I own nothing of this franchise. I just played some of the games.

Chasing Through Hell

Bitter Encounters

Maurus panted, his open mouth tasting faintly of copper and his flaring nostrils itching with the smell of smoke. Each rise of his chest tugged painfully on his left lung and his muscles ached. Again, he cursed his recklessness and the fel orc who'd taken advantage of it with equal vehemence. He shouldn't even be breathing hard from this much. Arianna and Mathias certainly weren't. Though if Maurus was perfectly honest, they did have an easier time navigating the crowds than he did with his bulk.

Ash was ahead, nimbly avoiding the others on the road, his head twitching like he was constantly noticing new scents. It was a good thing he was so fast and agile, because he garnered plenty of glowers and hissed curses as he passed and more than once, someone drew weapons before Arianna claimed ownership.

"Are you sure he'll lead us to him?" Mathias asked, his voice low, steady and severe. Maurus felt a flash of irritation. When he'd called, Mathias had joined them without a word, almost taking off without them, but now, half-way through camp, he was doubting the felhound's tracking? Arianna seemed to be of the same opinion.

"I thought you'd learned by now," she snapped, rolling her eyes.

"I've learned to trust your magic," Mathias said, ducking around pair of orcs going the opposite direction. His gaze never left Ash. "He's a demon."

Arianna sniffed derisively. Maurus opened his mouth to give Mathias an annoyed retort, though breathlessness and a measure of agreement kept him from speaking.

"And if he tracks like a bloodhound, we could go all over the camp before finding the demon."

Maurus grunted and turned his head slightly, to Arianna. "He's got a point. I'd be glad if we didn't run more than we have to."

His chest and the stabbing in his side heartily agreed.

"We can also stop every hundred yards so I can track properly," Arianna said, a little testily. "I can't do it on the move, I'll run into something."

As if to prove her right, a group of orcs and trolls came running towards them, filling almost the entire path and they all had to stick close to the tents on the right to avoid a collision.

"Well, that's easy then," Maurus said as they began moving again. For the second time that day, he grabbed and lifted Arianna off her feet. She tensed and kicked out for the short moment it took her to realize what was happening. She snorted out a breath as he put her on his right shoulder, clamping an arm securely around her legs.

"No need to worry about sudden impact now, right?" he huffed. Thankfully, it didn't feel like her added weight would make the run much worse.

"It gets steadily harder to believe that you aren't a beast of burden, with how naturally you take to being ridden," Arianna said dryly, resting one hand easily on Maurus' neck. He snorted in amusement and regretted it as it pulled at the inside of his chest.

Mathias turned his head for the barest instant, only enough to get a quick glimpse of them.

"Less banter, more tracking," he snapped. Maurus thought he heard the barest whisper of amusement in his voice though.

Though Maurus was certain Arianna was glaring at the forsaken, her murmur and the tangible heat in her limbs told him that she did as he asked. For a while, it seemed Mathias' worry had been unfounded though. Despite her periodic tracking spells, Arianna let Ash keep leading them, seemingly agreeing with his nose.

But as they entered the shadow of the Portal, Arianna tensed and two intersections later, she directed them to the left. Maurus didn't miss the hint of smugness that crept into Mathias' eager grin or the confused tilt to Ash's head as they abandoned the trail he'd been on.

Further into the shadow of the Portal, Maurus noticed differences in the air. A whine and grinding of machinery stood out from the usual noise of the camp and as he recognized those sounds, he became aware of another familiar scent: Smoke, oily and dirty, unpleasant in an entirely different way than the usual scents of Outland.

'Of course they're here too,' he thought as he approached the cluster of very distinct, dark tents ahead. They clung low to the ground, but what they lacked in height they made up for in width, even the smallest of them covering as much ground as some of the larger orc tents. They were made from an odd, matte material that he didn't recognize, though as he got closer, he noticed that at least some of them weren't naturally black but rather discolored by soot and oil. What looked like scrap metal littered the ground around and between the tents, like this was where all blacksmithing projects came to die, though the large, mechanical frames towering over the tents were testament to the fact that not everything there was useless junk, as were the worrying piles of innocent looking red sticks and black spheres.

