The band of hunters sat around a campfire in the wilderness just within the boundary of the Dragonblight, the ashes of dragons gradually peetering out into the dark ground of Ursoc's domain, the Grizzly Hills. Ulric wasn't about to traverse those lands in the darkness, so he decided to wait until the morning to make his way down to the Fjord, giving him a chance to discuss what he'd promised Shadowmoon, anyway.

Parvaen sat cross-legged, whittling a piece of wood he'd collected, bringing it up to his face periodically to examine its shape up close. Shadowmoon and the others had been too caught up in their conversations to really notice, but Remnaar suddenly spoke up, curiously, though still with a wry sort attitude.

"We couldn't find any old pieces of any importance; did you just decide to make your own?" he laughed, quickly.

"Yeah, funny draenei here," Parvaen replied, pithily, dramatically stretching his arm into the air and pointing down at Remnaar as he looked at Tandkota, "Check it out, Kota; he's got jokes! Jokes!"

The tauren grinned lightly, though didn't stop writing, leaving Parvaen to return to Remnaar with a sarcastic stare, "Nice, Rem. Nice."

He shook his head as he returned to whittling, Remnaar chuckling under his breath as he leaned over to stoke the fire, "We're just joshing you, you know. You are the new guy, after all."

"Yeah, for how many months?" Parvaen shrugged.

Remnaar eyed him with a playful smile, "Hey, you haven't even been kiting yet. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow night, you'll no longer be the new guy. but we'll have to see."

Parvaen sighed, hiding a frown on his downturned head as his small knife ran down the length of the wooden slab in his hand, the shavings joining the large pile of leftovers that had collected down at his feet. He paused for a moment, peeking up at Wintergarde, off in the distance, looking for the other two.

"You think something went wrong?"

Remnaar replied quickly, "Nope. Even if it did, if it's those two, it wouldn't be an issue for any longer than it would have taken to speak that sentence. Ulric especially; he's one who's two steps ahead of everybody. Very difficult to get a jump on him."

"Indeed!" came Ulric's voice from out of nowhere, nearly knocking Parvaen from where he sat, the blood elf's eyes wide in shock as Ulric appeared from the opposite direction of the Keep, "Sorry, pal. I didn't mean to get the jump on you; I figured Remnaar's words were warning enough."

Without speaking, Shadowmoon appeared from behind him, her light and quick steps rounding the ground before hurrying to the ground, sitting cross-legged with her woolen cloak covering her body as she slumped forward. The others knew it was code for her not wanting to be disturbed, though Ulric's presence was enough to steal their attention anyway.

"Alright guys, here's the deal. I secured a deal with somebody, so by the time we get to the Fjord and start up hunting again, we shouldn't have to deal much with the authorities. Luckily, the dwarves don't seem to take so friendly with D.H.E.T.A."

"All the way out here?" Remnaar questioned, annoyed, "Damn, Lathorius is diligent."

Ulric nodded, "Well, as long as we're here on this continent, anyway. Ever since Nessingwary left, we've sort of been public enemies number one. Not that I mind though."

He sat down on the ground beside the fire, smirking, "I can't think of a better group of people I'd rather be on a poster with. So, what's to eat? Any buzzard jerky?"

"Ahh," Remnaar responded, rummaging through his pack, "It must be story-time, eh?"

Parvaen looked up, curiously, "You mean-"

Ulric reached over, patting the elf's knee, "Well, we're going kiting tomorrow; I figure you're as much of the team as anybody by now."

Shocked, Parvaen's eyes grew wide as he leaned over toward Tandkota, speaking quietly up toward him, "Put that in your correspondence."

The tauren shook his head evenly as Parvaen returned to his spot, watching Ulric reverently as he lowered his knife and wood to the ground. The leader, however, scoffed, shaking his head.

"Oh please, it's no big deal," he chuckled, nervously scratching his thick beard, "It's nothing but a story. An unfortunate one, but I mean… Well, I guess it would answer some questions as to how I do things."

To that, Ulric leaned forward, seriously, "What's our two rules?"

On the spot, Parvaen replied, "No guns. No bows."

Ulric grinned, nodding approvingly, "See? Well, there is an exception- this kiting business; but that's for tomorrow. Aside from all that…"

He trailed off, sighing, "I, uh… Despite this whole business, I don't particularly enjoy killing animals. I mean, not to some sadistic level. You've seen me confront creatures on my own before."

Parvaen nodded, "Y-Yeah, it's quite, er, 'primal', I suppose."

