Well, I don't own any of the stuff that Blizzard's got.

Chasing Through Hell

Fragile Ground

Maurus swept through the void, formless and weightless, yet with a dizzying sensation of violent movement. He thought in a brief moment of clarity that having his mind spread over an entire swarm of bees would feel similar, though the thought vanished just as quickly in the jumble of sensations that assaulted him. Bizarre sights scintillated before him, impossible to make sense off, colors and shapes he had never seen before and would have been at a loss to describe if asked. He could not decide whether the void was perfectly silent or roaring with sound and the temperature around him shifted erratically, leaping from pleasant to freezing to blazing with no rhythm and no warning.

Finally, after what seemed like both an instant and a year, his hooves clacked onto stone, hard, and he stumbled forward, feeling faint and oddly heavy. He gasped for air, feeling like he'd surfaced from a long dive, and each breath stung his nose and mouth with a familiar, acrid smell. His vision was fuzzy with lights that throbbed in time with the blood pounding in his head.

Someone with a deep, slightly hoarse voice bellowed out for the Horde newcomers, shouting at them to keep moving. Maurus paid little attention to the actual words, hurrying down the huge stone steps toward the red banners flying over the sprawling Horde camp at the foot of the Portal. As they descended the stairs, his senses began to sharpen from the numbed state that the trip through the Portal had put them in. His vision cleared, the people around him coming into focus and he was glad to see Mathias, Arianna and Wiven around him. He became aware of the bustle of people around him and the hot wind which swept past him, away from the portal, tugging at his armor, clothing and fur. He noticed the soft splat under his hoof at the same time the sour stench of sick hit his nostrils, along with the realization that the caustic smell of the dust reminded him of the stones Arianna gave him. He looked down, saw the puddle of vomit he'd stepped in, one among many dotting the worn stones, and felt like his stomach arrived in that moment, apparently shaken, squeezed and abused thoroughly. The nausea rolled up through his body, making him gag and he only just kept moving instead of dropping to a knee in the vomit. He managed to force back the urge to empty his stomach, though just barely, leaving him breathing carefully, his stomach churning sickeningly with each step and each breath of the stinging, dusty air.

Some of the other new arrivals weren't so lucky. The ugly sound of someone being sick met his ears, along with wet splashes, coarse laughter and harsh urgings to keep moving.

He raised his gaze from the spots of half-digested mush on the stone to get his thoughts off vomiting and gaped as he stared out over the blood red landscape, an uneven land of hills and sharp, broken mountains. At the foot of the Portal, between the Horde camp and the white tents and blue banners of the similarly huge Alliance camp, a wide road of packed red dirt began. It cut a path, between towering columns of grey stone, from the Portal to the dark fortress in the distance, which rose like a wall across the land. The sky was dark and deep and worryingly, he could see more of it where the land simply fell away, like he was on a thin slice of land and not on something solid and massive like in Azeroth. Red and blue moons hung in the air, huge and heavy, looking close enough to touch, and what looked like frozen lightning or maybe this world's version of the aurora floated above, demonic green and ghostly.

It was an altogether alien place. The landscape might on first glance appear similar to the Blasted Lands, but the crumbled edges of the land and the sky told him differently. So did the foul taste of the air, so much more pronounced than the slight edge there had been to on the other side of the Portal. He was breathing corrupted earth, and it burned his nostrils and unsettled his stomach with each inhale.

Mouth twisting with worry at what just being here might do to him, he looked to his left and decided that this world wasn't any fairer than Azeroth. The only indication that Mathias had traveled between the worlds was a slight swaying in his movements and the expression of wide-eyed awe on his face. He was looking around curiously, his smile widening briefly every time his eyes fell on the sickly people around them.

"So this is the promised land," Wiven said, giving a giddy chuckle that Maurus was glad to hear after how short-tempered he'd been all the way through the Blasted Lands. When Maurus turned to him however, his cheer changed into concern. Wiven looked almost feverish and his wide, wild smile and blazing eyes looked dangerous, illuminated from below by the fire that danced around his fingertips, golden flame tinged with green.

"Ride it, Wiven. Don't drown." Arianna's words were quiet and admonishing, but there was a breathy quality to her voice and her eyes were just as bright with green fire, as was her staff. Maurus' eyes strayed to her chest as it rose and fell with deep breaths and he could have sworn she seemed lighter on her feet, almost floating down the steps.