There was a noticeable bit of open ground around the group of tents and the odd crater showed how prudent it was for the rest of the camp to keep their distance.

As they approached, thirteen goblin bruisers gathered, blocking their path and staring at them with suspicion in their beady little eyes. They were each four feet of green, mean greed, hidden under heavy metal and leather and the way they lifted their three-foot clubs showed that their intent was to hurt, not to intimidate.

"Business?" one of them called, high-pitched and challenging. Beside him, two of them made what Maurus could only think of as practice swings, one low, the other at the exact height of Maurus' knees. Behind them, Maurus saw two more goblins who trained long rifles on Arianna as she barked an order at Ash. The felhound came to a skidding halt just a few feet from the goblins, only then noticing them as he lifted his head from the trail he'd evidently picked up again.

"You're in the way," Mathias hissed, in a tone that sliced through the noise of the goblin camp, stopping in front of the goblins. As Maurus walked up behind him, his lung and legs thanking him for the respite, Arianna added: "There's a demon in your camp."

The goblin who'd first spoken leaned backward to look at up Arianna, before shifting his gaze to Ash as the demon sniffed curiously at the air.

"Not yet and it'll be all over our camp if he tries to get in," the goblin answered, patting his club.

"Not that," Mathias said, gesturing sharply to Ash. He pointed into the camp. "In there."

"Eh, I think we'd have noticed that," the goblin answered skeptically. Mathias took another step forward and the goblins bristled.

"Sure, come closer, dead guy," the goblin said, showing teeth as a bit of eagerness crept into his voice.

"We're here to help," Arianna said, her voice smooth except for a timbre of irritation and urgency that Maurus wasn't sure the goblins would notice. "There is someone very dangerous in your camp."

"You could be dangerous to us. You could see or take something you shouldn't," the goblin replied.

Mathias' fingers were twitching, though he was neither drawing his sword nor lashing out, however much he looked like he wanted to. Maurus himself bristled at the suggestion he might be a thief and felt a muscle tighten in his jaw at the delay. He relaxed as he got an idea.

"You could escort us," he said, tapping the small pouch at his belt, making the coins within jingle. It was only a fraction of his money, most back at the camp, but it was still quite a few pieces of silver. He was really hoping Wiven was as trustworthy as he'd seemed or that he at least couldn't find the rest of the money if he wasn't. "If we're wrong, we've wasted our time and you're richer. If we're right, we could use the help."

The goblin made a thoughtful sound. Then shrugged, held out a hand and sounded much more pleasant when he said: "Sure then. But keep the demon under control."

Maurus dropped the coin pouch in the goblin's hand and the goblins parted as he tucked it away. Ash sprang forward at a word from Arianna.

"Finally," Mathias muttered as he and Maurus followed, along with about half the goblins. They ran between the odd tents, the harsh, grating sound of goblin artifice paining Maurus' ears. Several goblins locked warily at Ash as he passed and he spotted at least two who hurriedly drew back from piles of black powder or more sticks of explosives. Others looked simply curious, lifting goggles or full, metal masks to see them better and the odd non-goblin seemed more surprised at their haste than by their presence.

"What's she doing there?" the leading bruiser asked Maurus, looking up at Arianna. They rounded a corner, turning south through the goblin area as he added: "She a cripple?"

Maurus didn't need to look to see the affronted look on Arianna's face and the flash of heat against his arm told him she was doing magic again, even though he couldn't hear her murmur over the noise. He snorted.

"Not in any meaningful way," he said wryly and received a sharp tug on his hair, which he almost welcomed, seeing as it seemed to dim the rest of his pains for a short moment. "She's tracking. Running ruins her focus."

The goblin sent a meaningful look towards Ash as the demon leapt over a low display of boots that had all manner of odds and ends bolted to them, drawing a curse from the owner. "I thought that was its job."

