it at Shrike's head, which she felt in spades. She moved away from him quickly, but heard a quarrel whirl by her; she had forgotten about the crossbowman.

Shrike took several steps back as the patrol began to regroup and fall in together. The crossbowman reloaded a quarrel and cranked it again, the Orc helped up his Deathguard comrade, and together they formed an arc around Shrike. She backed away from them towards the treeline and stopped. She felt powerful energy collecting behind her and then saw lightning arc from the trees. The lightning hit the crossbowman first, surging towards the Orc and then the Deathguard. The two Forsaken dropped, their corpses charred and burnt while the Orc managed to stay standing despite the powerful attack though he was stunned.

Shrike quickly followed up the lightning with her own attack - she buried her ax into the stunned Orc's skull, killing him as the blade cleaved it in two. Shrike stood there for a long moment, breathing heavily before retrieving her ax. She turned, looking at Rhakra.

"You couldn't have done that sooner?" She said as her chest heaved.

Rhakra came from the trees, hobbling forward. "They weren't close enough," he said, inspecting the crossbowman. He looked at her and chuckled. "You had it well in hand - I did not wish to steal your glory too soon."

Shrike huffed. She rubbed her jaw where the Orc had managed to hit her. "Next time, don't risk me getting wounded - we need to be at full strength to take on the larger portions of his garrison." She sheathed her ax, shifting forms and moved to the next ambush site with Rhakra in tow not a minute after.

Employing their same strategy on the next group yielded similar results - though it was a different set of terrain and a different number of soldiers, Shrike and Rhakra succeeded. The four soldiers they had sent out after the lost patrol consisted solely of Forsaken: two Deathguard and two crossbowmen. The crossbowmen had been more cautious in the next encounter - it had been difficult to draw them in. They managed to score several hits with their quarrels on Nazkura's body, though two had been glancing blows and the third striking her shoulder.

They only closed in once she feigned the severity of her wounds; being from a prison camp, they desired to take their attacker prisoner and interrogate where their last patrol had been. It was only then that Rhakra unleashed hell upon them - striking all four Forsaken with an arc of lightning. Unlike the previous patrol, they all fell - the two Deathguard wounded from Shrike's assault.

Seven soldiers dead from their garrison, yet more than two dozen still remained. They moved to the water hole for the third ambush, which still had several hours from which they would encounter them. Shrike healed her wounds, feeling the blessed water seep into her skin where the quarrel bolts managed to pierce her flesh. The next encounter she'd be slower, for sure.

The watering hole didn't have much in the way of cover, so Shrike and Rhakra were determined to face the next group head-on, together. They waited for hours, Shrike sharpening her axes anxiously as they waited. By the time they showed up, they were several hours late, far past due when they were supposed to move past this area.

The group was nine strong - far more than they expected. They marched in a column, two-by-two, with four deathguard and four crossbowmen. At the head of the column rode one Forsaken on a skeletal steed, clad in beautiful plate armor, and wielding a wicked butcher's sword. "A Dreadguard," Rhakra spat. "He'll be a tough bastard."

Once the patrol saw the two, the Dreadguard waved his hand. The column arrayed themselves, staggering their line of Deathguard with crossbowmen in between. The crossbowmen held up their weapons, aiming directly at Shrike and Rhakra - now merely waiting for a command. The Dreadguard kept a hand up in the air, staring at the two for a long moment. Shrike half expected him to give some form of a villainous monologue, but when his hand fell and the quarrels loosed, she could only react.

Shrike raised an earthen shield around herself, snapping her hands in the air and using some of her elemental power. Two quarrels, however, hit Rhakra in the chest before he could do the same. Rhakra was old and despite his youthful energy, moved slowly while in his true form. He fell to the ground, growling in pain as he raised a shaky hand and unleashed a bolt of lightning.

