Chapter 5: The Secret Diary of Zackel Wintersoul, Age 24

Journal Entry No # 429

Had clever plan. Plan was not so clever after all. V. Annoyed.

Not dead. There's that, at least.

Stuck in old abandoned castle used by ogres as home. Ogres really poor on hygiene. True, I doubt I smell much better to uptight noses, but at least I try and keep clean. Swear ogres also use bedding as toilet materials.

Could be worse. Could double-use toothbrush as such. Really wish I hadn't heard that story.

Companion is Draenei who came out of nowhere. Still have no clue why. Draenei is not forthcoming. Wonder if it is that time. Wonder if Draenei have that time. Wonder if there is any way I can inquire without getting killed.

Tasked into service by Draenei as free labor. Giant pain. Staff not meant to be used as snow shovel. Also very hard to shovel snow up it-packed stairs. Thank light for magic powers.

Tried to stop blizzard. Failed. Expect this to repeat. Draenei not listen.

On second thought, think it might be preferable if the unpleasant mystery on furs IS of the bathroom variety.

Seemed like such good idea. Hate life. Bet this never happened to Jasciona.

One thing about armor sets was that they looked very strange when half-assembled. Zackel would have found Rielle's training exercises comical as a result, if he wasn't very worried about what chuckling at her could cause. While he went about the business of clearing a way up the stairway and then cleaning snow off the roof, she'd stayed in their 'quarters', dressed in her armor's chest, leg, shoulder, and helmet pieces, and performed constant combat repetitions with her axe. The little Zackel had seen made him wonder how it helped: the process was a lot slower and more restricted than the wild albeit directed blows she'd used to so effectively bring down ogres twice her size and thrice her weight. Of course, she was a lot stronger than she looked: Zackel had seen this firsthand. Not only could she down ogres, she had had no problem moving several hundred pounds of dead weight. Considering she wasn't bulging with massive muscles, instead possessing a lithe, tightly packed figure, Zackel figured she had exceptional tendon strength. Which was probably one of the reasons she had chosen a career that had involved becoming so good at swinging an axe into people's faces.

"I recognize the markings on your armor." Zackel said as Rielle finished up a set. She glanced at the wizard, who had an open notebook he was jotting things down in. With the alien not saying anything, he looked back up at his erstwhile 'roommate'. "Marks of the Northrend Vanguard. You're part of the assault against Arth…The Lich King."

"Yes." Rielle said, before turning and going back to her practice. "The Alliance greatly aided me and my people on our former home. It will never be the same, but they helped make it a better place. Their efforts ensured my survival and growth. When they called on my…my people to help them in their effort against the Lich King, we could hardly refuse."

"How is that going?"

"Uncertain. The front is spread greater than expected. Meeting…unexpected opposition." Rielle said. "My primary effort this past month has been securing a mine rich in resources. We're not the only ones who want it. Fighting has been quite heavy."

"The Scourge?"

"The Horde." Rielle said.

"Ah, but of course." Zackel said. Silence settled onto the room again.

"…did the Wrathgate…"

The axe did not actually go anywhere near Zackel, but the way Rielle turned and threw it across the room and into the wall served terrifyingly well enough.

"Let's not talk about the Wrathgate." Rielle said, stalking across the room and pulling her axe free.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault…not your…" Rielle said. She headed over to her own bedding, placing her axe down before she drank some of Zackel's juice.

"So you were at Northrend."

"Yes."

"………….then may I ask why you are now he…"

Rielle glanced up, her eyes filled with cold anger. Again, Zackel got the impression it wasn't directed at him.

"…would you like to decide the conversation direction, so I can stop inadvertently poking sore spots?"

"What are you writing down?"

"Alchemist ponderings."

"Oh really." Rielle said, before abruptly surging up and grabbing for the book.

"HEY! That's PRIVATE!" Zackel said, pulling the book away.

"And I'm bored. Hand it over!"

"You wouldn't understand it!"

"Try me!" Rielle said, grabbing at the book.

"Fine, fine." Zackel said, handing it over. Rielle looked at the wizard, and then glanced at the book. As Zackel had said, it was filled with confusing mathematical formulas.

"…you pulled something."

"What?"

"You switched the books somehow. Let me see up your sleeves!"

Zackel pulled the sleeves of his robe back, revealing shirted arms and nothing hidden.

"…why would you bother trying to protect this?"

"Would you like it if I started examining the metallurgy of your helmet?"

