Travel Log
Atrum
Status: Nervous, but excited.
Inventory: War Blade, Burnsabre, Werewolf Helm, 760 gold, Satornarro studies, "A Brief Glance into the Burning Legion" by Malfurion Stormrage
Spells: None identified.
Abilities: Full Moon Metamorphosis.
Torva
Status: Ex'austod, mon.
Inventory: Dual Throwing Axes.
Spells: Damnit, why dis evon be heeyah?
Abilities: I okay at tellin' jokes…
Rowan
Status: Scared shitless.
Inventory: Toolkits, Gadgets, unfinished weapons, Various engineering books, 160 gold.
Spells: Can't you just get rid of this thing already!
Abilities: Inventing, Tinkering, and Fleeing.
Gahren
Status: Cautious.
Inventory: Warhammer, Studded Fur Armor, Chieftain's Helm, 520 Gold
Spells: None Identified.
Abilities: None Identified.
Group
Group Morale: Moderate
Machines/Vehicles: 3 LargeWagons
Troops: 14 Gnolls
Supplies: 6 Bushels of food, Gnoll weaponry.
And now, I give you Wolven!
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The newly built caravan had set out north, in the direction of what Atrum believed to be a town hidden away from the Scourge in the Plaguelands. Atrum himself was amazed that a town had survived so close to the undead, never having been there himself to confirm it. It was the only possible destination however, so there wasn't much choice in the matter. The caravan had been traversing the worn forest path for hours, pulled by alternating groups of Gnolls. One 5-gnoll group would pull for an hour, than another 5-gnoll group would take their place while they rested. Atrum was surprised to find that he had not killed any of the gnolls the night before. One of them had been crippled however, but Gahren had assured him the damage would not be permanent. He was even more surprised to find that some members of the gnoll tribe hadn't even shown their faces in last night's fight. Hence the reason the gnolls had managed to muster enough men to pull the caravans.
They were strong creatures, these gnolls: with the strength of a wolf, the will of a man, and the endurance of a dog, they pulled the caravan without wavering, onward to an unknown destination. The caravan was composed of 3 large wagons, covered in the recycled linens of the Gnoll huts. Each one was connected to another, all of them being pulled by the gnolls at a steady pace. Atrum, Torva, and Gahren walked along side the Caravan, each with their weapons in hand. Atrum had finally reclaimed his most treasured Warblade, along with the rest of his equipment. Torva managed a pair of throwing axes, the traditional weaponry of forest trolls, whilst Gahren had his Warhammer ready at his side. Atrum led from the front, Torva on the caravan's side, and Gahren defending the rear. The journey so far had been so unnervingly uneventful that Atrum swore he was beginning to get twitchy. Gahren would have nearly had his head sliced off if not for that huge hammer of his. Atrum had, of course, apologized repeatedly after the incident, thus inspiring Gahren to take his current escort position, in the back… away from Atrum.
Rowan was inside the caravan, a person of his occupation not being of much use on the outside. He, along with the female gnolls, and a few wounded males, rid the caravans in what seemed like safety. There were 18 of them in total, 15 gnolls, including Gahren, a human, a troll, and a defective elf, as Rowan had previously explained. Apparently, the boy had been banished from the Quel'Dorei, otherwise known as the High Elves, after his parents' deaths. With the absence of his guardians, as well as prince Kael'thas, the chain of command fell to one Aigus Sunseeker who, unlike the prince, could not tolerate 'handicapped' elves. Whatever reputation his family had gained was turned to dust the moment Rowan left. So, here he was, with no where to go. In truth, joining Atrum was the best thing that had happened to him in over a year, Gods' know how he even survived that long. Atrum really wasn't sure what Rowan had to offer him, but he became interested in the man's tinkering. Perhaps one day, Atrum could learn from him, and make a gadget of his own.
No, stop… focus on you work, Atrum. Returning to reality, Atrum scanned the path in front of him. He was on a dirt road, with both dead and live trees, bushes, and other plants dotting his sides. The path headed downhill, with cliff walls rising up beside them. A few more minutes of walking revealed a large clearing in between the cliff walls, with a couple of rotting buildings lining the side. Atrum signaled a stop with his hand. He motioned for Torva and Gahren to come to him.