"Drown?" Wiven giggled, the fire in his hands solidifying into a luminous serpent that slithered around his palm like a living thing. "I'm coming up for air. This place may not be as beautiful as home, but I like it!"

Maurus watched the two with worry and distaste, his own discomfort a stark contrast to their apparent pleasure. Glancing around, he noted that the other blood elves he spotted, along with a few orcs and forsaken, were the only ones that didn't look somewhat queasy. Instead, they looked invigorated.

"Don't set yourself on fire before you get to enjoy it then. Or me," Maurus grumbled. He reached across Arianna, holding out his waterskin to Wiven. He licked quickly drying lips. "Maybe use one of your other tricks. If anything, this place could use more water."

Wiven's enthusiasm dimmed for a moment, but he snatched the waterskin as he let the fire construct fade and murmured the summoning words, his lips still stretched in a broad smile. It seemed he was happy just using the magic, whatever the purpose.

As Maurus withdrew his arm, Arianna caught his eyes and he tried to school his expression. He hadn't been quick enough, or maybe it was just his tone that gave him away. He felt a thin stab of remorse in his gut at seeing her eyes narrow and her lazy smile fade.

"You never seem as affected as I am," he attempted, trying for a good-natured grumble.

"You're not as experienced as us," Arianna said, her tone surprisingly light.

"Though the elf has been working on that," Mathias said bluntly. Maurus looked between them, head tilting in question.

"Don't tell me you don't find anything familiar about the air?" Mathias asked.

"Powdered 'health' stone," Maurus said, wrinkling his nose. It was already beginning to feel like it did after weeks with a bad cold, his nostrils raw and likely to begin bleeding with little provocation. "So?"

"You have built up a little tolerance, "Arianna said. "Without it, you would have been coughing up your breakfast with the rest of them."

"And here I thought they just had weaker stomachs than me," Maurus muttered as his guts turned with worry instead of the fading nausea. He hadn't really thought the health stones would have lasting effect. He turned to Arianna, his worry flaring into anger, and for a moment thought she looked taken aback at his scowl. "Is that why you've been dumping them all on me? To toughen me up?"

She hesitated for a blink of an eye. "Also so you didn't bleed to death or dropped your insides," she said.

"I can tie a bandage," Maurus said hotly.

"Well, I apologize for saving you money and time," Arianna said, her tone turning flat. "You could have said no."

"I-" Maurus began, but his retort died in his throat, because she was right. He'd accepted them pretty easily and now he directed his irritation at himself for that. He should at least have only taken them when his need was great enough, but instead he'd let her convince him when she insisted that he might as well get back to full strength as soon as possible.

"If it is any comfort, I have never seen ill effects worse than getting sick from those stones," Arianna said, her voice growing languid. She glanced at him, a small teasing smile appearing on her face as she raised an eyebrow and her voice matched her smile when she added: "I doubt you'll begin sprouting more horns or the like, and you were frothing at the mouth already when we met."

"I froth?" Maurus asked, surprised at how easily her words and smile calmed him. He lifted an arm, but stopped himself before he could wipe his mouth. Arianna didn't miss the motion and let out a delicate, amused snort.

"A little. Mostly you're loud and somewhat erratic."

They reached the bottom of the long stairs and turned toward the Horde camp. Maurus looked at Mathias, who shrugged.

"You do use those lungs of yours. And lose sight of things around you at times."

Maurus swallowed "I guess I need to work on that," he said, somewhat glumly. "It's a bad meatshield that isn't there."

"You do draw attention well enough," Mathias said easily as they walked into the camp. "Just learn to stick close to us and we'll bear with the noise and spittle."

"I'll try," Maurus said. He glanced around as they walked between the tents, apparently toward an almost empty area some ways ahead. "I'm not the attention-grabber around here though."

Unlike most of the newcomers, Maurus' little group garnered some attention, especially from the long procession of soldiers and casters that walked past them in the opposite direction alongside kodo's laden with supplies and siege equipment. Eyes narrowed when they fell on Ash, who loped around the feet of their group, skull-like head close to the ground like an eager wolf-pup picking up trails in spring. The gazes grew no gentler when they trailed over the rest of them and Maurus' ears twitched with each occasional dark muttering that reached them. Only a minority showed such open hostility, but the weight of the glares was enough that Maurus felt himself tense in case someone decided get physical.

"They don't exactly look thrilled," he muttered.

