With a Little Help from His Friends... Or Not
Though he knew he probably shouldn't worry about provisions for his quest, Fentulk nonetheless packed dried rations just in case. He'd never had to live off the land in this world. He wasn't sure what flora, and fauna for that matter, was safe to eat. Moke wasn't any help either; the windroc was likewise born and raised in Nagrand. Neither of them knew what to do with the wildlife in the jungle north of Booty Bay, and the cook's input was almost useless.
"If it don't kill you first, 's'probly okay to eat," he'd advised. Fentulk was pretty certain he could have figured that much out on his own.
The herbalist at Grom'gol gave him a list of the plants that were safe for consumption, but Fentulk was too embarrassed to admit he couldn't read it.
After being told by several goblins and an old friend that he was an idiot for seeking a human mate, the orc decided to keep his mouth shut about it. That left Moke as his only confidante, a bird whose communication with him was largely visual and symbolic, rather than actual words. When he informed the bird of his need, the only way he could convey the idea was by imagining nesting windrocs. It was the first time he got anything like a tolerant shrug from his old companion. He decided he'd have to be content with that.
Fentulk never bothered getting a warg mount, so when he finally departed Grom'gol with supplies in his pack and his pet circling watchfully above, he did so on foot. He knew from a map of Stranglethorn Vale, albeit old and not accounting for the various upheavals of a few years ago, that the jungle bordered Duskwood, and was the last vestige of neutral territory for many leagues. Once he crossed the border, he'd have to be wary.
It still seemed like utter madness that he could not walk unchallenged in this world. He was no soldier, certainly no spy, had killed no one on Azeroth, very few on Draenor. If there was such a thing as an innocent orc, he was it. The majority of his time had been spent in a neutral position, on board a ship owned and managed by the Steamwheedle Cartel, traveling between two towns with little to no cross-factional incidents worth reporting. If anything, Booty Bay was more often than not overrun by Bloodsail seamen on shore leave, but even that group was integrated by races from both factions. Once Fentulk completed his basic training in Durotar, he'd been surrounded by people who had no interest in the Alliance or the Horde, and gave fealty to neither.
Why wouldn't it make sense for a human to find favor with him? Karie had. She'd liked him enough. They even talked sometimes, for ocean travel was new to her and she was sometimes too nauseous for anything else. He had to admit that chatting with her had been nearly as satisfying as the sex. Not as satisfying as the sex, of course, but still pretty nice.
Fentulk's thoughts were broken by the intrusion of Moke's warning.
***being followed***
The image in the orc's mind was of shadows flitting through grass, but he grasped the idea. He'd forgotten that Moke was 'stuck' in Nagrand, and the references he used to communicate came from their home, rather than the actual terrain they were currently in.
Crouching low, Fentulk darted into the underbrush, sending a cautioning thought to his pet involving concealment in a tree's branches. He felt as well as heard the windroc's answering call as Moke wheeled out of sight.
The orc watched the road, or the dirt path cut through the thick vegetation that passed for a road, for several minutes. The buzz and creak of insects and the calls of vale howlers were the only sounds, but since Fentulk had never set foot in this part of Azeroth, or been in a jungle of any kind back home either, he didn't drop his guard. Frowning, he sent a questioning thought to Moke.
***gone***
Letting his breath out in relief, Fentulk broke cover and returned to the road. That's when the panther sprang.
It hit him square in the back, staggering him forward several paces, but the orc had too much mass to be taken down so easily by such a young beast. Roaring with surprise and pain, Fentulk spun and swiftly backpedaled into the underbrush, the panther clinging to his shoulders with claws piercing leather and flesh.
The jungle provided ample cover for cats with the ability to generate stealth fields, but also gave their victims something to ram into. The orc hit a tree with tremendous force, squashing the panther's body with a satisfying crunch. Then he dove forward and shoulder-rolled, flattening the black cat a second time. Stunned, the beast let go of its intended prey. Fentulk leaped to his feet and pulled his gun. The shot echoed for several seconds, but the panther was too dead to hear it.
Animals didn't understand or experience shame, but Moke at least expressed a sense of surprise. He landed on the path and chattered with agitation, sending the same image over and over: the shadow dissolving in the grass. Grumbling to himself, for that was exactly what the bird told him in the first place and he misinterpreted it, Fentulk tossed Moke some jerky.
There were no large cats back home, he remembered. They didn't even inhabit Durotar, for that matter. He supposed it was understandable that they would both be taken by surprise.
