The first two days of sailing the orcs spent getting their bearings. Very few, if any, of them had experience sailing a ship. Saurfang was no seafarer either, but he knew more about it than the rest of the orcs on the ship. He'd given out some initial instructions before noticing the elf watching, not necessarily in amusement, but she had a look about her that suggested she was withholding some…advice.

The sun was hot, and she wore no coat or shirt, only a leather vest. He noted the strength in her arms as they were crossed in front of her. Of course, he'd seen them before, but that was at the creek when she was… Saurfang cleared his throat and strode toward her, casting aside whatever he might have been about to ponder.

"Have much nautical experience?" He asked her a little gruffly. She glanced up at him, nodding.

"I do."

"Would you be willing to lend some instruction? Much of this rigging is unfamiliar to me." He folded his own massive arms watching various orcs looking confused but trying to work the lines for the sails.

"Will they actually listen to me?" She flashed a grin, watching the same thing he was.

"They will if I tell them to."

It was difficult for Saurfang to take his eyes off Gylledra as she effortlessly scaled the rigging and delivered instructions in clear orcish. She led with the ease of a natural born leader and in such a way that those she commanded paid attention and followed directions. At every turn she defied expectation and had not ceased to surprise him. Perhaps there was a reason she was among them now; though he didn't care for the idea of fate. It was not a concept he could accept because it meant all their people suffering in those filthy camps for all those years, all the horrors he'd witnessed…had been meant to be.

Something was happening, though, as Gylledra worked with the orcs, the way she spoke to them as equals, and how she accepted suggestions and ideas when they gave them, answering questions without belittling or making anyone feel foolish. He saw more than one orc nod to another in approval. She'd already helped them by ensuring safe passage to the ships and now she showed them how best to pilot the vessel they'd absconded with. Gylledra was even able to teleport herself to the ships nearby to assist them as well.

Saurfang was impressed, and he felt good about the decision to bring Gylledra and her strange companion to Thrall. Though she was a caster, her magic didn't require any sacrifice of life, and while the orcs, Saurfang included, had a strong mistrust for magic, hers did not seem as much cause for concern.

Interestingly as well, the orc who had challenged Gylledra to fight seemed to have become quite friendly with her. Saurfang saw them speaking together frequently. It made sense, a sense of honor often bound individuals in friendship.

The initial rocky days of the voyage had become smoother and easier sailing. The skies were clear, and the winds were strong. Saurfang had claimed for himself the quarters that would have been for the ship's captain. The ceilings were a bit low, considering how small humans were, but it was comfortable enough. The captain's quarters were comprised of a main room with a nautical map inlaid on a large wooden table, a library with a desk, a privy closet even a small orc wouldn't fit in, and a bed chamber. In the interest of keeping Gylledra and Nasorya out of trouble, he offered them the bed chamber. He was content to sleep on the floor of the library after shoving the desk out of the way.

It did not take long for diversions to run out. There were very few things on a ship to keep the mind occupied and Saurfang found his thoughts turning too often to the elf. She didn't care for the intensity of the sun on deck and had mostly been in the captain's quarters going through whatever books she found in the office-library.

He blamed the close quarters and the novelty of her uniqueness for his unwanted preoccupation. There were much more important, much bigger things to focus on, such as the voyage, and what they would do at the end of it.

"Are you coming in or just going to leer through the door from the dark corridor?" Gylledra asked without looking up from the book. Caught red handed, so to speak, Saurfang set his jaw and stepped into the room. She didn't glance up at him until he pulled out a chair and sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"It is no wonder there are tales or orcs succumbing to madness at sea." He grumbled.

"It's my understanding that many have found at least one thing to do below decks to pass the time." She looked back down at the book, but he saw the smile on her lips. He let his eyes linger there for a beat too long before staring sullenly across the room. It was better not to think about what the orcs were doing below decks. Lulls in conflict were how they grew their population, after all.

"Where is your little horned friend?" He asked her. Gylledra looked up, one brow arched. She didn't even have to say it. "Hmph."

"Nasorya and I don't share the same hobbies, obviously." She told him, turning a page. Saurfang wondered why she thought that was worth noting. There were several other books piled on the table. She'd been marking pages and cross-referencing between books it appeared. He gave a sigh and then reached for one of the books she wasn't using, opening its cover. Maybe human writers had something interesting to say, or at the very least, distracting.

.