"Better safe than sorry," he said, voice harder than before, noting absently that Arianna was still in agreement with Ash. He was surprised when the goblin turned his head to him, a hint of confusion in his eyes. Then he recalled who he was speaking to. The only situations that expression could apply to goblins were in relation to their wealth or if something absolutely had to explode. He waved a hand at the goblin and he shrugged in response. He probably decided it was just another meaningless figure of speech.

Ash finally turned to a tent, a little over a hundred yards from open space around the goblin camp. Unlike most of the tents, there was nothing even resembling a stand beside it, not even a table on which to exhibit wares. And the tent was silent. From all other sides, waves of sound assaulted Maurus' ears, but the only sounds coming from the direction of the tent were the sounds coming from behind it.

Maurus had moved to the front during the last leg of the run, eager to have battle rage chase away his fatigue and pain and he was the first to reach the tent flap after Ash. He'd had never been very stealthy, and he'd learned that when being silent was out of the question, being loud and sudden was the next best thing. So he drew his mace and shield while Arianna slipped down from his shoulder and as her feet touched the ground, he pushed aside the black, smooth cloth of the tent and lunged inside. It was only as he did so that he realized that entering a goblin tent, of all things, with intent to surprise, was verging on suicidal.

Luckily, nothing exploded. It should have been lighter though. Whatever you said about goblins, much of their work was very intricate and it was impossible to create such things without proper light. In spite of that, there were only a handful of lanterns inside, providing weak illumination. Shadows clung stubbornly to the edges of the tent and wrapped around tables and benches, strewn with tools and torn schematics. At the center of the room was a huge blocky shape, a jumbled patchwork of tanks and pipes, metallic grey except for where the darkness pooled in its crevices and openings.

He noticed the thick smell of wet blood the instant after all that entered his mind and it made him se the lumps dotting the ground around the machine for what they were: At least a dozen goblins, their blood pooling on the floor. A few more lay around the edge of the tent, bruisers by the looks of it, the closest three mere feet from him, their throats cut so deep they had almost lost their heads. He felt an abrupt rolling nausea and his eyes stung for reasons entirely unrelated to the dust and smoke in the camp. Dead goblins, again.

'No. This is time is not your fault,' he told himself as he stepped further into the room. Arianna and Mathias came in after him, followed by the goblins, who cursed at the sight, some with anger, some with such grief that their squeaky voices broke.

Ash was at the center of the room, slowly stepping in a wide circle around the odd machine, growling furiously but he froze when the object of his attention stepped into view, half-way between the machine and the opposite tent wall.

It was a tall, robust man, clad in brown, worn leathers and a hooded, ragged cloak. His hood hid most of his face and the strip of cloth around his mouth and throat concealed even more, so only a small area around his eyes were visible. He stood slightly hunched, but like he was unused to it and he could have been mistaken for forsaken, thanks to the heavily discolored skin around his green eyes. But the eyes had none of the unnatural light of the undead and the discoloration looked more like bruises than rot. So, with how intently Maurus was studying the man, it was impossible to mistake him for the dead, not least because he could see him breathe. Lastly, Maurus noted his weapons, two short swords. They were sheathed at his hips and he looked untouched by the carnage, but Maurus had no doubt he'd caused it. He was too at ease to be a bystander, even if he had been Horde.

"Ah, witnesses," he sighed. He sounded neither worried nor sincere, but more like he was making a careless observation. Maurus' eyes widened and his heart began beating even faster than it already did. Despite the warmth in the tent, he felt cold creep up his spine. The voice was different, but the inflection and smooth confidence was unmistakable and had it been a little deeper, it would have matched the voice that mocked him in his sleep.

"Break. Him," the goblin leader snarled and the bruisers began closing on the man, who in turn began walking backwards, though without apparent concern. Arianna spoke a demonic word, an order to Ash and the felhound took a cautious step forward.

"Him?" Mathias asked. His voice was as quiet and ominous as the moment before the axe falls and he looked ready to explode into violence. Maurus nodded.