The road continued on, with a few divergent paths leaving the main one, and several rope and wood plank bridges connecting cliffs or crossing rivers. Stranglethorn Vale was a beautiful place, he mused. Perhaps not so lovely as Nagrand, but then, what country was?
By the time night fell, and Fentulk was hunting up a suitable place to set up camp, another jungle wonder presented itself in the form of a downpour strong enough to sink the Fancy and all her crew with her. The orc had endured the edges of these rains in Booty Bay on the occasional shore leave, but they were a whole different experience in the thick of the jungle. There would be no hope of a fire for warmth, little chance of a dry place to sleep, and no chance at all of Moke not berating him for the inconvenience.
When he'd put up with the frequent images of Moke diving at him and gouging out his eyes long enough, Fentulk dismissed the windroc just to get himself some peace. Curling up in a hollow in the bole of a massive tree, the orc drifted off into miserable sleep.
With Moke safely tucked away in the Nether, Fentulk had no warning whatsoever when the figures descended upon him with cudgels and ropes.
It might have been the next day or the next week when the orc regained consciousness. He couldn't tell. The cell was dank and squalid; a few rats nosed around the straw piled in a corner, and there was moisture and mold on the rough stone walls. Fentulk wasn't even lying down; he was suspended by the wrists with chains bolted to the ceiling, and his ankles wore manacles attached to the floor. Now that he was more or less awake, he was at least able to put weight on his feet instead of his shoulders bearing all of it. Glancing down, he realized he'd been stripped down to a loincloth. Not even a loincloth, but a couple of flaps tied front and back around his waist. For modesty as well as utility. From the smell, he could tell he'd already emptied his bladder at least once while unconscious.
Where was he? All he remembered was being taken by surprise, engaging in a brief, hopeless struggle against assailants he couldn't even see clearly, then waking up here. Wherever here was.
There had to be a mistake.
After fretting for a few minutes, he heard footsteps echoing off the walls. Someone was coming; maybe they'd explain what this was about.
What looked like a man's silhouette appeared outside the barred door, unlocking it. He entered and closed the door behind him. Torchlight from the hall outside shone on one side of his face, highlighting a scar that ran from his forehead down over his cheek. An eyepatch obscured what must have been a missing eye from such an injury. The man's hair was blonde, his face clean-shaven.
"Well, well," he said mildly, folding his arms over his chest as he appraised the orc. "Finally awake. I suppose my men thought they needed to apply additional force, considering what you are."
"Why am I here?" Fentulk croaked, his dry throat making speech difficult.
"I do believe I will be asking the questions, orc." Cracking his knuckles and grinning, the man said, "I have orders to find out what you know. If I don't like the answers, I have full authority to... convince you to be more forthcoming, shall we say?" Leaning close to Fentulk's pointed ear, he growled, "I would much rather you gave me shitty answers. I'm looking forward to using some of the new toys the king let me buy."
Brown eyes flaring wide, Fentulk rasped, "I didn't do nothin'! I was just travelin'! I ain't hurtin' nobody!"
"Hmph," the man snorted in disbelief. "There's no such thing as an orc minding his own business. In fact, there are quite a few of the King's Men here who have all sorts of colorful war stories to tell you about. You may not be green, but you're an orc all the same. So if you have any Light-cursed ancestors or spirits or some other fucked up shit you want to talk to before we get started, I suggest you do it now. I won't be interested in hearing it after that." Sneering, the man turned and strode from the cell, banging the door closed behind him.
The orc shivered in the damp cold. He couldn't believe this. It couldn't be real. Any moment now, he would waken and laugh about this nightmare, right? He'd open his eyes and there would be rain and wind in his face, he'd mutter grumpily to himself about wet clothes, he'd summon Moke and they'd continue on their quest.
He wanted desperately to be soaked to the skin in a humid jungle right now.
After a few panicked minutes, he remembered the attunement Kora applied, and thought desperately to her. He wasn't sure how it would work, or if it would work. He needn't have worried.
***This had better be good.***
***Help me!***
***[sigh] What with? Your silly quest? Or have you run into trouble?***
***Prisoner. Chained. Cell. Torture.***
Accustomed to channeling with Moke in imagery, he sent few words to his old friend, but plenty of visions.
***I believe I made it clear that if you were arrested, you were on your own.***
***Did nothing! Walking in jungle. Slept. Taken prisoner. Help me!***
***...***
***Kora!***
***I haven't the time or the interest, darling. You walked into this mess; get yourself out of it.***
The sensation of her cutting him off was almost as final as the cell door slamming shut.