Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft but if I did I think I'd be unfair. The Alliance would have to get a good ass whipping to start with followed by severe doses of drama and angst for all characters. BEWARE!
A/N: Again we are here on another beautiful New England day. I'm almost out of school, hooray! I only have finals this week. To all the people who have more school than that, good luck! And to those who have less, Darn you!
A word for the wise, if you want to read some other great stories you should check out Kyn's 'MahiMahi' and Champion's Blood by Blood and Honor. They're both great. Have any stories you guys wrote and would like me to read? Tell me in the review you leave here.
Kyn, yah the loss of time was a huge jump .:dodges cleaver:. But I suppose it had to happen. You've pretty much hit the nail on the head, yay for you. I love your story, by the way, Have to read more of it soon.
You won't find the answer to your question till later Dragoness. I thought that this chapter was a tad lighter than the last, the last was just depressing. I think it's Var'Jun's driving the undead nuts that makes it funny. Poor Mekora, he's had it in for him ever since he guarded Yawna.
The possibilities are endless, aren't they Reaper. You won't find out what's going on till this chapter. It's a surprise!
Geolord .:points to genre:. Do you see action/adventure here? I can't always put in action silly, I have to have some explanatory parts. Besides, that action packed chapters have barely begun yet. This was almost like some kind of bizarre prelude/half of the story! And Crota is indeed psycho. She had 'problems.' Hah! I figured out who you were. I'm a good guesser, huh?
Thanks to Samus, That Old Guy, and YnM for reviewing too. Some of your reviews got cut off though. -- I think FF is having some tech difficulties.
Alright now, let's move on. And I just hit 95 reviews! Let's try and make it 100 by this chapter. I've never had 100 reviews! I'm out of school too!
Chapter Twenty-One: Torrent
Ruka sniffed disdainfully and brought up his spear. "I said shut up. Don't address the oracle." Ruka brought the spear down with a quick smacking noise. It wasn't a very hard hit, the flat of the spear head would raise a welt where it has struck but surely a seasoned warrior such as Var'Jun could have taken it.
The troll yelped though, his feet skidding out from under him and his teeth gritted with pain. The spear had hit Var'Jun's side where a long time ago a certain deceased paladin had stabbed him and a priestess, missing and presumed dead, had healed him with most of her strength.
"Var'Jun." Gwyn stated this, not a question or query but a straight declaration. She had not recognized the troll before, the lanky creature who looked so disheveled and hopeless.
Var'Jun had filled out much more than the days of two years ago. He had gotten taller, is that was even possible, and far more wiry and lankier. His mane of violet hair had grown out a bit more, sticking out at crazy angle on the top of his head and was tailed by a thick braid that traveled down to the small of his back. His face had gotten more angular, filled out more and sketched over with a serious backdrop. She had not paid attention before, thinking never to see the troll alive again, but there was no mistaking the prince now.
"You know him?" Ruka stopped, his spear held leisurely and his eyes turned towards the oracle night elf now.
"Of course I know him." Gwyn replied nonchalantly as she leaned against the side of the tent nearby. She looked bored, "That's the Darkspear Prince. Of course, he's dead you know."
"We were not aware." Mekora answered this time. He was looking at Var'Jun strangely again but this time it was as if he had seen a ghost.
"I'm dead?" Var'Jun was ignored by all three of the people around him.
"We were not informed." Ruka began before he was quickly cut off my Gwyn.
"No, Thralk was going to tell you once he got here. But the trolls have been lying. Their prince is alive and well. Go tell your commander to send a notice to Thralk immediately."
"What do we do with him?" Mekora asked. Var'Jun could feel his hands, still tightly clenched around the troll's wrists, shaking violently. The undead rogue had severe anxiety problems.
"Let me take him," Gwyn replied viciously, "I'll pry answers out of him." The night elf chuckled as she pulled out a dagger and toyed with it thoughtfully.
