Author's Note & Standard Disclaimer: Warcraft and related intellectual property are, quite naturally, owned by Blizzard Entertainment. I am not them.

The Tauren shaman reared back and slammed a great two-handed mace into the ground, the impact causing a thud that echoed among the village's huts. For a moment, even the seabirds stopped calling; the only sound was that of the waves, gently lapping the shore. The Tauren spoke. "By the grace of the elements stand we here today. For the strength of the Horde, we will choose those who are to follow us, as we are chosen by them. Trolls of Shadowprey village, Bindings of the Jagged Spear, the time has come for those of you who will to enter the service of the Horde under Warchief Thrall. Form a line!"

Wordlessly, the young trolls formed a single-file line facing the cluster of masters. The shaman nodded slowly. "Those who will serve, take one step forward!"

Bodily, the line took a pace forward. Rholdakh was acutely aware of Maliata on his left, staring straight ahead with a determined expression.

The shaman spoke again. "Should you take this service, you will become the hands of Thrall, his eyes in far places, his shield to defend him, his sword to attack his enemies. You will be little better than a slave to him, as he was to the humans- but that little makes the difference, for you will be his brothers and sisters, children though not of his blood. You will be his Horde, at his beck and call. Know that you will be asked to do great and terrible things. You will be expected to do them, nevertheless. You may be asked to do things you feel beyond you. You will do them, nevertheless. You will look after the Horde; the Horde will in turn look after you. Success is rewarded, desperation aided, incompetence punished, treachery destroyed, and always, honor is upheld."

The shaman looked over the line carefully. "You are eager now, but keep truly in your mind the fact that this fire may fade, may grow cold. The Horde is a flame- let those who would burn take one step forward."

Rholdakh thought the words over in his mind. There truly was no going back. He would no longer be some simple troll... but was that what he wanted? The life of some simple fisherman? He would be a mage or a great warrior, doing heroic deeds the like of which had never been seen... he would be someone important. He would be a part of this great army, this Horde.

All these thoughts flashed through Rholdakh's mind, and he took a slow, careful step forward. He was aware that Maliata had stepped ahead of him almost before the shaman had finished speaking, and he had to work at it to repress his grin. At the least, he would have a friend. As far as he could tell, about half of the trolls stepped forward- perhaps fifteen or less from the whole village.

The shaman nodded. "So be it. The rest of you may stand back. You who would be in the Horde, think carefully on what your role is to be, and know that whatever you become you are now under the command of Stone Guard Melne Highcloud. You will form a half-circle around me, thirty feet across."

The chosen recruits immediately complied, forming an open semi-circle facing Melne at its center. The shaman nodded slowly. "Good. Discipline. I commend your village elders. Now... watch and learn." He stepped back, out of the center of the circle, and the masters formed the other half of the circle to close the ring. Rholdakh was very aware of one of the magi standing just to his right, another of the undead Forsaken, the man's eyes glowing with yellow light.

The three warriors stepped forward into the circle, their wolves standing in their places to keep the ring closed. The larger of the two orcs raised his voice, shouting harshly. "A warrior's concern is with strength! Your weapons? Your allies? All can fail you! When in a fight, you need to be able to defend yourself with any means at your disposal!"

The smaller orc drew a short sword as the Tauren unslung a huge mace from his back. The larger orc continued to shout. "In combat, you can trust only your strength to save you when cunning fails, when fate conspires against you, when magic proves unreliable!" The tauren and the other orc both charged him. There was a brief blur of complicated movement and then the smaller orc was on the ground on his back halfway across the circle and the larger orc was straining against the Tauren with an axe he'd unslung from his back with impossible speed.

"Power is your only dependable ally! Power will allow you to survive, to defend others, to defeat your foes!" He dropped suddenly, kicking out, and the Tauren warrior dropped like a rock. Before he could rise, the orc's axe was at his throat. The orc gave a hoarse chuckle. "Guile, of course, hurts nothing."

The recruits spontaneously applauded as the warrior commander helped his companions up. "So tell me, then, is there any who thinks they can master steel and bone, guile and power, and become a warrior? Step forward, you who will!"

Five trolls stepped forward. Rholdakh thought for a moment. Would this be how he would serve the Horde? He tried to think. Was this his role? Beside him he saw Maliata take a half-step and then check herself. No, she would not be a warrior... and neither would he. The warriors, new recruits and masters both, left the circle and the mage on Rholdakh's right stepped into the circle. His voice sounded oddly out of place in the sunlight.

"Power indeed the warriors promise, and power they can deliver... but it is a sad power compared to what some of us can wield. All have it within them to seek this power, bind it to their wills. This power is called magic, and with it we can create." The air shimmered and a flask of water dropped into his left hand.

"This power is called magic, and with it we can alter." The mage faded from view entirely, becoming totally invisible. From the space where he was standing, Rholdakh heard a voice. "This power is called magic... and with it we can destroy."