"We need-" he began, as Mathias started forward, but the disguised dreadlord cut him off, banishing any lingering doubts about his identity by letting out a string of guttural words. Maurus realized with a start that, while Arianna's spoke Eredun like he spoke Orcish, the dreadlord spoke it like he spoke Taurahe. The first few words halted Ash in his tracks and as goblins raised their clubs and charged, the dreadlord seamlessly shifted into a different incantation, ending it as he swept out his arm in a half-circle.

A wave of faint green mist rolled forward and from one moment to the next, thousands of large, black insects coalesced from the mist, filling the air with a hellish buzz. The goblins shrieked as the flies swarmed over them, biting and stinging skin and eyes and creeping into mouths, ears and nostrils.

Maurus raised his shield but the flies simply flowed around it, covering his face and neck in a writhing mass of black bodies and a rash of sharp pinpricks spread over him. Mercifully, he managed to clamp his mouth shut, catching a single of the disgusting bugs between his teeth, but he couldn't spit its rancid-tasting remains out without the risk of even more getting in.

He was sickened when he felt the tickling of desperately scrabbling legs and wings as flies pushed themselves into his nostrils. He snorted explosively, dislodging some of the flies, but more immediately took their place.

Half-blinded by the flies and the rapid blinking he did to keep them out of his eyes, he saw the others. The goblins had dropped their weapons in order to use both hands to wipe off the flies, coughing, gagging and spitting furiously all the while. Two were rolling on the floor while swiping at themselves, apparently seeking to crush the bugs that way. Arianna's was coughing and sputtering, swatting at her face with hands that flickered with flame that she seemed unable to get proper hold of thanks to the flies. Maurus couldn't blame her. More than half her skin was covered by the loathsome little things and her robes rolled with the movements of the flies.

Mathias was covered with the flies. He was blinking as often as Maurus and wiped his underarm over his face almost continuously, but his gaze was still fixed on Ven'Zarul.

Through a haze of flies and tears, Maurus saw Ven'Zarul lift his other hand. In it was something red and familiar. As his eyes crinkled, like he was smiling, he passed his other hand over the explosive and Maurus could have sworn he heard the hiss as the fuse caught fire, even if that was impossible with all the noise. His eyes darted to the machine in the center of the room and noted the tell-tale red of more explosives at its base and his blood froze.

He shoved his mace into his belt and breathed deeply through his nose, pushing away the disgust he felt as his nostrils filled with flies. Against his better judgement, he took a step forward, even as Ven'Zarul lobbed the lit explosive at the machine and turned to another opening on that end of the tent.

"Get out!" Maurus bellowed, his shield arm closing around Arianna, pressing her to his chest and clamping his free hand down on Mathias' shoulder. He turned and ran, dragging the two along, while the goblins scrambled to follow.

He leaped outside and he could feel the flies vanishing as he threw himself down onto his side, turning his back to the tent. A shock of pain went through his chest as he hit the ground and he let out a sharp grunt. He felt weight on him as some of the goblins jumped over him and then the explosion came. It was a sharp, short crack that hurt his ears, though that was forgotten when he felt two blows against his back, easily as heavy as the fiends' attacks.

He groaned as he rolled over, feeling something hard poking into his back and looked at the result of the explosion. The tent had collapsed, the supports blown out from it and fire was slowly getting a hold of it, though the dark fabric seemed to melt rather than burn. There were rents in the fabric and as his eyes darted around, he noticed that holes had been torn in the surrounding tents too and over the ringing in his ears and the noise, he thought he heard wails of pain.

Between Maurus and the ruined tent lay three bruisers, one of them just beside the tent, half of his face missing. As Maurus got to his hooves, rising from the twisted bits of metal that had hit him, one of the other two stumbled to his feet. The other goblin stayed down, whimpering as blood spread beneath her.

On the other side of the tent from Maurus, Ven'Zarul took off down the path, his head bowed and his back bent. Breathing deep of blood, fire and corrupted air, Maurus summoned up rage, feeling it rush through his body, giving him strength and driving back the aches.

"After him," he barked, setting off after the dreadlord. The words seemed unnecessary, because both his two friends and most of the goblins were moving almost before he finished talking. Only one goblin stayed behind, shouting for healers.