It didn't arc the last two encounters - the group was too far away, too spaced apart. No, the lightning bolt hit one of the Deathguard, stunning him and causing him to fall to his knees. Shrike moved swiftly as the crossbowmen reloaded, standing between them and Rhakra. The crossbowmen cranked their crossbows and fired again, all four focused on Shrike.

Shrike slammed her foot down into the earth; the earth responded in kind, heaving up around her to block the incoming quarrels. She began to chant words of power, widening her stand and balling her fists before striking at the earth. Holes in her earthen wall appeared as she hardened dirt and turned them into spikes, rapidly sending them at the enemy. They were small spikes, but numerous - hundreds of small, sharp rocks and hardened dirt hit the Forsaken line. The Deathguard were mostly safe, being clad in plate armor and able to raise their shields, but the crossbowmen had no such protection being clad in padded cloth.

Shrike's attack was consistent; so long as she had energy and earth around her, she could pelt her attackers with a rain of earth. The Dreadguard wheeled around his horse, shouting at his soldiers to tighten and form a shield wall. He leaped off his horse and joined it, raising his shield and protected what was left of his crossbowmen. Once they were assembled together, they slowly began to push forward.

"They're coming," Shrike said, looking down at Rhakra. "Are you ready, old one?" She saw Rhakra struggle to get up, leaning on a branch that he had found just within grasping distance. He nodded, touching his chest - black blood covered his hands.

He began to mumble words of power, his eyes turning white as his words in kalimag carried with them elemental weight. He cast his gaze up to the sky, trembling with natural power. Despite this, Shrike could hear his voice failing him - he was too wounded to do this alone. She quickly took his side, ceasing her attack.

Shrike began to channel elemental energy, her own crimson gaze turning pure white. She gripped Rhakra's hand tightly, looking up as the clouds turned dark and thunder began to roll across the sky. The Dreadguard and his soldiers moved in, breaking formation to charge just thirty meters away.

At the last moment, together, they called the lightning - it crashed down with such a violent boom it caused Rhakra and Shrike to blast back into the water. Shrike felt an electrical shock jolt through her body, but she managed to stay conscious. She swam to the surface, breaking it and saw their damage: there was a small crater where the Forsaken had been. The centermost Forsaken had disintegrated entirely, turning to dust when the massive spike of elemental energy hit them. The soldiers on the wings died just as instantly, being flung off to the sides.

Such a large, powerful spell took a toll on both shaman. Shrike herself was weary, and Rhakra had been critically wounded. She managed to find the old Orc, dragging him from the watering hole and into the forests before Forsaken reinforcements arrived; they would not be able to fight again today.

She found an outcropping of dense trees, covering their sight and beginning to heal Rhakra's wounds. She pulled the protruding quarrels from his chest and felt a surge of black blood as she spilled water on his chest. The words of power enchanted the waters, sealing the wounds before they had become fatal. Rhakra, for at least a week, would not be able to fight.

Shrike left him behind in their new hideout to rest as she moved to scout the prison camp. It had been two hours since calling that lightning storm, and now the camp was abuzz with activity. All hands were on alert now that sixteen of their comrades were dead; more than half of Shrike's projected number of defenders.

She closed her eyes, mumbling more words of power in her weakened state. She cast a lesser Far Sight, anchoring her vision to the most massive object in the area, focusing her sight on the camp. A commander there had been shouting orders in Gutterspeak, desperate to create some semblance of order. She was satisfied; their next few attacks would surely see them fall.

Yet she felt another presence in the distance - one of significant elemental energy. No, it was not just one… it was two. She focused her sight on the horizon and saw two wyverns; a Troll and a Tauren atop them. Shaman? She thought to herself. And yet from the clouds, more came riding on the wind: ten bat riders, all Forsaken, just behind them. She recognized two of the riders immediately: one of the Forsaken was missing a jaw and the other's scarred feminine face she would not forget.

Velariene has come with her Coterie, Shrike thought, ending the spell and retreating into the woods. She has come, finally, for us.

Let her come.