Ruka looked like he was about to laugh but suddenly stopped. His face hardened, eyes glinting madly and his hand tightening over his spear.
"How can we trust you, elf?"
"I'm Thralk's oracle. It would be suicide not to." Gwyn gave the undead a malicious grin before moving to Mekora and taking the troll's wrists from the rogue. He looked as if a great burden had been lifted off of him and smiled.
When the undead smiled Var'Jun's heart fell. He had a youthful face, the smile that brightened when the undead was not plagued by what appeared to be guilt and fear. The undead could not have been much older than a child, he was youth in essence. Thralk was attracting the young undead to his army. That would breed generations of hate.
"Well, go on!" Gwyn growled, "And send a servant with two helpings worth of a fair lunch. Good wine too."
"Why feed him," Ruka demanded, "He's a prisoner, little more."
Gwyn chuckled as she forced the troll through the flap of the nearby tent.
"You'd be amazed at what people would tell you for a good meal."
Not more than fifteen minutes later Var'Jun was seated at a chipped travel table. He stared at the grains in the wood while still trying to struggle away at the bonds that fastened his wrists to the arm of the chair. His face was pulled into a grimace of anger, his teeth had bit his lip so hard that it was bleeding slightly.
Gwyn reentered the tent with her hands full of food. There were a number of different dried meats as well as loaves of bread, dried fruit, and a bottle of aged wine. The undead had done the best they could. It was all army shares, the type of food that a man could run on for days while traveling, but it was the type given to generals and sergeants and was the best the camp had to offer.
"Sonnuvabitch." Var'Jun snarled as he saw the elf. His eyes were tinted red and Gwyn took a step back nervously. She knew what royal power and lineage could produce in the troll's madness.
"Listen, please-"
"I thought you'd died. I pitied you, missed you god damnit. And now I see you've been working for that bastard Thralk, probably all along. Don't you care damnit?"
"You're right." Gwyn replied simply, "All of it's true. I don't deserve your pity, but don't think I'm going to give up on you now."
"What kind of bullshit are you feeding me now?" demanded the troll.
"Actually it's the type of stuff fit for the generals."
"That is not funny." Var'Jun growled as he leaned back and away from the food Gwyn was setting on the table, "I was talking about the story that you're going to tell me, probably how you tried so hard to resist Thralk but he was so powerful."
"No," Gwyn replied simply, "I'm going to tell you that I have been working for Thralk for quite a long time now. One usually does what he wants when he's threatening their mother."
"Bullshit."
"I'm telling the truth." Gwyn snarled. Some of her old composure had returned and just as fast had disappeared. The angry and sometimes smug tinge entered her voice and she banged the table with a clenched fist, "You think you know so much Var'Jun."
"Prove it to me," The troll snapped back. He felt strange. Back when the two had traveled together in their group they would fight, but not like this. Pure spite retched from both mouths, time and Thralk's mad rampage causing the two to mistrust each other.
Gwyn quickly ripped the dagger from the place where it hung from a loose sheath attached the belt circling her robes. The blade sliced through air and rope as it severed the bonds that tied the furious troll to his chair.
"Run then," Gwyn hissed dangerously and Var'Jun saw the cat form that was a second skin to her flash across her face. "Run because you're scared Var'Jun."
The troll paused, his face hardened and constricted as he shuffled in his seat for a few seconds. Finally he sighed and looked past the elf's shoulder.
"I'll stay but it's going to cost you some of that wine." Var'Jun replied finally.
Gwyn sighed and popped open the bottle. The cork flew off against the tent wall as Gwyn snapped it with the dagger. Var'Jun sighed and deftly downed the entire glass poured to him before leaning back into his chair and mumbling.
"Hit me with the bad news captain."
"Yawna's alive," Gwyn replied with a smile as Var'Jun's chair tipped over and the troll toppled over onto his back, surprise sputtered in his lips. "And she's in this camp right now. We're going to get her out."