Gylledra had been on long sea voyages before, and when prepared for, they were not so terrible. There had been no chance to make such preparations for this one, of course, and so she was forced to find entertainment amidst what was available. Nasorya, below decks, had taken full advantage of just how bored everyone would be, between her penchant for gambling games and her other favorite activity, she would not be at a loss for diversion.

Not being disposed toward indiscriminate sexual activity, Gylledra had turned to the captain's books. To the human's credit, he had a lot of them, and they were of a broad variety as well. Though she'd heard some of the things humans had done regarding the orcs, which made her somewhat inclined to dislike them, but she'd also heard what the orcs had done. True, it was under the influence of demon blood, but no one was excusing them for that, not even the orcs themselves. No one's hands were clean and though there was obvious bitter hatred between the two peoples, each side knew none of them was truly innocent.

It was the sixth or seventh night out on the water and Gylledra and Nasorya lay side by side in the captain's bed as moonlight streamed through the windows. The sea felt calm and the ship rose and fell gently, almost soothingly. The ship itself creaked, but the sound was so constant it was no longer even noticeable.

"I half expected you to spend another night below." Gylledra murmured with a small laugh.

"I couldn't leave you up here alone with that curmudgeon again." Nasorya grinned, turning on her side to face her.

"I presume your activities have been sufficiently entertaining?"

"There are so many things I've been showing them." Nasorya flopped onto her back, holding out her index finger, poised to begin reciting a list but Gylledra took her hand and gently pushed it down again, giving it a light pat.

"I'm sure I can guess, Nas." She told her, but still smiled. "I'm just glad you're not bored. We get in trouble when you're bored." Nasorya conceded with a nod, she couldn't argue that point.

"You know, Gyllie, this would be the perfect time for you to have some fun."

"If I need that kind of fun, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of it myself."

"You sit in here reading books all day, stuck talking to Varok Saur-puss." She poked Gylledra in the side at a particularly sensitive spot so she squirmed a little.

"I don't mind talking with him." She replied. "And don't you ever call him that when he's within earshot."

"Now I want to."

"Don't you dare."

"Fine!" Nasorya gave an exasperated sigh, then as only she could, switched conversation gears so abruptly it was jarring. "Are you unhappy, Gyll?" The question was unexpected and Gylledra looked over at her, blinking and still turning the sharp topic turn.

"No, of course I'm not." She replied. "I mean…none of us exists in a state of pure bliss, but I am not rife with despair."

"Very well." Nasorya nestled a little closer, taking the long strands of Gylledra's hair, braiding them intricately. No, Gylledra thought, she didn't mind at all talking with Saurfang. True, he came off initially as quite serious, but she'd uncovered a dry wit with what she thought was a glorious bite of sarcasm. That wasn't all she didn't mind…looking at him was not unpleasant either, watching as he strode across the decks, the sun on his skin. She didn't even realize she was smiling at the thought. Nasorya's knowing eyes were on her, though. "He watches you, too, you know."

"I don't know what you mean." Gylledra fibbed, unconvincingly.

Nasorya gave a snort. "No use in feigning denial. I'm not all silliness, you know, I see a great deal, and I know what I've seen ever since you had that axe at your throat."

"I know you see much, and they've all underestimated you, as they always do. But if they knew that you're far more dangerous than I am, they wouldn't be so friendly." Gylledra grinned, hoping maybe to derail the direction of the discussion.

"I don't know about more dangerous." Nasorya shook her head. "Be careful, though. You're decrepit, but your heart is still new."

"Decrepit!" Gylledra scoffed. "You are what, twice my age?"

"At least, but by my standards, that's still quite young." Her strange, beloved friend made an incredibly immature face before blowing an obnoxious raspberry. Gylledra responded by digging her fingers into Nasorya's ribs, eliciting the contagious giggle she knew she'd get.

"You don't have to worry about me, Nas." She said once they'd quieted again. "Close quarters on a ship addle brains in all manner of ways."

"So, you're lying to yourself as well as me now. Interesting. That's new for you."

As the days dragged on, Gylledra had been putting a lot of time and effort into convincing herself of all the reasons she should be thinking about anyone and anything besides Varok Saurfang. Naturally, the more she tried to distract herself from him, the more difficult it became not to watch him every moment that she thought he couldn't see her.

The bed as well as the table was littered with more books from the library as desperation for diversion intensified. To the captain's credit, his collection ranged from poetry and stories to history and sailing techniques.