Ven'Zarul was running due south, meeting little resistance from those on the path despite the shouts of the bruisers. Most people hardly reacted, turning to gawk at the most, while some even leapt out of the way rather than making themselves useful as a roadblock and Maurus silently cursed their apathy and cowardice, unable to get a word out between his heaving breaths.

Sadly, the few that seemed willing to intervene were no more use. The dreadlord ducked past those that tried to grab him and delivered a sharp, hard punch to the side of the head of a tauren druid that tried to summon up magic to help. The sight of the edge of the goblin tents brought a small bit of hope to Maurus' chest, but it was dashed just as quickly. Ven'Zarul waved a hand and an unearthly moan sounded, before the five bruisers forming up to block the way collapsed in a heap, which was easily sidestepped.

As Maurus, Arianna and Mathias sprinted across the open stretch of ground, Maurus noted with a flutter of worry that they were rapidly outpacing the goblins, judging by their fading shouts, though if they could just delay the dreadlord, the goblins could catch up, if the other Horde weren't enough help.

Catching him seemed less and less likely though. The thin strip of Horde tents that lay between the goblin camp and the Path of Glory didn't prove more of an obstacle for Ven'Zarul than the goblin camp. It was almost deserted and the orcs and tauren that were there weren't much help. Maurus had no breath to shout for the people to block Ven'Zarul's escape and Arianna's and Mathias shouts seemed to confuse those that heard it more than it jolted them into action. It dawned on Maurus though, as he sidestepped a pair of orcs, that the people around them likely thought it was a conflict between forsaken and blood elves, the most recent and least trusted members of the Horde. As such, they either didn't bother to listen or failed to quite grasp the shouts before it was too late.

The thought didn't make their hesitation any less infuriating.

The Path of Glory came into sight. On the closest side was a loose line of grunts, grim faced warriors in red armor. Most of them were turned toward the Horde camp as their main assignment was to keep the Horde and Alliance separated, to ensure the fragile truce wasn't threatened by hotheads. On the other side of the Path stood a line of Alliance footmen in gleaming, silver armor, mostly dwarves and humans, turned toward the Alliance camp for much the same reason.

"Seize the human!" Arianna called and four of the guards moved to block Ven'Zarul's escape. Maurus would have cheered if he'd had the breath for it, if his lungs had burned less and if he hadn't just seen Ven'Zarul put those goblins to sleep with hardly a word.

The grunts didn't collapse however. Instead of bringing forth more magic, Ven'Zarul drew and clumsily threw his two swords at the grunts gathering in front of him. Before the blades even hit them, both clanging off armor, he was yanking at his clothes, pulling off the ragged cloak and exposing more bruised and split skin along his neck, even as straightened his back.

"Help me! They've kept me captured for weeks!" The voice was desperate and hoarse, cracking with relief and pain, yet still loud enough that Maurus heard it easily. The words weren't meant for his ears though. The footmen had turned and Maurus knew what they were seeing. One of their own, however much a rogue he might be, surrounded by enemies and, if Maurus wasn't wrong, looking like he'd been beaten to within an inch of his life.

The thrown swords, the shout and the bared face made the grunts hesitate for an instant and it was more than enough. Maurus wanted to scream as Ven'Zarul dodged one orc's swing and another's grab, swirling his cloak like the flimsiest shield Maurus had ever seen before throwing it over the head of a tauren and neatly evading him as well. More grunts were hurrying over, but Ven'Zarul was already crossing the Path, hurrying toward the approaching footmen.

The grunts recovered quickly, the tauren one throwing off the cloak with a snarl and spinning to follow Ven'Zarul, along with half of the little group. The rest faced Maurus as he came barreling toward them.

"Halt!" one of them barked.

"Move," Maurus growled, feeling a ripping sensation in his chest as he forced out the word. The grunt's eyes widened as Maurus shoved her aside and went around them.

Ven'Zarul darted around the footmen as they closed ranks and locked their shields. Beneath their helmets their eyes glinted with steely determination as they watched Maurus' approach. Distantly, he heard a dull thud of impact behind him.