Mekora was gasping for breath by the time he reached the prisoners' cells. What the rogue was doing was more than dangerous, it was cruel and painful suicide. But for once in Mekora's pitiful life he was doing what he knew was right and the aftermath of this would be brutal but welcome. Mekora was sick of the army anyhow.
After quickly flashing the guards pass to the soldier on duty the rogue blasted past the other prisoners who threw insults and anger his way. The undead was focused on the very one prisoner who wasn't.
"Hello Mekora." Yawna said placidly as the undead, gasping for air and trying to sputter out the news he was relying, reached the steel cage that was her home. The tauren was braiding her wild mane into a thick coil.
"Yawna," the undead gasped out. He was watching the nearby prison warden with his usual haunted look, "They're here."
"Who?" Yawna handed him a bowl of water. Mekora blinked as he realized that it was the only one that she would get that day. He sniffed and pushed it away.
"Stop being so generous, there's no time." Mekora hissed softly to the tauren. She looked taken aback but said nothing otherwise. "The troll you were talking about, and the elf. They're both here."
"Gwyn and Var'Jun?" Yawna's eyes clouded over and began to well with tears. She clutched her hands and from the bowl of water in her hands sprung miniature figures of the two. Mekora blinked and watched as they stood still.
"Yes… Wait, what are those doing?" Mekora felt his spine tighten as a miniature figure of himself rose from the water. The elf and troll dissolved and as sinister figure rose behind his watery statue. It raised an axe and brought it down on the little water Mekora's back.
"Mekora," Yawna said very softly, "Thralk is coming."
The undead spluttered for a moment before looking around. The guards had all disappeared and camp was deadly silent. Mekora began to shiver as his nervousness took hold of his entire body.
"W-w-w-wait here." the rogue stuttered. One second he was there and the next he wasn't. Yawna blinked as the rogue was able to blend into the shadows.
Mekora appeared back not more than a minute later. He had obviously been to the warden's tent. The ring of keys jangled in his hands.
The undead has gone white and his face was pursed is nervous fashion. If he had looked dead before he looked positively ghostly now. He passed the keys from one hand to the other before wincing and starting to find the one that fit the lock on Yawna's cell. The other prisoners set up a howl.
Yawna heard the lock click just as she saw Thralk. He smiled maliciously before beckoning to the army of guards behind him and stepping forwards. Mekora was none the wiser, his smile cracking open his face with glee and writing pride across his features.
"Look Yawna, I'm-"
Yawna never found out what Mekora was. Neither did she have time to warn him before Thralk grabbed an axe from a guard nearby and brought it down with a sickening crack on the undead's back.
Yawna sat in stunned silence for a moment before she stood quickly and forced the door of her cell open. The hinges creaked as they pushed against the body of Mekora. Yawna scooped him up easily, the young undead's weight a sinful burden in her arms.
"Thralk."
"Yep," Thralk smiled almost lazily and leaned on the axe, "Been quite some years Yawna. Recognize this?" From the folds of his robes Thralk produced the bone axe. The Demon Wolf's dropped femur looked sharper than ever. Yawna winced as she realized that Thralk had been in possession of her father's axe handle.
"That's mine."
"Obviously. You seem to be lacking your usual luster. Where is your sense of justice and honor Yawna? Truly it's mine, the Demon Wolf is my possession after all." Thralk paused and began to giggle almost madly. It was a strange sight, the leader of the Holocaust, the undead lord of Yawna's pain, standing and giggling.
"Yawna you are too much." Thralk gestured to the bleeding undead in Yawna's arms, "Really, has your maternal instinct even stretched to my soldiers which as we speak are trying to find those infernal companions of yours."
"It's true then?"
"Yes, the oracle has betrayed me, she'll pay dearly for that." Thralk wiped some imaginary dust off his pristine robes, "And the prince is alive and well. Lying trolls."