Torva arrived first, followed by Gahren "So… wa's da plan, boss'mon?" Torva looked from one worn building to another "Looks kinda suspishos, no?"
"That's what I was thinking. Here's what we do: Gahren, you round up some gnolls and set up a defensive perimeter around the caravan. Above all things, the caravan is not to be touched." Gahren nodded "Right. Torva, you're with me" The troll nodded as well.
"Wha' we gonna do, boss?" Atrum pointed towards the closest structure.
"We're scouting the area, starting with that building." He pointed to a large, rotting shack. "Alright, everyone know what to do? Let's go."
Atrum and Torva made their way towards the buildings, both with their weapons at the ready. Atrum placed his Warblade into a slot on his back, and instead pulled out the thin silvery blade he had on his back. As the duo crept into the building, the walls around them creaked as they walked by. A moment or so passed, and nothing had happened. Atrum guessed the area was clea—
"Oof!" Something had fell on top of Torva! Atrum turned to swipe at it with his blade, but there was nothing there. Torva threw off the fallen floor board pushed himself off the ground as he rubbed the back of his head in pain. "Oww.. sorry, mon, false a'lahm…" Atrum sighed. Too twitchy… too twitchy indeed…
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Rowan was toying around with a spring and some cut tin pieces when the caravan had suddenly come to a stop. A moment or so afterwards, he heard the sound of the gnolls shuffling about. The tinkerer poked his head out of the wagon to find his new comrades marching about, circling the caravan. Unarmed gnolls searched for weapons whilst those already prepared lined up around the wagons. Stepping out of the vehicle, he tried to make sense of what was going on. Luckily, Gahren had spotted him before he got into too much trouble.
"Elf! What are you doing?"
"G-gahren?.. What's going o—"
"Get back in the wagon! This an unsecured area and Lord Atrum has ordered all able-bodied soldiers to defend the area. The wounded, and otherwise incapable of combat, are to remain hidden in the caravan. So get moving!"
"R-right!" Gahren eyed the timid man as he scampered off. Such a frightened creature… he wondered why.
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They'd entered the second building now, this one even larger than the first. It looked like an old barn, obviously long out of use. Torva 's troll ears perked up and looked around for a moment, his red eyes trying to catch sight of some invisible entity. " 'Ey.. 'ey, boss'mon, joo heah dat? Sounz like.. moosic?" The troll looked around, slightly confused. "Wha'da hell? I sweah, I too ole foh dis shi'…"
"Shh.." Atrum quieted the bemused troll and listened in on the sound. It wasn't just music… song, dance, voices… all very hard to catch, but with enough silence, it could be heard. "Torva, look around for some kind of trap door or secret passage." Torva looked at him for a second before complying with the order. Atrum followed suite and they both searched the rotting barn for the source of the filtered noise. Atrum was shuffling through a pile of rotting wheat when his hand brushed against something. It was cold, round, and metallic... he cleared away some more of the dead wheat to discover a small trap door. "Torva! I found it!" The troll stopped what he was doing and rushed over to see.
"Whas'dat? C'mon, le'me take a peek, ya mon?"
"Shut up! It's just a door… stay quiet, I'm still not sure if this place is safe..."
"Yah, yah…" he sighed "Why ya gotta ruin all da fun, eh mon?"
Atrum ignored him and slowly opened the door. The resulting creak was most unpleasant. Atrum and Torva cringed, their being ears sensitive to high-pitched noises. Once it was over, Torva slapped him over the head. "Wha'da 'ell, mon! I t'ought joo say 'stay quiet!' "He lightly kicked Atrum in the side to emphasize his point.
"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, so shu-.." He stopped when he heard the sound of footsteps growing louder. "..Shh… listen… you hear that?"
Torva nodded "Ja, mon…" Atrum peaked down through the small opening below him. A shadow moved across the floor beneath him. "There must be lights down there…and that means.." The shadows moved closer... and closer… Sirren backed a way a little. In a moment, the shadow's source revealed itself to be… a night elf, and a girl at that. Atrum, mildly surprised, poked his head out to get a better look. Unfortunately…
"Intruder!" she caught sight of him and hurriedly began loading an arrow into her bow. Atrum let out and agitated sigh and put his hands up to try and calm her down.