"…point." Rielle said, heading back to her bedding. She sat for a moment, before she took her armor off and laid down on the furs.

"So. Tell me what you were doing here." Rielle said.

"You mean in the Alterac mountains?"

"I might as well know why I'm stuck here with you."

"Well, you see, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Journal Entry No # 430

She thought the idea was v. stupid. Not really in a position to argue.

More clever than she thinks. Up sleeves is first place anyone with sense looks. Sleight of hand is crucial part of learning magic. Easier to summon power from nothing when one has learned to move things without anyone seeing them.

She snores when she sleeps. Almost cute.

Have to move more snow tomorrow. Looks to be daily task.

Hate daily tasks.

"So how do these traps work?" Rielle asked, peering at the faint, barely visible marks Zackel had etched on the sides of the door and the floor where the actual door was. Zackel had been perusing a damaged book he'd found in one of the rooms when she'd stumbled over him. Zackel didn't know if she'd been meaning to ask or just did so so he'd be occupied with a task of her choosing.

"Well there's details about ley energy flows and intermediate heat output and all sorts of things that require a lot of book reading-OW!" Zackel said as Rielle slapped him across the back of his head.

"There's a difference between saying I won't understand and puffing your chest that you do. Get on with it. Zack." Rielle said.

"Fine, fine." Zackel said, rubbing the sore spot. She had one heck of an arm: he'd hated to see what would happen if she outright punched him. "Basically anyone who isn't us walks through, I'll know. And as an added bonus effect…kaled."

Rielle felt the temperature drop abruptly, even as the runes glowed and ice manifested near-immediately, over a dozen stabbing blades of frost erupting and filling the doorway.

"I suppose if you were running, you'd have a decent shot at dodging. Otherwise…well, again, might not be fatal. But I doubt anything that will be caught in that will be happy." Zackel said, turning to Rielle. "Now, you just made me waste one of my hard-made traps. I'll need something from my bags to fix it, why don't you…"

This time, Rielle flicked Zackel on the forehead. Even that was painful.

"YEOW!"

"It will be quicker if you go get it, don't you think?" Rielle said with a wry grin.

"…mayhaps." Zackel grumbled, heading off. "Mayhaps."

Journal Entry No # 431

Girl has no sense of humor. Or mine is poorer than I recall. Not hard to make average Azeroth adventurer amused: just mock Horde or make unpleasant noises that sound gastrological in origin. Noted fact is that copious amount of alcohol is often involved. Not always mix well. Troll in Shattarth once try typical humor, alcohol kept him from realizing he was playing to an audience of dwarves. Not end well.

Did leave me alone afterward, let me poke through all the old, rotting tomes. Not find anything useful, besides time wasters. Want to say criminal what ogres did to books. Stop myself by remembering I'm talking about ogres. Ogres not as dumb as many think, but chances are higher that if you say you made chili, ogres will leave to get a blanket.

V. Ashamed that I just drew from that body of humor. Good thing no one reads my journal except me.

"So. Rielle." Zackel said, hunched over a small wooden bowl he'd found in one of the fortress' rooms. His Draenei companion was lying on her bedding, staring at the ceiling.

"What."

"Do you have a last name?"

The snort the Draenei made indicated that Zackel had made a boo-boo again. No physical blows were forthcoming this time though: instead Rielle rolled onto her side, leaning on her hand as she looked at Zackel with annoyance.

"I never understood your human preoccupation with names. You need two names to define yourself. My species makes do with one. My name Rielle encapsulates both my individuality and my…family line." Rielle said. Zackel arched an eyebrow, wondering if the slight pause meant anything. "If we need something more, we grant titles. Titles are purely ceremonial in the end: they can be discarded without a second thought. Humans, on the other hand, take your two names so seriously. Fel, not just TWO. You have a first name, a family name, and then sometime in your life you grant yourself ANOTHER name, to further define yourself."

"You gain amusement from this?"

"There are some jokes I could tell you. Draenei humor."

"Right. A few counter-points." Zackel said. "One, it's not just humans that do that. Most of Azeroth does. Two, we have a very good reason for taking a secondary name over our family name. Names have power, especially in the wrong hands. With the Burning Legion forever at our horizon, not all of us can rely on an eons-long relationship with the Naaru to protect us from fel curses and blights that involve names."

"…You know your history."