"Give me the demon!" he roared, the words coming out so guttural they were almost unintelligible even to those who spoke Orc. He tried to go around the footmen, but they moved to block him, only seeming more determined to stop him and Maurus raised his shield in preparation for the impact.

The footmen took a step in unison so they stood at an angle to Maurus and pushed forward, hitting Maurus half a step before he expected it. The shields hit low and hard, and he bounced off, legs going out from under him. For a moment, he was numb where the shields had slammed into him, but throbbing pain began spreading through his arm and belly just before he crashed into the red dirt.

Next thing he knew, he was being pulled up by strong hands and dragged back toward the Horde camp. Grunts hurriedly stepped between him and the footmen, who made no move but fairly bristled with tension.

Arianna and two of the grunt sergeants were talking hurriedly with the footmen captains, presumably in Human, because it sounded like gibberish to Maurus. Despite not understanding a word of it though, he could hear the hostility in the footmen's voices and detect the airy, condescending tone Arianna used when she was annoyed. The footmen weren't very receptive to what they were being told, if their folded arms and the glares were anything to go by.

Two grunts were just letting go of Mathias and judging by the dust covering all three, the sound Maurus had heard before his own fall had been Mathias getting tackled. Stained with his own dark blood, he looked murderous, like he was only barely restraining himself from simply hacking his way to Ven'Zarul.

"Let go of me," Maurus said gruffly, struggling against the tauren dragging him. "He's getting away."

As the tauren tightened his grip on him instead, he spotted Ven'Zarul through a gap in the lines of footmen and grunts. He was getting further into the camp, supported by a night elf clad in bear furs. Seeing the dreadlord slipping away, getting help even, while Maurus was restrained himself, made his pains and exhaustion flare into fresh rage. His blood thundered in his ears and images of bodies broken by stone, claws and magic flashed across his mind's eye. He was sure he tasted bile as he opened his mouth and roared with such force that it felt like blunt claws raked his throat: "You can't hide Zarul! We'll find you and tear you limb from limb!"

A dozen swords were half-drawn and the grunts raised their axes before the shouts of the captains and sergeants stopped them in their tracks.

"Shut your stupid mouth," Maurus' captor said harshly, giving him a hard shake. "We can't afford this fight."

As his rage began to fade, he saw the truth of the statement and realized how it must have looked to the Alliance. How Ven'Zarul had meant it to look. He stopped struggling and slumped in the other tauren's grip and the tauren snorted, either in disgust or satisfaction. He was dragged five steps more before he was thrown off the Path of Glory, landing in a heap.

He slowly pushed himself up again, leaving his shield on the ground. It was as if he left the final sparks of his battle rage with the shield and without it, all of his pain and exhaustion rushed back in. His limbs throbbed, his chest burned and his stomach rolled with nausea but refused to just lie there, so instead he stood and looked at the line of grunts and footmen, hoping he would only have to bear the shame of almost causing bloodshed.

It seemed that would be the case. The soldiers of both sides had put away their weapons, though some still looked moments away from violence and the tension was dissipating, as the Horde and Alliance officers spoke hurriedly and urgently, half to each other, half to their men. Arianna was adding her voice to the mix, taking a more diplomatic tone this time, though from the glances she got, she might be doing more harm than good.

Mathias was a different story, looking everything but calm as he stalked toward Maurus, righting his back and for once rising to his full and surprising height. His face was dark with cold rage, his pale lips barely closed over clenched teeth and his eyes were narrowed into slits. The holes the flies had torn in his face, oozing dark blood, only added to the fearsome impression and even though his sword remained in its sheath, his slowly opening and closing hands looked plenty dangerous, reminding Maurus of the claws of a gargoyle.

When he reached Maurus, Mathias' hands shot up, closing around Maurus' horns. Maurus grunted at the painful tug on his horns as Mathias wrenched his head down in order to glare into his eyes without having to look up.

"Is there nothing between these?" Mathias hissed, pulling at the horns as he did. "What could that threat possibly gain us?"