There was only so much reading she could do though. The weather had been stable and clear with steady wind, which meant there was little even for Saurfang to oversee. He was trying to keep his boredom buried while they both avoided interacting too much with one another.

He was seated at the table, his feet up, when Gylledra entered the cabin. Above him, several knives and daggers were deeply imbedded into the wood ceiling. She wondered where he'd found them all, only a couple were orcish.

"Why not make targets and throw them instead?" She suggested. Saurfang's brows arched.

"I hadn't thought of that." He put his feet down and rose at once, plucking the knives from the ceiling. Gylledra Rifled through the desk for paper which she then drew target circles on. Crossing the room, she put it up to the wall and pinned it to the wall with a letter opener.

"There should probably be some sort of ruleset." She told him, looking at the target for a moment. "Let's see…" She took up the pen and scribbled a 10 on the smallest circle, 5 on the middle, and 1 on the outside.

"Some brew would make it interesting." Saurfang rubbed his chin. "If there was any below deck, it's certainly gone by now."

"There is a small cask in the cupboard in the office, it sloshed when I moved it. So I assume it is some sort of beverage." Gylledra turned to look at the enormous orc. "If it is drink, it should be good, considering all the trouble he went through to lock it up and hide it away." Saurfang went to the library alcove and pointed downward.

"This one?" He asked.

"Yes, but it's…" She watched as he gave it a kick, the cupboard door breaking in half. "…locked." He yanked off the broken door and pulled out the cask, shaking it and listening for the slosh to be certain. He gave a nod of confirmation before setting it on the table and looking for its cork. "Here." Gylledra pulled a spout from the desk drawer and set the cask on its side before magically popping out the side cork and shoving in the spout.

"Perfect." He rumbled, then glanced around again before yanking open a number of other cupboard doors amongst the shelves. He found two mugs and she took one, turning the spout and letting the deep, amber colored liquid pour into her cup.

"Smells good." She held it to her nose, inhaling deeply. "Smells a little sweet." Saurfang just watched her, waiting for her to taste it first. She took a sip. "Mmm!" Then a larger sip, before the potency of the liquor hit her and she coughed. "Oh…it's strong as well…"

"Good, must be dwarven. We don't need any of that horse piss ale humans brew." He wrinkled his nose before pouring some for himself and testing it, nodding approvingly. "Good."

"Alright, so, we have our game. Target, knives…what does the brew add to this?" She asked him and he looked surprised, a smile full of mischief spreading across his green face.

"You've never played a drinking game?"

"I didn't realize drinking could be a game." She shrugged. Perhaps drinking games were why Nasorya was so fond of wine and brew. All things considered, she felt like this was something she should have known.

"Alright, if I hit the center target, you take a drink." He explained. "If I miss, then I drink."

"Seems simple enough. You go first." She gestured toward the target and without even looking at it, Saurfang whipped a knife across the room and it hit dead center. Gylledra sighed and took a drink. "Perhaps something more challenging would have been better."

"Hm." He took up the pen and went to the target, yanking out the knife, then drew a much smaller circle. "There. Points as follows: one, five, ten, and drink."

"Better." She agreed.

Neither of them missed the drink circle for the first few throws, of course. They were both seasoned warriors, it was doubtful that even into the initial stages of inebriation, either of them would miss. They'd essentially come up with a way to drink their faces off without merely sitting down to do so.

The liquor was definitely beginning to take effect as Gylledra bounced the handle of a larger knife off the target.

"Oh, no…" A giggle escaped her and Saurfang smirked as she took another drink. "You know, no matter how good either of us is, I will get drunk far more quickly. I am much smaller than you!"

"Oh, you don't say…" he feigned surprise.

"Bah. Treacherous orc." She muttered, but gave another laugh. When he hit the target dead on once more, Gylledra took a much smaller sip, narrowing her eyes at him. She pulled her knife out of the target and tossed it back down on the table, watching Saurfang's hands as he selected his next projectile. His long, thick fingers wrapped around the handle before he positioned it to throw. "Your hands are quite nice." She murmured just as the blade left his grip. It imbedded firmly in the middle of the outside 1 circle. She clapped a hand over her mouth as her ears grew hot; she hadn't meant to say that aloud…or at all…

"Distracting is against the rules." He told her, drinking from his cup.