Despite no doubt having heard all the murmurs much more clearly than Maurus did, Arianna shrugged. "Foreign lands, crawling with demons. They're bound to be nervous. I doubt they'll try anything, they know they need everyone they can get. And there are lots of us."

She nodded to her left and Maurus spotted a small group of robed orcs and forsaken, crouched around a fire at the center of a circle of tents. Various demons stood or lay around them.

"I think you underestimate the enthusiasm of some of us," Maurus replied, not missing the looks that wandered between the warlocks and his own little group. He smiled half-heartedly and nodded at a very impressive trophy pole rising above a cluster of tents, festooned with hides and skulls, among them red, coarse pelts and misshapen orc skulls. "Savages, remember?"

She looked at him skeptically and he realized she was vastly more confident in the restraint of the people in the camp than he was. "Please be a little careful?" he sighed.

Her skepticism morphed into a confident smirk, with an edge that was slightly similar to Wiven's smile.

"If someone wishes to die, I'll oblige them," she said, rolling her fingers once before shadows shifted weirdly across her hand, tinged with purple light. Maurus huffed out a breath, eyes following the play of shadow and purple.

"You should follow your own advice," he said flatly, nodding at Wiven as he returned the now full waterskin. Arianna's eyes flicked to Wiven as he again summoned fire, setting tongues of flame to dance around his hand. Her smirk faltered, and she closed her fingers into a fist, extinguishing the light she'd summoned.

"You should save it for the demons anyway," Maurus said, his tone gentler than before.

"I have enough to spare," Arianna said. Her posture changed though, her back straightening and her moves becoming less loose. Maurus could also hear the audible change as she made an effort to take more controlled, slightly shallower breaths.

"Then put it to practical use. Track," Mathias cut in. He continued in a less serious tone: "Turning the magic to that instead of frying our allies will make the lynch mob less likely."

Arianna glanced at Mathias, an eyebrow raised, before she shifted her gaze to Maurus. He shrugged, the gesture nonchalant.

"I'm with him. I don't want to hit other Horde over the head because the idiots react badly to your light shows."

That made the corner of her mouth turn upwards just slightly.

"I'll get to it when I have a moment."

By the time they'd set up their tents, in an area only just vacated by the throng of people they'd passed on their way through the camp, Arianna picked up the trail. Though it eased Maurus' and Mathias' worries, she could still only give them the general direction of 'west', directly towards the scarred and half-broken walls of Hellfire Citadel and the dreadlord might simply be further west. If they'd been assigned the regiments that were going out to surround the Citadel, Arianna might have been able to triangulate, as she called it, but seeing as they weren't, they would only know when they captured the Citadel.

It was an undertaking Maurus couldn't help but dread.

For now though, they had little to do, except for Wiven, who'd placed in front of a barrel and told conjure water. The other three had received no orders other than to be ready in case of attack and the camp was peaceful, in defiance of what Maurus had expected of Outland, so Arianna set off to find the colleagues she'd mentioned. Maurus tagged along in spite of her token protests while Mathias stayed behind.

The group they wanted proved more elusive than Maurus had expected however, and it took most of the day to simply get directions.

"This would have gone smoother without you," Arianna muttered, though with little heat, as she and Maurus ducked out from another large tent, leaving the muggy, sweaty, beer-stinking air behind them. She turned and followed Ash, her steps much more purposeful now that she finally had a specific goal in mind.

Maurus wiped drops of beer from his muzzle and asked: "Really?"

She sighed irritably. "I think you the sight of you made some rats go to ground."

Maurus sidestepped a large orc with heavy braids, who'd passed Ash with such force that the demon growled at him, and answered: "And why is that?"

Arianna sniffed and gave him a look, her eyes lingering on his mail and pauldrons. "You may look mercenary," she said, "but you still don't seem the sort that appreciates the more subtle methods of war."

"I'm not against fighting smart. And fooling demons suits me just fine," Maurus said. He recalled some of the conversations he'd overheard, more or less idle talk about ways to crack Hellfire Citadel and muttered: "But there are some weapons that shouldn't be used."

"Which ones?" Arianna asked, glancing between Maurus' weapons and the top of her staff, where the crystal still shone brighter than it had anywhere but the caves on the edge of Ashenvale. The question had a note of deliberate derision, but Maurus doubted she was as disinterested as she appeared.

'Why'd I say that?' he thought and shook his head, irritation mixing with old shame and a fresh worry.