"I know my gasconades." Zackel reply. "Your kind have spread fairly far in Azeroth during your time here. And while you have a general reputation, or maybe more accurately a concept, of being holy, benighted beings to a man, or to an alien if you will, plenty of you are down to earth. In all aspects. Some of you like your alcohol and your bragging as much as any human being."

"…you're not lying." Rielle said, turning her head to look at the fire.

"Not all of us are King Wrynn, either. With a battalion of mages and priests to keep name-curses away from him." Zackel said. "Forgive me for not being fully informed on how your species does nomenclature, but don't think I called myself Wintersoul just because of my talents."

"Talents?" Rielle said, a touch of gentle mockery in her voice as she looked at Zackel again.

"Oh ha ha ha. I certainly move snow well, don't I?" Zackel half-snapped half-groused.

"I suppose your brain is compensating for its inability to plan."

"I'm going to ignore you now." Zackel said, looking back at his alchemical work.

"What are you doing?" Rielle asked, back to looking at the ceiling.

"Something brilliant." Zackel replied, his words slipping out before he could stop himself.

"Well I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Zackel shot a glare as icy as his 'skill namesake' at the Draenei. If Rielle noticed, she gave no indication.

Journal Entry No # 432

Sharp tongue on that girl. Undecided if her weapon or words are more cutting. Not surprising. Probably developed as part of general take-no-crap personality she demonstrates.

Not mean though. Not in the true sense. Whether that's part of her peace overtures or her real personality, I don't know. It's been several days since we were stuck in here and I'm still trying to get her down.

Will figure out if she tears down doing that, hopefully. Knowing the true origin of insults can make all the difference.

Read last line. Not sure if it made sense. Too tired to change it. My journal anyway.

"NOW what are you doing?" Rielle said, looking down into the storage room from the floor above. It was an odd design she'd noticed in a few human fortresses: their stairways terminated into a balcony over an open room that was often used for storage. She'd never been curious enough to ask why. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that most of the Eastern Kingdom's architects had somehow ended up as a giant criminal gang.

"I need something. And there's an old door back here I didn't notice before. Might have it." Zackel said, before cursing and stepping back from said door. "And my attempt to deal with it's rusted lock and warped frame get nowhere. Rielle, give me your axe."

"WHAT?"

"Your axe. I'm going to use it to pry the door open."

"ARE YOU CRAZY? Use your damn staff!"

"This staff is treated wood and an empowered gem. It's not meant to be used as an improvised crowbar." Zackel said. "I saw you throw your axe into a stone wall. The wall gave, the axe didn't. I doubt anything I can do will damage it. Come on now. I'll polish your armor or something."

"I don't want you anywhere near my armor. You'll probably turn it green or something."

"Does that mean I can't have the axe?"

"Fine. Break it, I break you." Rielle said, leaning over the edge of the balcony and dropping her axe down. Zackel watched it fall on the floor.

"WHAT THE FEL ARE YOU DOING?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CATCH IT!"

"Catch the heavy, sharp weapon, or let its hardened body hit the floor and pick it up without risking it or myself. I wonder which was the wiser choice." Zackel said.

"I am going to go down there and open the door by using your hard head."

"You'd better hurry." Zackel said, lifting the axe with considerable effort. He noted that Rielle did not actually go down to confront or hurt him, instead watching from her position on the floor above as Zackel dragged the axe over to the door. Opening the door with it proved to be relatively simple. The axe's incredible weight and Zackel's less than optimal strength made it hard.

"Good light." Zackel said, staggering back and falling on his rear after he was done, the axe clattering down on the ground. "What the hell do they make these things out of, supercompressed mountains?"

"No, you're just weak." Rielle said. "As amusing as watching you fail is, give me my axe back."

"I'll be up the stairs in a bit."

"Stairs nothing. Hand it back up here."

Zackel looked up the Draenei, who flashed a wicked grin.

"So, did you drive all your slaves mad, or just work them to death?" Zackel said, getting up. He steeled himself, and then lifted the axe up hilt-first, trying to get it within range of the Draenei's hand.

"Stop complaining. I have to risk my neck because you don't have any muscle." Rielle replied, leaning far over the old wooden balcony. Her fingers brushed the end of the shaft several times: Zackel had no idea if she actually couldn't grasp it or was just drawing out his pain.

Once she had a firm grip, Rielle easily lifted the weapon one handed, and even took her other hand off the balcony to salute Zackel. Zackel just stared with dull annoyance.