The flask of water flew into the air as the mage shimmered back into view. There was a sharp crack and a flash of fire from the mage's hands, and a small cloud of steam formed above the circle. Then there was a harsh whistle as a wave of intense cold turned steam to rain, then to hail, then to droplets of ice that spattered the sunlit dust inside the circle. The mage clapped his hands sharply and all the ice shimmered and disappeared in a flare of purple light.

"If there are those among you who would master this power, step forward now."

Several trolls stepped forward. Rholdakh thought about it long and hard, nearly stepped forward but, in the end, subsided. To his left, Maliata simply stood and waited. The mages and their new apprentices left the circle and one of the hunters entered it. When he spoke, his voice was much lower than either mage or warrior, so Rholdakh had to strain to hear.

"My allies have much to say about power. I do not know of such things, but I do know that the greatest imperative is to survive. That, I can teach you." The orc waved a hand at all around him. "I have no magic to show, no throws to demonstrate... I have slept on the land, heard its heartbeat, tracked its creatures. I can follow a snake through a swamp, a squirrel through the trees, a tiger through the jungle. I can set traps, I can put an arrow through an apple at eighty yards and, if it comes down to it, I can hold my own hand-to-hand with any pinkskin. I will teach those who are willing."

Two more trolls stepped forward. Neither Rholdakh nor Maliata stirred from their places. The hunters, old and new, left the circle. Now there were only five troll hopefuls and three masters yet to speak. Melne stepped forward.

"Hunter Korrak speaks of the earth. Where he tracks its creatures, I speak to them. Magus Hendrick speaks of fire, water, and creation. I can do all. Warrior Varr speaks of power." He stomped his foot once and the entire village shook, threw back his head and shouted so it echoed off the cliffs and the waves roiled. "I... have power. The earth, the air, the fire, the water and the wilds, they lend it to me if they will, and I in turn use it as I can. I will not ask a recruit to step forward."

Melne moved from one recruit to the next in turn, scrutinizing them. Rholdakh almost bit his lip with nervousness. This was it, this was worth not being a mage for. This could be it. He would have this power, to shake buildings and make the waves storm. Melne looked at him carefully, looked into his eyes, and then moved on to Maliata, making a full rotation of the circle. He stepped back. "You there. The seas know you already. Come." He pointed.

Not at Rholdakh.

The young troll fought back his disappointment, a mixture of anger, frustration, and agony roiling in his mind. Did they go around again and let you choose? Could he be a mage after all? He almost opened his mouth, but a knowing look from Melne and a tiny, tiny shake of the Tauren's head kept him silent.

The rogue trainer stepped forward next. "I am no magician. Those who would be my apprentices- you have ten minutes to find me." He threw something onto the ground and there was a flash. By the time Rholdakh's vision had cleared, the rogue had vanished. Maliata tore out of the circle at a dead sprint, one of the other trolls following her.

Rholdakh and the lone remaining recruit looked at one another across the circle. The other recruit looked confident, even pleased, a state of events that did not match Rholdakh's own feelings.

The undead woman from the pier stepped into the circle, her troll companion following. "In times of strife, there will always be those who are in need of aid. Whether mending the body or soothing the mind, we priests will be here. We offer aid and solace to our allies." Her hand glittered with golden light. A wave of her hand at the warrior masters, and the minor scrapes they'd incurred vanished with no trace, leaving perfectly healed skin behind.

The troll priest spoke up. "With all light, there be shadow; we can soothe pain or inflict it, calm the mind or destroy it." He narrowed his eyes and Rholdakh felt a scream, a horrible scream, the scream of children in agony, of love destroyed- he felt himself sweat, felt all his muscles clench fighting the sheer panic this instilled, saw one or two of the recruits actually break ranks and flee for a few steps-

The undead priestess waved a hand and the terror faded as swiftly as it had come. "If you have the talent, we will train you. J'kala?"
The troll in the dark robes looked at Rholdakh intently. He felt something in his mind briefly, then the sensation faded. The troll called J'kala nodded. "He has the shadow, mon. He must have the light."

The undead priestess nodded. Rholdakh considered. Was this to be his task? Was he to be some priest, some defender? It wouldn't be so bad... not as exciting as a magus, perhaps, but J'kala had helped him out of the water, had given him that enchanted ribbon... perhaps J'kala would be his teacher? That would be-

The priestess gestured to him. "I am Guineve Weaver of Hillsbrad, and you will be my apprentice. What is your name?"
Or perhaps J'kala wouldn't be his teacher. Rholdakh thought of asking if he could be a mage instead one last time, then shrugged mentally. "I be Rholdakh."
Guineve looked him over critically. "If you have any personal effects, they will be here later. Come."
Rholdakh's frustration finally found a vent in a quiet statement. "I haven't said my goodbyes."
Guineve did not so much as look back. "Sometimes we don't get to say goodbyes. We're travelling by wyvern. Get on."

They left the village on gryphon-back, travelling to the west at a great speed.