"I didn't mean to!" Gylledra protested, but the amused, lopsided smile on her face said otherwise, even though she was being truthful. She stopped suddenly. "How is that even a distraction?"

He said nothing and retrieved the knife, moving out of the way so she could take her turn. She hit the target dead on, and he drank again. Gylledra's intoxication was increasing, the tip of her nose felt numb and she poked at it, amused as well as concerned.

"At this rate, we'll finish off the whole cask." Saurfang mused.

"And then what?" She laughed. "I suppose I will pass out, and you, with your enormous orcish constitution will be bored. Or I suppose you might retire below decks to partake in their merriment." The words fell from her mouth unbidden and internally, she was horror struck but there seemed no helping it.

"Hardly." He scoffed, throwing his knife. She drank.

"No? I cannot see why not. Look at you. Surely the females must throw themselves in your path." Her speech had become slightly slurred and she gestured vaguely at him.

"I cannot tell if you're mocking or complimenting me." Came his wry, and perhaps somewhat wary response.

"No, I meant it. I've gotten a fairly good look at a lot of orcs in the last couple weeks." Her mouth continued, despite the very far away shred of her self-control screaming internally. "Of the males, I'd say you're preferable over the others, gauging by whatever strange lens my elven sense of aesthetic filters you through. I don't know." She drained her cup even though Saurfang hadn't taken a turn yet. "I guess maybe that's untrue…I haven't really looked much at the others." He stared at her, saying nothing, but looking as though he might take her cup away.

"You're drunk." He commented.

"S-so are you, Sa…Sarr…Sor…Saur…would it be alright if I just call you Varok?" She slurred, struggling with the S's for some reason. A little bit of amusement danced in his amber eyes, but he nodded.

"Yes, you may call me that." He told her. She smiled, pleased. Varok, Varok, Varok…she thought silently to herself.

"Okay, good." Gylledra sat down on one of the chairs, but took a knife and threw it at the target, missing the paper entirely. "Damn it." She drank. "Nas has been encouraging me…well, she always has…for…centuries…millennia…been encouraging me to partake in the…p-pleasures of the flesh. But I never take lovers." She looked into her mug. Varok sat down in another chair to her right, facing her caddy-corner. "Do you…do you ever…?" She didn't finish the sentence, looking up at him. He blinked slowly, the only thing giving away the fact that he, too, was well within his cup.

"Do I ever what?"

"You know…have the urge to…and…have…lovers?" The screaming voice of logic deep inside her seemed to have given up, or it was interested too, she didn't know. He shook his head.

"No." He didn't elaborate.

"Oh." She murmured before taking another sip from her mug. "Too bad, I suppose." Gylledra cheeks were burning hot, but she had no idea if it was because of the brew, or what undoubtedly, if sober, would have been crippling embarrassment. His eyes widened a little. "Nasorya said this voyage would have been the perfect opportunity, but…" She shook her head. "I'd only consider it…if it was you." Varok looked away, his ears had almost turned purple and a smile that could have been only described as perhaps a little bashful, crept onto his face.

"I would not be a suitable lover." He replied, his voice low. She took a long draught from her mug before setting it on the table.

"Ah, well I had figured elves would not be sufficiently pleasing to an orc's aesthetic…tastes." She said, feeling unexpectedly disappointed.

"What? No…that's not…" Varok frowned, shaking his head.

"It's a-alright, I certainly won't hold it against y-you if you don't like me, I've been a nuisance since you found me, I understand…" She stood up, quite wobbly on her feet.

"That isn't it, Gylledra…" He looked to be at a loss, and something occurred to her that hadn't before. He was quite a bit older than many of the other orcs.

"Oh…can you no longer perform?" She looked down at his groin questioningly.

"What…?!" Horror struck his face in a nearly comical fashion as Varok surged to his feet. "Of course I can…!" He grabbed her by the waist, lifting her effortlessly to deposit onto the table. She grabbed the front of his vest as he stood between her knees and leaned down close, inhaling her scent. Gylledra let out a shuddering breath, her heart suddenly pounding. His mouth was very close to hers and she hung onto his shoulders as he leaned her back. "I am whole, still." She'd thought about him, wondered how he'd feel beneath her fingertips, how his lips might feel against her own, even though she'd pretended not to think of him at all, she'd begun to feel desire.