Arianna shrugged at his silence and said: "Well, you can rest easy. Considering that we want to occupy the Citadel, I think plague and poison will remain in the cauldrons."

Maurus' ears twitched and he swallowed, actions Arianna didn't miss, judging by the curious glint in her eyes. He shook his head again and muttered: "Leave it?"

"I'm not exactly enthusiastic about disease either," Arianna said, a soft undertone to her voice.

"All the more reason to let it lie," he replied tightly. Arianna considered him carefully, expression growing slightly colder, but that did not make him any more eager to discuss the subject and she didn't pick up the conversation either.

They continued through the camp in silence until Ash stopped and sat down next to a moderately sized, box-shaped tent, completely unremarkable as far as Maurus could see, on the edge of a square of open land. A completely wizened forsaken sat beside the closed tent-flap, looking at them with empty eye-sockets.

"Blades?" he asked disinterestedly, tilting his head and giving Maurus another blank look.

"Peak," Arianna answered. Maurus wondered whether there was a deeper meaning or the passwords were wholly random. It was still a little odd to him, seeing that the reality of 'cloak and dagger'-business fit so well with his assumptions.

"Guests," the forsaken called through the tent flap and waved them through.

The tent was lower than Maurus would have liked, and he was unable to stand upright in the dimly lit tent. The air was even hotter than outside and pungent with the smell of burnt herbs, food and drink and something distinctive he'd begun to associate with warlocks and mages. That made a lot of sense considering the tent's occupants. A mix of forsaken, trolls and orcs were scattered around the tent, two thirds of them with either a mug or a pipe in their hands. Most of them were clad in robes that betrayed their arcane talent, like the staffs at their sides, though leather and mail marked four of the occupants as a more martial sort. A succubus had draped herself over an orc in one corner and there was an imp juggling fireballs in front of a group of four gathered on one side of the tent, something that made Maurus glance worriedly at the dry canvas walls. All gazes turned to the entrance and a sullen hush fell over the tent when they trailed from Arianna to Maurus.

Maurus returned the looks he got with equal heat, though he remained silent, unsure of how to proceed. Arianna had not such qualms, striding toward the central ring of people, seven practitioners and an orc in worn leathers gathered around a mess of papers, maps and letters from what Maurus could see.

"Carver, Croaker," Arianna said as she reached the circle, nodding at the leather-clad orc and a female forsaken who's white robes were lined with pale purple. Both nodded back, and there the air grew lighter at the acknowledgement, as most of the other people inside lost interest. Maurus tilted his head at the odd names.

"Weaver," the forsaken, Croaker apparently, replied around the long pipe in her mouth, returning the nod. She was one of the more desiccated forsaken Maurus had seen, looking like a corpse that had been preserved by heat and sand. The only thing revealing where she looked was the glint of light in the back of her empty eye sockets. Carver nodded as well and gestured for Arianna to sit, though he kept his eyes on Maurus, small eyes glaring out between his greasy, long hair.

"Who Milky ther'?" he asked. He spoke so lazily that the words almost completely merged together. Maurus' eyes flicked down to the white fur on his muzzle, then back up to the orc. He was already beginning to dislike that one.

"Mau-" he began, but Arianna spoke over him, tone wry: "Milky will suffice."

Maurus gave Arianna a incredulous look and bent down to sit next to her and Ash.

"We haven't given you permission to sit, tauren," a clear, boyish voice snapped and Maurus froze in a crouch. The voice hardly seemed to fit the thoroughly rotted forsaken in scarlet who'd spoken and the complete lack on expression on his noseless face was equally at odds with his impatient tone.

Maurus raised his eyebrows, caught the forsaken's eyes, then dropped down onto the ground and crossed his arms. "I don't being told what to do. Especially not by someone I don't even know," he said lowly. His words seemed to offend about half the room, as if he'd broken some rule.

"Then you should go where you are welcome," the forsaken replied coldly, still refusing to give any kind of name. He shifted his attention to Arianna. "Exactly why have you brought an outsider? And a tauren at that?"

Maurus bristled and his fingers tightened on his arm, but he kept quiet. As much as he wanted to give both the forsaken and that orc a good smack, it would probably reflect badly on Arianna. Not to mention that he might just get fried, cursed or mindblasted before he even reached the rude bastards.

"He mostly brought himself," she said unconcernedly.