"Hey!" said in his best 'friendly tone' "Calm down! We're not here to fight, really! We just need a place to stay that's a—"
"Shut up, wolf! You're with the Black Rock clan, aren't you! Die, heathen!" She looked furious. Atrum was rarely ever frightened, but oddly enough, he could feel his legs shaking with every passing moment. Or maybe those we're Torva's legs..?
Wha? Orcs? Black Rock? Wolf… wait a…the helmet! Atrum removed his wolf helm immediately. "Wait! Wait! It's just armor, see? I'm not with the orcs or anything! Really!" This calmed her a little, but a moment later she raised her bow again, this time at Torva.
"Who's he?" she said, thrusting her bow threateningly at him. Torva didn't seem effected in the least. On the contrary, his eyes sparkled, his mouth formed a grin. The best grin a troll could manage, anyway.
"Wow.. tha's one tough babe! Da purple's a bit o' a turn off', bu'I can live wi'it fo a body like dat!" Sirren frowned, slapping his head with frustration. Now, he understood it all perfectly.
"Don't mind him." His voice was dull and blunt "He's just horny." The elf, frightened and cringing in mild disgust, nodded her head and motioned for Atrum to come down. He did as told. "So... where exactly is this place? And what would a night elf be doing here? Come to think of it… who are you?"
"I'd like to ask you the same thing! How'd you find this place?"
"Rumors. Lots of 'em. Listen, if it's okay with you, there're a whole bunch of people up top that need a place to stay. Think you can help?"
"Maybe… they aren't hostile, are they?"
"Relax!" Atrum smiled. "They're harmless."
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A beer mug flew overhead. "Hey! Stop throwing thos—" followed by some rum "I told you, you can't—" then a chair "No! Not the—" and four salvos of wine barrels "Nooo! Not the wine.. Awh.. I was saving those! For ten years! Ten. Freaking. YEARS!" The bartender threw his hands up in their and spewed out various angry ramblings mixed with colorful words that Torva would kill to learn. In a fit of rage, the furry pandaren hopped over the bar and joined the rowdy gnolls. "Don't," Punch "Break," Kick "MY BAR!" Body Slam. Ironic that he said that, for his weapon of choice was a nearby stool, conveniently placed within arms length. The device was an effective bludgeon, too.
Atrum scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "Eh… sorry, I didn't know that gnolls… did this… at.. bars.. uh.." He face scrunched up hard when he tried to think of a better excuse. The night elf stared, blinked, then laughed heartily. Atrum stopped to look up. "Huh? What's so funny?" Her laughing was stifled into quiet giggles.
"Nothing, it's nothing. These guys aren't as bad as that warlock…" she trailed off, and Atrum would have asked her what she was talking about if not for the need to duck as a pickle jar soared overhead. It crashed somewhere across the room. "Uh.. let's go somewhere safer."
"I dunno, it's kinda fun out here."
"Come on!"
"Yes, mother…"
"Ugh!" she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him outside the pub and into a tunnel. "There. Stubborn bastard, you could've gotten hurt!"
"Eh, what's a few bruises between friends, right?"
"Idiot…" Atrum pushed himself up and looked about. The tunnel was lit of by a series of torches lined up against the walls. "So.. who exactly are you?" He turned around and gave quirked his brow.
"Who wants to know?" She thought it over for a moment, then answered.
"A friend."
"A friend?" She nodded back "..Don't know if you'd still call yourself that once you hear my name…" She shook her head.
"Oh come on! Stop the dramatics and say it already." Atrum sighed and hung his head before answering.
"It's... Atrum" it came out like a rushed whisper, but her elven ears caught it.
"Atrum? Sounds familiar.. hang on, you're not..? Nah, couldn't be.. unless.."
Don't.
She came closer.
Don't.
Another step, and she pulled his head up to meet hers.
No! Please, don't!