The intensity of his piercing amber gaze seemed scorching, and it was as though he could see inside her. She wondered what he might see if he could. In a small surge of intoxication-fueled confidence, Gylledra closed the small gap between them, pressing her mouth lightly to his. Varok's response was immediate, he kissed her hard, his tongue sliding past her lips to stroke hers. Liquid fire pooled at her core and Varok held her against him with one arm, the other he supported himself with on the tabletop. She could feel the hard ridge pressing against her through the leather of his leggings and hers. His hips moved just once, and a quiet moan escaped her. Quickly, he pulled back, his forehead pressed to hers.

"Gylledra, I…"

"I'm wet…" She panted and Varok's eyes popped wide open, round as saucers as he stared at her. "My cup, it turned over, I've sat in spilt brew…"

"Oh…OH." He cleared his throat. "I…my apologies…" Gylledra glanced down, grabbing the cup and righting it, the puddle still under her backside. "We should not continue. You have had too much to drink, and so have I."

"You're probably right." She whispered, but took his face between her hands. "But I…I had forgotten how it felt to be kissed."

"So did I." The way Varok looked at her sent a strange shiver through Gylledra which was not altogether unpleasant.

"Varok…" She leaned a little closer again, her lips barely brushing his. "…before I lose the nerve to ask, will you kiss me again?"

"Yes."

Distantly, in what seemed like a very faraway place, there were loud noises, and Gylledra, still in the ignorant bliss of a drink-induced semiconscious state, wanted very much to hunker down and go back to sleep. But there was a powerful lurch and her eyes fluttered open. The lanterns were swinging, casting abrupt, nauseating shadows about the room. The large, firm thing she was tucked snugly beside inhaled then exhaled a deep breath and her eyes widened. The sudden crash of thunder made her jump and there was the lurch again…the ship being tossed around in the water. A storm…rain and waves hammered the windows, the furniture not nailed down was strewn about the cabin.

"Varok…wake up." She shook the enormous, slumbering orc who responded by grabbing her by the backside and pulling her tightly against him, murmuring incoherently.

"…you've got…good heft…"

"Good heft?!" She blinked, still quite drunk. She tried freeing herself from his grasp and there was a loud crash as Nasorya burst through the main cabin door mid-pitch of the ship and was thrown to the floor. She blinked, shaking it off and looked through the bedroom doorway, her eyes growing very wide at Gylledra struggling like a rabbit in a bear trap to get out of Varok's vicelike grip. She wouldn't use magic on him, she'd found that generally, people didn't like that.

"Storm! It's a bad one!" She cried, scrambling to her feet.

"You don't say?!" Gylledra snapped. "Varok! Damn it…WAKE UP!" She had one arm free and reached up, slapping him hard in the face.

He snarled and sprang into a seated position, looking wildly around. Free, Gylledra leapt from the bed and immediately landed face first on the floor, where she was tempted to remain.

"Fuck the dwarves and their brew…" She groaned as Nasorya yanked her to her feet.

"I'm in the bed…?" Varok asked and rubbed his face with one hand as he got up.

"Because that's what's important right now!" Nasorya barked impatiently, but then halted. "Wait, why are you in the bed?"

"NAS!" Gylledra made a frustrated sound

"Really Gyll? Completely smashed and still fully clothed?"

"Shut up, Nas." Her stomach kept doing barrel rolls. Appropriate, she thought, glancing across the room at the tapped barrel as it rolled by, thumping rhythmically every time it hit the spout.

"I always wondered when I'd catch you in bed with someone, though I didn't expect you to be dressed…" The ship lurched, interrupting Nasorya's commentary. Gylledra was on her hands and knees again, and a bucket conveniently rolled by, most likely placed in the room by her drunker self or more likely it was Varok, he was far less effected by the drink. She grabbed it, pushing her unbound hair back with enough time to wonder why it was unbound, and then retched, silently swearing off drinking ever again.

Varok, apparently in full possession of all his faculties and suffering from none of the ill effects plaguing Gylledra, was strapping on the various pieces of his armor, and with surprisingly good balance. Gylledra dug deep, mind over matter, this was no time to be sick…or drunk. She pushed herself up, getting to her feet and grabbed her coat, pulling it on without bothering to tuck in her shirt.

"I will see what I can do, hopefully the other ships haven't been blown too far from us." She told them, heading for the door.

"You sobered rather abruptly." Varok narrowed his eyes at her.

"No, I have not." She muttered unhappily.

.