"Don't you ever get tired of-"
"Shut up," Thralk interrupted the tauren loudly before nodding at his guards, "Someone grab her and finish off whatever pathetic soul still clings to the rotting corpse of the traitor." Thralk paused to allow himself a breath of fresh air. Yawna's axe twirled in his hand.
Something nagged at the back of the undead's mind though. As the Yawna was roughly seized by a burly pair of undead Thralk realized his mistake. The ground was mud.
Two torrents of water shot up from the ground. The wavering columns crashed on nearby men and caused them to spring back and cry out. The liquid crashed down on Thralk's army as Yawna slipped in between the flailing men. The undead summoner growled.
"Fools." With a snap of his fingers Thralk diminished the dying flood and it rose ghostly steam amongst the soldiers. Fire still crackled, five tiny flames floating a few inches above every finger.
"Go after her!"
"Goddamn." Var'Jun snarled as his sword cleaved through the air and was narrowly avoided by the pointed face of an undead soldier. Behind him he heard the familiar snarl of Gwyn's feline mouth curling around something's throat.
"There's too many." The panther behind the troll spat out a mouthful of foul, rotting blood and jumped out of the way of a pole arm.
"I know, I know!" the warrior prince roared angrily and sliced clean through the waist of a gulping priestess.
Var'Jun winced and looked around him. From everywhere it seemed there was a torrent of soldiers pouring forth. Their screams, yells, gurgles, and commands rose into a deafening tumult that threatened to pop the troll's eardrums.
But a new sound was roaring above the crazy noise of undead all trying to kill the same two people at once. It started as a low rumble that was peppered by crashing tent noises and the screams of those swept into it. Soon it was a screaming bellow, crashing noises and panicked cries ceasing the fighting of the figures and causing all to stand still.
The mud under Gwyn's feet began to crack and dry. Var'Jun had felt it too though he hadn't quite made the connection that Gwyn did. All the troll knew was that he had finally recognize what was coming their way.
A wave.
"It's Yawna." Gwyn remarked. She grasped the collar of the troll's shirt and began to push and hack her way through the undead. Those who realized that she was escaping fought back bitterly but most turned and ran.
"Yawna?" Var'Jun demanded, "But why would she-"
There was no more sound left in the troll's throat. Gwyn, dragging him along behind her, paused as he cut off and turned around to see what the troll saw.
The wave which at first might have been able to be outrun and withstood now towered almost fifty feet high. People sucked into it yelped and cried out only to have their voices drowned away by roaring water and liquid in their lungs. The wave was lapping at the ground around the troll and elf's feet.
"Yawna." Gwyn cried out as she saw the tauren floating above the rising water. It took only a split second to study her though it seemed as if it was hours. Yawna's eyes were glowing their lucid blue color again as they had back in the Murloc camp all those years ago. In her arms she supported the body of an undead and the hands that curled under his neck and the crook of his legs glowed with a similar azure aura. But the most noticeable thing was the lights that floated around her back in the shape of a pair of jagged feathered wings.
"Yawna, no!" Gwyn called out suddenly. She felt her legs slip out from under her as the wave sucked her in and began to fill her lungs, "You'll kill them all!"
The wave just froze. Water turned into hard glass and a few of those with body parts half in and half out began to wriggle furiously. Var'Jun was trapped up to his waist in the frozen liquid and he began to pound it with his fists. Gwyn had fallen and was sitting on her knees that were stuck fast together.
Something made a skittering noise across the glassy water. While Yawna was still gliding across the stuck wave the noise grew louder and turned into an angry roar.
Thralk had avoided the water.
He snarled and raised the bone axe above Gwyn's neck. His face was livid, slime dripping from the corners of his mouth where he let ragged breath slip through. His eyes, sunken into the back of his skull, were red and glowing lividly.
"Goddamn traitorous wench!" Thralk brought the axe crashing down onto Gwyn's waist, "I'll kill you!"
Alrighty well that was sort of mean. Sorry about having a while to update. This week has been crazy. No problems though, next update hopefully very soon. Sorry about the cliffhanger.