His mind was screaming in agony, but his voice was caught in his throat. She pulled his head up and looked into his eyes.
"..You're eyes.. they're.." Her actions were quick and reckless. She backed away, still staring into his golden irises, stricken with horror. "You're him! You're the werewolf! Atrum the Wolven!" He turned his face away in shame, body convulsing with sorrow. Atrum's legs buckled, unable to support him, and he fell onto his bottom. Tears dripped down his cheeks, burning with grief. The elf watched, frightened but curious. 'This creature… it… he… he's crying?" She shivered with terror, but managed to stand, despite her weakness. Slowly, she reached for him. "Why are you.."
"No! Get Away!" He stood up wildly, tears still rushing down his face. "Don't..." he shivered "Don't come near me!" Without warning, he ran down the halls as fast as he could, it didn't matter where… The ladder to the barn came into view. Without hesitation, he climbed it and ran out into the dark canyon. Stopping when he thought he'd lost her, he collapsed onto his knees. He huffed again and again, but fatigue slowly faded into sorrow. He brought his hands up to cover his face, and he cried. That night, no wolves howled.
Rowan had found him a half our later, leaning in a crouched position against one of the many rotting shacks. He was still whimpering when Rowan arrived. "Mister Atrum? Sir.. wha… what happened to you? What's wrong, sir?" What the? Why was he calling him 'sir?' Oh.. right… he'd pledged loyalty to Atrum. What a stupid thing to do… Loyalty involved 'trust' … what trust was there in this world? He'd have sooner been hunted than trusted by that wretched girl... How stupid it was to believe in such things..
"I.. it's nothing. I'm just.. cold, that's all." He acted like he was shivering. "Brrr. See? I'm just cold, that's all." His voice cracked and belied his false façade. Damnit… "It's nothing, really! Just.. just go back inside, okay Rowan?..." But the elf was quiet. "…Okay?"
"Okay…" he whispered. He took a step forward, crouched down, and leaned against the shack's shoddy wall. Atrum felt.. confused. "C'mon, sir…" his voice was still quiet "Tell me what's wrong" Rowan was being stubborn. But Atrum was too weak to resist.
"…I ran away. I ran away from that girl. Because… because I—" he hiccupped, the memories stirring up more tears. "She... She heard my name, Rowan. She knew about my reputation." His words quickened as he went. "And… when she saw my eyes, she… she…" He stopped, swallowing some saliva. He relaxed, calming himself before beginning again. "…She resembled someone that I knew. A girl from the past. Her name was Daisy… and that elf, she.. she looked like her.. talked like her. Her voice, her smile.." His voice held no emotion. It was cold and detached. "Even her reaction… it was all just like her… exactly like Daisy… and that… scared me. Terrified me. I couldn't even look at her. All I could do was run… all I did was run.." Rowan rested a comforting hand on Atrum's shoulder.
"I… scare you?" The voice came from the barn. The night elf had an apologetic expression. "But.. you scare me.." Atrum snorted.
"Of course I do… I scare everyone.. no matter what I try, they'll always run away from me. Because of these eyes... these stupid eyes!" He slammed his fist into the ground, causing a dust cloud to fly up.
"..My name… My name is Rose." His pupils shrunk as the words came out. Rose?.. "Atrum, I'm sorry for the way I acted… I didn't know. I—"
"Of course not. No one knows.. no one ever knows…So why'd you come down here. If all you came for was to apologize, you're wasting your time. No apology will ever take away my curse." She stared at him, quiet, thoughtful. A step. Two steps. She came closer, and he remained silent.
"I don't know if it's okay to be friends with a werewolf, but… Being friends with a person, that'd be okay…right?" She crouched down to his level, smiling slightly. He looked up at her. Kind… so very kind. She was just like her, but… could he trust her?.. Such a stupid thing it is.. to trust is to be an idiot. And Atrum considered himself… the greatest of all idiots.
"Right.." he smiled weakly. No wolves howled.. none made a sound. But that night, all the wolves watched, leaning over the canyon walls, as their brother embraced a woman again.
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Eh.. a little rough around the edges, but for the most part, I think it came out okay. )