"Now, next time Zack…" Rielle said, twisting around to put her axe on the ground next to her. "You won't enlist my…"

The loud crack sounded through the stairway, and Rielle's eyes widened. She hadn't stopped leaning on the old wooden balcony when she'd been putting her weapon down, and the worn-out construct was finally giving up the ghost.

"Oh." Rielle said.

The balcony gave way, and Rielle clawed at the air as she fell, trying to find something to grab onto and finding air a very poor substance to try and get a handhold on.

At least she wasn't wearing her armor. That worked out well for her and Zackel, as she landed on him.

"…oops." Rielle said, lying on top of the wizard. She hadn't felt any bones break, hers or Zackel's. "You all right?"

"Nice landing. I'm probably paralyzed."

"Everything but your mouth, it seems."

Journal Entry No # 433

Hate my life.

Found what I was looking for at least.

Still hate my life.

There was more to training then practicing weapon-katas, and Rielle made a point every day to run around the fortress, her axe over her shoulders. It was doing that that she had discovered Zackel trying to get into the door her axe had provided entry to. It was returning from that that she discovered why he'd wanted to get in.

"What are you doing?" Rielle said, watching Zackel string a rope across the room in front of the fireplace.

"Trying to improve my accommodations, temporary as they are." Zackel said. Rielle noticed there was another new item in the room: a large wooden vat. It seemed to have once been used to clean livestock. Now it was filled with some sort of bubbling liquid, which was soaking some unidentified material. Glancing around the room, Rielle noticed the ogre furs Zackel had been sleeping in were missing.

"…ah. Soap." Rielle said.

"Got it in one." Zackel said, yanking on the hook he'd gotten from somewhere, driven into the wall with a makeshift rock hammer, and tied the rope to. "Took me a few days to work out the formula with what I had available. But, provided I did it right…we will soon have clean, fresh thick furs."

"And you did this instead of, say, finding a way to insulate the room?" Rielle said.

"Sleeping in a pile of stinking pelts tends to focus one's priorities. That's next on the itinerary. I think I have a glue I can modify slightly to do that." Zackel said, heading over to the cleaning-vat and stirring the furs in it with an old broken staff. "Once that's done, we'll be as comfortable as any inn in Ironforge."

"With a notable lack of drunk dwarves."

"Dwarves don't get drunk. They just enjoy their alcohol more and more." Zackel said, kneeling by the cleaning-vat. "Okay…need more snow, melt as water, rinse…dry. Hardest part is switching out the soap…but then…"

"Zack?"

"Yes?" Zackel said, making the irritation at her insistence of calling him that clear in his voice.

"What do you mean WE will have fresh furs?"

Journal Entry No # 434

Girl stole my furs. Again.

Soap worked. Furs clean. Smell fine. So of course she wants them now. Too tired to complain.

V. Certain I can't get any more irritated at this failed plan.

Don't want to be proved wrong. Want to sleep. At least have sleep of just. Even if it just on old, thinner furs.

It was not the old-new furs that woke Zackel up a few hours later. It was the need to use the washroom. Zackel made his way to the old fortress' privy, which Zackel and Rielle stayed in as little as possible for VERY obvious reasons. At least she hadn't forced him to clean THAT yet. Though once their main room was insulated, Zackel was strongly considering doing it anyway.

When he returned, Rielle was sitting by the fire. She had actually been doing that when he'd gotten up: he had just not noticed.

"Zackel."

"…yes?" Zackel said, not sure if she was acknowledging him or trying to get his attention.

"Sit down." Rielle said, patting the furs next to her. She'd dragged her bedding closer to the fire, and was sipping another of Zackel's 'acquired' drinks.

"Something wrong?" Zackel said, hesitating.

"Sit down wizard. I don't bite." Rielle said. Zackel did as he was 'told'.

"You did a good job on these furs." Rielle said.

"You're welcome."

"I put you down, but you are pretty clever."

"…thank you?"

"Been sitting and thinking." Rielle said. "Haven't treated you that nicely."

"I noticed."

"I think you should know why. Well…at least why I'm here. Why I showed up to help you."

"…all right." Zackel said, making himself comfortable. It seemed like the Draenei was going to stop being so tight-lipped about herself. "I'm listening."

"You mages are a bunch of bastards."

"Well it's not exactly once upon a time but it catches the ear."

"Ha ha." Rielle said. "Trust me Zackel. When I'm done, you will see I have a very, VERY good reason for holding that opinion."