"Why didn't you lose 'im?" asked Carver. "We're more in th'open now, but tha's no reason fo' no caution."

"Relax, Carver, Zolan said he was alright," Croaker admonished. That seemed to sooth some tempers slightly, though Maurus still felt more tolerated than welcome. Croaker gestured to Arianna and said: "Please."

"As you just might know, the two of us and Mathias, a forsaken, are on a hunt," Arianna said. "I'm assuming that not just Croaker and Carver know about the debacle in Ashenvale and the Barrens?"

"It is sort of our business to know of the Legion's movements," said the forsaken who'd protested Maurus' presence. He seemed to be speaking for everyone, so Maurus mentally dubbed him Speaker, forgoing several less flattering names like Noseless and Scarlet. Several of the people in the circle glanced at Maurus again, seemingly reevaluating him.

"Earth'n Ring?" Carver asked.

Before Maurus could respond, Arianna snorted. "Hardly. He's sensitive enough. Had he been shaman or druid, I doubt he'd have put up with me."

"I'm surprised I do," Maurus said, dryly. His speaking seemed to irritate some of the people around him and he took slight satisfaction in it. He added, more seriously: "Now, the quicker any of you gives us what help you can in locating our dreadlord, the quicker you'll be free of me and back to your skulking business."

A forsaken and two of the seated orcs snorted scornfully. Speaker again said what seemed to be on their minds: "Seeing as we are apparently going to tolerate the tauren, we might as well get this over with. But really, finding a particular demon? In Outland?"

"It did strike me as somewhat ambitious when I read your letter," Croaker said neutrally as she looked at Arianna. "You hardly seemed to have anything to go on, without even a name."

"Not that it matters much, because you are in the wrong place. No dreadlord has passed through the Portal," Speaker said. He added snidely: "With how alert we are, I think we'd notice."

"There are some things I didn't mention in the letter," Arianna said, lifting the piece of horn from her backpack and setting it down gently in front of her. Ash's head jerked up and sniffed the air curiously. The rest of the practitioners seated around them looked taken aback.

"Ah, I thought you were very vague," Croaker said and a small smile appeared on her face. "This does change things a bit. As does the fact that we have a name for you. Ven'Zarul seems to be who you're looking for, a low-ranking commander, according to the captives. And Zolan sends his regards."

"He's here?" Maurus asked, trading pleased smiles with Arianna at the news. It might not be much, but every little bit made the search easier.

Croaker shook her head. "He sent a message. Arrived with a gaggle of orcs, trolls and goblins who'd gone by zeppelin."

"Still, no free demon has passed the Portal," Speaker insisted, but his gaze remained locked on the piece of horn.

"This tells me otherwise," Arianna said firmly, running her fingers across the smooth horn. "I can see you know what this is and you are very welcome to corroborate my findings."

"Sloppy dreadlord," someone murmured, eliciting a few half-hearted chuckles. One of the warlocks, a female orc in loud purple robes, reached out for the horn, closing her eyes as she began the tracking spell Maurus had come to recognize easily.

"Zolan and his men are good," Maurus said firmly, jaw tensing at slight to Zolan's skills. He got three nods in response, one from a forsaken he'd hardly noticed, one from Croaker and, more surprisingly, one from Speaker.

"More worryingly, Ven'Zarul can apparently shapechange," Arianna said, bringing the conversation back on track. The words instantly stopped the chuckles. A heavy pressure settled on the room as all levity fled the room and all eyes again fell on Arianna.

"That's nonse-" Speaker began, but Arianna interrupted him:

"He was in Ratchet for days. There was nothing else in that direction except water. And how else would a dreadlord cross the ocean and get through the Portal without notice? We may have traitors and mercenaries in our ranks, but last I checked, none of the cults had their own ships and even pirates and smugglers aren't stupid enough to transport demons. The Scourge is as hostile to them as we are. Now he is somewhere to the west, maybe the Citadel."

A hush fell over the room after that declaration, leaving only the low buzz coming from outside and the quiet murmur of the orc warlock as the only sounds inside.

"As'f traitors weren't 'nough," Carver said eventually. "Any limits t'changin'?"

Arianna shrugged.

"This is going higher up then," Speaker said, all traces of irritation and derision replaced with seriousness. "Then they'll have to decide what to think and how to handle it. Anything else?"