Saurfang followed Gylledra out the cabin door, indeed his head was pounding and his stomach roiling, but through sheer willpower he ignored it. As he stepped onto the main deck he was slammed in the face with wind and rain, squinting to see the state of things. Most everyone was below deck, but there was a handful of orcs manning the rigging and the wheel. The ship had taken some damage, though.

Gylledra made her way to the back of the ship hopping over debris and dodging frantic orcs with a catlike grace she should not have been able to achieve in her present state. Lightning flashed as she stood at the back rail, hair whipping in the wind. Even from where Saurfang was, he could see the horror on her face and she darted toward him again.

"It's the maelstrom!" She shouted, and the note of panic in her voice sent a chill through him.

"What?" He didn't know what she meant and she grabbed the front of his armor, pulling him downward, her mouth close to his ear so he'd hear her.

"The maelstrom, it's a swirling vortex of death for the most part that we do not want to get sucked into. If we survive this, I will tell you all about it." She let go, climbing back up to the highest deck and as he followed, reaching that level, she put her arms out, a shockwave of arcane power emanated from her and with a shudder, the ship grew still. He found he could only move with great difficulty, as though his feet were impossibly heavy. Glancing back, he saw that it was the same for the rest of the orcs on the deck who appeared torn between new panic at being unable to move, and relief that the likelihood of being washed overboard was now greatly reduced.

Gylledra's eyes were glowing bright, much brighter than their usual nighttime luminescence and as the lightning struck around them, Saurfang saw it, the impossibly huge swirling whirlpool. In the distance and around them he could see other ships, curiously still as the sea churned. The sea, the clouds, maybe even the world itself turned around the horrifying vortex.

The arcane markings on Gylledra's skin flashed as shapes and sigils circled her hands. Ribbons of bright power appeared, stretching out and wrapping around the ship itself and from where he stood, he saw the same thing happening to at least four other ships. The wood of the ship creaked as it rose from the raging sea. A ragged cry tore from her throat as she raised them and pulled the ships back from the edge of the maelstrom.

Saurfang, despite knowing there was nothing he could do to assist her, tugged at his feet, frustrated, but she held everyone in place. Gylledra looked from side to side, her arms still out, but she was breathing heavily. Even for a powerful mage, such a feat did not come easy.

He called to her, but his voice was lost in the sound of the storm. She changed suddenly, her markings turning dark as she invoked the Void. Tendrils of the shadow swirled around her until her eyes had turned black. The arcane ribbons holding the ships aloft were then wrapped in helixes of void, stabilizing the power further. She dropped her arms, but the magic stayed in place, she did not need gestures to maintain her power.

Gylledra planted her feet and reached downward with her hands, drawing them upward, as though pulling something from below. She was speaking a language Saurfang and likely no one in the world at that time had ever heard. It was a vicious, demanding sound…he realized then that she was giving commands.

"Ifis gaz iilth ma, Etzanel!" She cried out. She repeated the gesture again and this time there was a purple glow that seemed to light the entire sea around them, but even through the violent water, Saurfang could see a shadow…something huge, something so big it should not have been moving the way it was.

The orcs had never seen this kind of power…they had seen necromancy and the infectious, destructive force of the Fel, but nothing like this. Her magic was not costing them or anything else their lives, there was no blood price for this power, none but whatever Gylledra had paid already.

Some…thing almost the size of a mountain broke the surface of the water, rising up, sending a ripple that doused all the ships with seawater. The being was made of black, blue, and purple shadow; lightning struck and branched within it. There were bright, glowing eyes, but no other facial features to speak of. It didn't belong in Azeroth, and it didn't appear happy to have been dragged out of whatever void cave it lived in, gauging by the vicious, piercing roar it gave in Gylledra's direction.

"Thyzak y'za skuq!" Over the roar of the sea, her voice and ongoing commands carried more than what was natural, and the void creature raised one pair of arms, and then another. Reaching out with all arms, it plucked up one ship and then the next, moving through the sea, unaffected by the storm and setting the ships far out away from the maelstrom's pull as though they were mere toys. There had been more ships than Saurfang had been able to see and once all but theirs were moved to relative safety, Gylledra reached one hand high above her head and the being mirrored her movement. The storm clouds that swirled with the vortex drew in toward the creature's hand, the darkest of the clouds gathering in its grip. Slowly, her arm lowered, and so too did the creature's, the very storm itself following the colossal hand, which deposited them into the maelstrom.