Maurus felt like a stone had settled in his stomach. He hadn't thought about what his threat had revealed.

Mathias shook Maurus' head by the horns again, the motion tugging at the skin and bone around his horns and making his head spin with slight dizziness.

"I should rip out your tongue before you let anything more slip!" Mathias hissed with a breath that smelled of rotten meat, his face only inches from Maurus' muzzle. The fingers of his right hand slipped from Maurus' horn and dug into the side of his face.

Despite his guilt, Maurus felt fire flare in his veins again and his eyes narrowed as he raised his arms. His hands closed around Mathias' wrists, tightening till it almost felt like he'd pushed the muscle away from bone.

"I see my mistake," he said gravely. "I'm sorry. My anger often gets the best of me."

He pulled Mathias' hands away from his head, reddish-brown eyes boring into milky ones. Again, he noticed the lazily bleeding wounds on Mathias' face.

"But this doesn't gain you anything either. I think you should find a priest or someone to restore you. Before I give you need for one."

He pushed Mathias backward. For a moment he thought Mathias might leap at him, but with one more angry glare, he stomped past him.

Maurus sighed heavily, the guilt rushing back as he let go of the weak anger Mathias had kindled. In truth, Mathias was well within his rights to give him a few good punches, but he was far too tired, hurt too much and he was already berating himself. And the threat had been over the line.

"He's right."

Maurus sighed at Arianna's words. Her voice was airy and blasé, but he though he heard annoyance in there, just beneath the surface.

He turned to her and his eyes widened. Her face and neck was smeared with blood and he could see spots of darker red all over her robes. Strands of her hair clung to her face or hung free, but stuck together by the drying blood. His weight in his stomach seemed to become heavier.

"Are you alright?" he asked breathlessly, taking a step toward her and reaching out to her. She didn't look pained, only frightfully gory, but he doubted she would let pain show.

The corners of her mouth quirked upward briefly, momentarily turning the thin displeased line of her mouth into a slight, reluctant smile.

"I still had the health stone. I'm fine underneath."

Maurus looked her up and down. Her robes were dirty, tattered and clung to her because of blood and sweat, outlining her thin frame and he found his eyes lingering on her too thin waist and her chest. She was leaning on her staff, but she didn't seem to need to and he couldn't see any wounds under the blood.

"Of course you are," he said tiredly, feeling just a little of the weight in his gut lift. More of the weight vanished as he saw the grunts return to their positions along the path, a few glaring at him, just like most of the footmen did.

"I guess you aren't," Arianna said. As her eyes roamed over his face and neck, he noticed both the sticky feeling of his own blood and the stinging of the wounds there. "You should find a healer. I'll stay and wait for the goblins, maybe they can convince the Alliance. Maybe we can salvage your mess."

Maurus winced at the acid in the last few words and lowered his gaze.

"I can wait."

"Just go," she said flatly and it felt like a punch to the gut. Underneath her calm, he realized, she was angry with him too.

'The healers are too busy for those that aren't dying, he thought. 'The camp still isn't friendly to warlocks, even without their pets.'

But he didn't argue. He just bent down and picked up his shield as Arianna left without another word. Raising his head, his gaze fell on the ground next to the tauren that had dragged him back on the Horde side. Ignoring the glare of the tauren, Maurus stepped closer, crouched and picked up the abused rag of a cloak that lay there, discarded and forgotten. Then he turned, just as the goblins came running.

"Don't go too far," the tauren grunt said grimly. Maurus' eyes narrowed, but he kept himself from responding.

He hesitated for a moment, before he had a though. The grunt could hardly complain as long as he could see him and there were probably druids or shamans among the ones guarding the Path of Glory. The sentries might not like him, but maybe it was possible he could get proper healing in reasonable time. He slung the ragged, stinking cloak over one shoulder and looked around for someone spiritually gifted.

Well, what do you think? Let me know. All reviews are much appreciated. And if any of you native speakers notice any mistakes, please correct me.

Edit: Made some small edits in the end here, after "didn't argue".