"He is on this side of the Portal. South-southwest," the orc warlock murmured, opening her red eyes and lifting her hand from the horn. Maurus felt his lips pull up into a smug smirk and out the corner of his eye he saw a similar expression on Arianna's face.

Croaker cleared her throat, a sound like a death rattle. "I can give you directions to the ones who were around for Ven's battles."

"That wouldn't hurt. We have more need for free movement though," Arianna replied. "Hunting is hard if we get stuck."

Croaker glanced at Speaker, then at Maurus, and he wasn't sure he liked her speculative look. "Zolan said you have some ability and quite a set of lungs. We might be able to think of something," she said vaguely.

"We'd appreciate that," Maurus said politely. Again, it seemed he'd spoken out of turn, though the room seemed less ruffled this time.

"Now, as the matters that concern the tauren has been dealt with, I think it's time he leaves," Speaker said. His tone was almost completely businesslike, but Maurus was sure he detected a hint of satisfaction in the dismissal. He narrowed his eyes at Speaker, then very deliberately turned to Arianna and tilted his head in question.

"It'll take a little while. Keep Mathias company," she said. At the flat look he gave her, she rolled her eyes and added, voice airy and amiable: "Or, if you must, find something to entertain yourself within sight. I'll make it quick."

Maurus rose, nodded at the people around him, receiving nods from some, even Speaker, and turned for the exit, wondering at Speaker's very odd mix of seriousness, honest acknowledgements and contemptuousness.

"Well-trained, that one," someone murmured as he lifted the tent flap.

"He's not a dog," Arianna said, voice flat, and her defense stopped him from turning around and violently correcting the one who'd spoken. Instead he let the tent flap fall behind him, just making out her addition of: "He's courteous, sensible and more than capable of ripping out your crumbling spine."

Cheered by Arianna's words, he struck up a conversation with the forsaken outside. Kristoff, as his name turned to be, hid a hint of amiability under his exterior of apathy and seemed to find it funny that he'd named the forsaken Speaker. He didn't like him either, mentioning that he always acted like he his opinion was that of everyone, but Kristoff appeared to respect him.

As they waited, people began to gather in the square in front of them and eventually Maurus joined them to see what it was about. It turned out they were waiting for a trio of executions. Two orcs and a forsaken stood, chained and restrained by two grunts each a couple of yards from a chopping block that was a spattered with almost black red. Next to the block their lives would end on stood a female orc, clad in heavy steel plate, a long, heavy sword resting on her left shoulderpad, patiently waiting, though Maurus didn't quite know what. Maybe just for the right amount of people to watch, because by the time Arianna joined him some time later, looking tired and irritable, the executions had begun, with no cue that Maurus had seen. The forsaken and one orc had been decapitated, their crimes of treason, sabotage and espionage called out to the crowd by the executioner before they met their end, something they both did with surprising stoicism.

There was a sense that the last orc was the worst of the three. As he was pushed towards the block, the crowd was quiet, by Horde standards, but the angry, grim voices of the spectators still merged into an angry drone like that of an enormous hive of stirred bees, making it hard to hear the curses thrown out by the last condemned orc. In spite of his fury, it was obvious that he knew the battle was lost, as he only struggled half-heartedly against the two grunts holding him, but it was just as clear that his pride didn't allow him to go quietly, hence the curses.

Maurus frowned as he regarded the orc, whose face was half-hidden by the heavy braids swinging around his head. What was visible was swollen from day-old blows and a tusk had been chipped.

"Haven't we seen-" he asked, turning to Arianna and trailing off as he realized that she couldn't quite see over the crowd. He had no trouble as long as he raised his long neck as much as he could, but she only just reached his face when his head hung low and the people in front of them were tall.

"Hm?" she asked, eyebrow raised in impatient question.

In answer, Maurus grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her into the air, ignoring her surprised gasp and finishing his question this time: "Where have I seen that orc before?"

She twisted in his grip and when she didn't answer immediately he placed her on his shoulder before pointing to the orc. Despite the beating he'd taken, the face was familiar.

Though she fit remarkably well on Maurus' broad shoulder, Arianna sat stiffly for a moment while someone behind them muttered in irritation about not being able to see. Then she took hold of his mane, harder than he thought necessary, and grew more relaxed. Her fingers were hot on his skin, not quite as feverish as when she worked her craft, but close.

"I wonder," she said, her voice unconcerned, but not as impatient as she had seemed a moment ago. He felt her weight shift, tugging hard on his hair as she leaned forward a little. "We see a lot of people."