At once, the sea calmed significantly, daylight visible through the harmless overcast clouds that remained. Even the wind had calmed to a safer speed. The creature's last act was to grab Saurfang's ship and set it out with the others. Both shadow and arcane dissipated and Gylledra put her arms down, and as she did, the void being dissolved, blowing away like smoke in a breeze, banished back to wherever it had come from.

Cheering could be heard across the water from all the ships but Gylledra collapsed. Saurfang went at once to her side, followed by others and Nasorya who came hurtling out of the door that led below deck. Gylledra's black eyes stared upward as though dead. He checked that she was still breathing and he was relieved that she was. Her markings were still dark and he found he was at a loss. None there wielded the sort of power undoubtedly needed to bring her out; Thrall was a powerful shaman, but he was on another ship, which did them no good.

"Gylledra." Saurfang called. He took her hand, but there was no response.

"Gyllie!" Nasorya grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her almost violently.

"What's happened?" He demanded.

"I don't know, she's never done this…Gylledra!" Nasorya's panic was alarming.

"Can you help her?"

"I am no mage or healer!" She ran her hands back through her hair, wracking her brain for some kind of answer. Saurfang would have taken any suggestion at that point.

Not knowing why, but feeling strangely compelled somehow, he cradled Gylledra's head in one hand, brushing back the unruly locks of dark hair from her face before closing his eyes. He was immediately bombarded with whispers of the vilest most horrifying things he had ever heard, but squeezing his eyes shut tighter, he ignored them, just as he ignored the dark, horrifying things that haunted him from his own mind. He said her name and the voices fled, replaced with image after image of battlefields littered with bodies, destroyed cities…worlds, the overwhelming grief and sense of failure she lived with every day, mourning for those none could have helped.

The images changed abruptly to ones he recognized, Draenor…Gorgrond, the battles he fought, then a cup full of glowing green demon blood. His own horrors flashed through his mind and he was powerless to stop them but when he felt the nearly crippling grip of remorse and sadness, it was not just his own, but hers too. He knew then that they shared this particular darkness and suffered in solidarity, which somehow made it a little more bearable. Varok…her voice whispered from somewhere inside and gasping, he opened his eyes. Gylledra had returned to her normal visage, eyes slowly opening, looking up at him. Nasorya was sitting back on her heels staring at Saurfang, stunned, something he imagined she very seldom was. Gylledra murmured in Shalassian, but he only understood maybe every third word and he frowned, turning to Nasorya.

"What?"

"Etzanel tried to pull her back into the Void." She translated. Gylledra winced then.

"Etzanel?" He frowned. "That thing?" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the maelstrom.

"That is the last time I drink with an orc." With that, Gylledra drifted back into unconsciousness.

Raucous celebrating spanned all the ships as Saurfang carried Gylledra, unconscious, back down to her bed. Nasorya rushed around getting water and cloths, fussing and fretting.

"I can't tell if she's passed out from all the drinking the two of you did or if the lift it took for her to save the asses of countless orcs has done something to her." She complained. It was a serious side to her that so far none of them had witnessed before. "I like the orcs, I really do, but a million of you are not worth to me what she is."

"She saved us with no thought for herself." He mused.

"Of course she did." Nasorya snapped, looking up at him. "That is what Gylledra does, she saves whoever she can however she can. She saved me, she saved you…" She slumped a little. "She's given her whole life to try and save everyone…but no one has tried to save her." Nasorya's head snapped up, staring at Saurfang as she arrived at some conclusion. "Until today."

"What?" He frowned.

"You did something, she was falling into shadow and you did something that stopped it." She stood up, her gaze intensifying as she seemed to inspect him.

"If I did, I do not know what it was." He squirmed internally under her scrutiny.

"She likes you, though I don't know why."

"How kind of you to say so." Saurfang gave her a level look. How better to round out a chaotic situation than being insulted by a…whatever she was?

"I like most anyone with a pulse, she never likes anyone." Nasorya pursed her lips and glanced at his somewhat confounded expression. She dabbed a cool cloth on Gylledra's brow. "I love her above all else, she is as much a sister to me as if she had been born of the same mother. She must not die."

"Her pendant is dark, didn't it glow?" He pointed to the inert blue stone visible in its silver cage through the open neck of Gylledra's shirt.

"What?" Nasorya gasped, grabbing it, dread coming across her face. "Oh, no…that bastard must have drained it…"

"What is it?"

"It was keeping her alive."