"I don't remember just everyone, this one's recent," Maurus said, "and stop pulling out my hair."

"You put me here. I have to keep from falling off somehow," she said lightly. Maurus snorted and wrapped an arm around her legs, again noting the strong heat of her limbs. She leaned back a little, letting his hair go but letting her hand remain on his neck.

"Now you're safe," he said. "Now, who is that orc?"

Before she could answer, a hush fell over the crowd again. The orc was pushed down onto his knees and his curses fell away too, though Maurus could see from his expression that it wasn't from fear and the silence only lasted a few heartbeats.

"Grollun. For gutless murder, bloody betrayal of friends and kin and treason against the Horde, your life is forfeit," the executioner called out, her rough voice ringing clear across the crowd. Maurus scowled at the traitor and a few among the crowd shouted obscenities at Grollun.

The kneeling orc didn't react to the angry shouts though. He simply glared daggers at his executioner as his head was forced onto the block and spat, words loud if a little slurred from the beating: "You dimwitted dogs. I have done none of those things and you will learn that to your own regret. You will get lost between shadow and light and the ancestors will shun you for unjustly taking my life."

Maurus bared his teeth at the vile curse and the crowd erupted with snarls and growls. His heart beat faster as the sword fell in a final arc of steel. The sound of the sword slicing through the orc's thick throat was lost in the noise of the crowd, as was the thud Maurus knew must have sounded as the sword imbedded itself in the block. The head dropped to the red earth, and the spray of blood painted the face like warpaint, which fell in thick drops when the executioner lifted the head by the braids.

"This is the fate of our enemies!" she shouted and Maurus joined the crowd as it roared in answer. It was a long moment of primal unity, and Maurus felt like his heart beat in tune with the other spectators, strong and steady. Then the executioner lowered the head and the moment ended, the crowd quieting again. The show was over, though Maurus still followed the severed head with his eyes, again trying to make the connection.

"I missed it, thanks to you and your whore."

This time Maurus didn't ignore the grumbling behind him, feeling a hot surge of fury, a fraction of what he felt in battle, and whirled around to face the speaker. The sudden motion cut off Arianna's low, incomprehensible murmur as she almost slid of his shoulder and her fingers tightening on his hair again didn't improve his mood.

The pale troll coming into view looked taken aback by the reaction and he didn't manage to collect himself before Maurus' free hand darted out, grabbing the troll's turquoise robe and drawing him so close his tusks almost touched Maurus' muzzle.

"You say something?" he growled darkly, staring into the troll's green eyes. Ash let out a menacing rumble from his place at Maurus' left hoof.

"No," the troll muttered sullenly, after an instant's hesitation, no real remorse in his voice. Maurus shook him violently, sparing a brief moment's attention to roll the shoulder Arianna was on, interrupting her new string of demonic. Then he pushed the troll hard, sending him stumbling to the ground with a grunt.

"Good. Keep it that way," Maurus said, stepping past the troll. Now that the execution was over and the grunts were hauling the body away, there would be no more opportunities to get another look. He'd just have to remember the face and see if he could place it later. He turned his head to Arianna, who was half-turned, looking back over her shoulder. He smirked as he said sarcastically: "Good that you held back on the curses."

The words had hardly passed his lips when Arianna hissed: "Kneel!"

The note of command in her voice had him reacting without any conscious thought. His knee hit the ground just before he heard brittle, shattering chime and felt a dulled impact against his back. The air around him instantly dropped in temperature, though it didn't become much colder than a chilly morning in Desolace.

Before he managed any response, Arianna rattled off a rapid spell. Against his arm and his neck, he felt the hot flash of her magic running through her and a whisper of a scream writhed in the air, accompanied by a short flash of green from Arianna's staff. A real shout of fright met his ears, the voice almost unrecognizable from the sullen mutter the troll had spoken in before and Maurus spun again, just in time to see the troll run in blind terror directly away from him, crossing the dirt path and tumbling into a tent he failed to notice because he was looking over his shoulder.

Maurus knew the fear spell had only lasted moments, but the growl of the tent's owner promised that the troll would be occupied a while longer. The hands reaching out to grab the troll was a sign that the he wasn't getting out without bruises.

"You were saying?" Arianna said slowly, voice lazily smug yet tinged with something predatory.

"An earlier spell might have been good," he said grudgingly, though he was grinning as he watched the troll get shoved again. That might teach him a little self-restraint. "But the others didn't sound as harmless. Think I saved us a little trouble, all in all."

He glanced up at Arianna. There was something languid and catlike about her posture, relaxed, pleased, her hand a light, hot weight on his neck. It was a stark contrast to the chill he could feel seeping through his armor and into his back.

He reached a hand around and found the metal of his shield, cold, but not as painfully freezing as he'd expected. He smiled at Arianna.

"Seems it holds up to stronger stuff than imp fire. You do good work," he said simply. He had neither expected his shield to be necessary inside the camp nor that it would have been much use on his back, but this little incident had him feeling thankful that he was in full gear and even more thankful for Arianna's enchanting.

"Yes," she said, without a trace of modesty.

The troll was finally pushed out from the camp he'd stumbled into, ruffled and looking darkly furious, wincing slightly from the shove. His gaze went briefly to Maurus and Arianna before he walked away with as much dignity as he could muster.

"I don't think you need the vantage point anymore," Maurus said as the troll disappeared in the crowds. "You want down?"

"I wouldn't mind if you spared me the walk," she said. Her nails played along his neck, a pleasant feeling except it seemed like she was scratching a pet.

"I'm not your mount," Maurus said mildly as he bumped his shoulder before letting go of her legs and leaning a little to the side. Despite his efforts, she slid gracefully down along him to the ground.

"I guess that is true."

"I thought you didn't find me a comfortable perch," he responded, recalling their climb in Ashenvale as they began walking.

"There is quite a difference between clinging to you over a fatal drop and being on your shoulder, here. It would have been a little different had your pauldrons been like those of the grunts' or that executioner's."

He glanced at some of the red-armored orcs around, who'd made no move to interrupt his little scuffle or the troll's following thrashing, and snorted.

"That would have been bad," he said.

"Quite an understatement," Arianna said dryly, as they made their way along a road on the edge of the camp towards their own tents.

"Reminds me of sitting down in the wrong place in Desolace. Undignified for both me and that poor kodo's bones," Maurus said, his throat rumbling with slight mirth at the memory.

Arianna gave him a look and an amused smile. "You are not the most elegant of creatures," she said, almost hiding her mirth.

"I am at a disadvantage sometimes," he agreed, "compared to you skinny folk."

Whatever she had been about to answer was drowned out by the loud, deep drone of a horn, five short bursts of sound alerting of an imminent attack. Raising his gaze from Arianna's face, he looked around for any sign of the enemy. There was a haze of red dust to the northwest, though he couldn't be sure it wasn't just the wind throwing it off one of the steep, craggy hills ahead.

"You could always lift me up to see again," Arianna said in response to his searching gaze, as they hurried toward the banner they'd been instructed to gather around when battle approached. Nervous energy, a mix quivering fear and buzzing excitement, flared up within him, intensifying when the leathery flap of wings drew his attention to the sky and the creatures there. The windriders speeding past overhead were a welcome sight, but it also drew his attention to the flock of winged beings flying towards the camp from the north, hard to see against the weird sky. They looked larger than succubi at first glance, at least many of them did and for one panicked moment, Maurus thought it was an army of dreadlords approaching them.

"Not letting you get snatched up by those. What are they?" he asked, pointing with his mace toward the demons in the sky.

"Succubi. And fiends."

"Worse or better than the blues?"

"Not quite sure. We'll see."

"I knew we wouldn't get time to get used to Outland in peace," Maurus said, gritting his teeth, his heart beating in tune with the battle drums rising around them.

"I think this is what it will be like," Arianna said, as they ran past the path leading to their tents. "Besides, I thought you hated the waiting."

Maurus snorted. He wasn't quite so sure that the uncertain waiting was so bad anymore, at least not compared to the chaos of fighting demons, and he could only imagine it would get worse from here on out. He doubted he would get used to it. Keeping an eye on the sky, he gripped his weapon and shield tighter, kept running and tried to swallow down his fear.

Well, better late than never is what I'm telling myself. Can you believe "I'm late so might as well not" actually occurred to me? But I persevered. This is getting finished some day!

In the incredibly unlikely case that I have a reader named Scarlet, I will just say I have nothing against the name. I just doubt a forsaken would like it, what with the Scarlet Crusade in Tirisfal and the Plaguelands.

Please rate review. Any input, be it praise, criticism or grammar nazism will be appreciated.