Ulric laughed, "Yes, I suppose so. I enjoy confronting nature, but only on as even of ground as I can manage. You see, my father was- Well, we lived down in Silverpine, and if you fight those creatures like I do, here, you'd lose every time, so he was always quick to the trigger. There was this one time…"

Ulric's eyes opened at the sound of a gunshot splitting the air, his body instinctively jumping up in his bed as he tried to get to his feet. His legs, so tangled in his covers, however, remained as his body fell out of the bed and straight onto the ground, a massive pain radiating across his face. As he lay there, a hearty chuckle appeared near the doorway, his father watching humorously with a rifle held up at his shoulder.

"Might be'a new rec'rd!" he laughed as his son slowly rose to his feet, "Ya ready, boy? 'Bout time I take y' out ta hunt."

Ulric had been dreading this day. It had been the delightful conversation from his father the last week or so around the table as the old man happily brought up the topic again and again. His mother knew he was less than enthused, but she knew it wasn't exactly her place to bring it up. Ulric knew that too, so he hadn't harbored any ill-will toward her.

Now realizing there was no danger, Ulric lazily pulled his clothes on as his father turned to stare out the window, his eyes shrinking into a stare, "Ehh… Ol' Denny ain't out yet. Figur'd we'd get 'im crawlin' 'round, but may hafta track 'im. Ready fer it, boy?"

Ulric didn't answer as his eyes dropped to the ground as he pulled his pants up, working at his belt. Old Denny was the deer that had been walking up and down the perimeter of the Walthorn's little stead, which would normally be a death sentence immediately, but Ulric's father figured it would be a good first kill for his boy, so he stayed his finger, waiting until this frost-bitten, foggy morning.

For a ten-year-old, Ulric hadn't felt much different from being nine, though he chalked that up to his birthday only having been the day before. Of course, there were no presents way out here, though his mother made sure to cook up an extra helping of stew for him, knowing what was to come in the morning. Ulric remembered how hot his insides felt as he ate his dinner; a cold shiver now running down his spine as he looked up to his father, and the rifle accompanying him.

The boy sauntered over toward his father as the old man made his way out, Ulric making sure to grab his coat before leaving, not wanting to wake his mother this early to say goodbye. He shut the door behind him, turning to see his father breathing into his enclosed hands, staring off toward the walls of Gilneas. He'd grown up there himself, along with his wife, but once talk began to circulate about shutting the land off from the world, the man had decided to leave, setting up out here in a much more desolate and dangerous place. He never liked being bound, and even being married, he'd once been known to be quite a scoundrel. Out here, though, all you had was your family.

Ulric joined his father in staring out over the field toward the massive walls, though hed only been an infant when the three left, leaving him with no memories of the place. The only emotion he could ever conjure was awe for the massive walls, but even that was beginning to wane.

His father started off, Ulric following close behind, their boots trudging through the fresh mud of the ground that came from a light rainstorm the night before, leaving the landscape with a foggy, misty air. They made their way up a steep hill, the other side leading into a valley beside a lake where many creatures would congregate, leaving Ulric's old man with an ideal spot to pick and choose their meals.

They made a spot behind a dead tree, crouching down in anticipation. While he'd never held the rifle himself, it wasn't the first time Ulric had accompanied his father hunting. He knew the basic procedures, and he knew all too well what the result would be- it often would be doing over his father's shoulders. He never looked when the tell-tale click of the hammer broke through to his ear; he'd always shut his eyes, but never looked away. He knew his father would be upset if he thought his son wasn't watching his proudest work.

Today, though, Ulric knew hed have to witness death with his own eyes. It was a thought that swirled restlessly in the pit of his stomach. His father pulled the rifle up and held it against the dead tree they'd taken shelter behind, leaving it balanced there for his son to take.

"Well, mah boy," he began, proudly, "Yer ten now; I guess it's time ya learn'd. You'll have yer own fam'ly one day; you'll need ta support 'em. That starts with this, 'ere."

Ulric shivered as he stared at the firearm, slowly reaching up to take it with his hand, pulling it closer. It was a lot heavier than he expected, even with it resting against the tree in front of him. His father had gone through how to fire and reload the night before, though Ulric knew that, if he didn't succeed with his first shot, he most likely wouldn't have the presence of mind to remember how to gain a second.

His father whispered with a grumble, "You ready, boy?"

Unable to speak, Ulric gave a shaky nod as he saw what his father had seen- Old Denny, trotting out slowly from the bush toward the lake for a drink. His breath came out as a disjointed set of steam as his lungs quaked under his nerves. His father turned at him seriously, suddenly pushing Ulric's arm, forcefully.

"Come on, boy! Ya wanna eat tonight?! Do it!"

Ulric's finger still hadn't made it to the trigger as his eyes stared, unsure, across the field, his hands shaking so much that the only thing keeping the rifle steady was the tree it was balanced upon. His father hit him in the shoulder, yanking at his arm as he leaned in for a vicious whisper.

"Boy, I swear ta god, if ya don't do as I tell you…" his father growled angrily under his breath.

The boy finally pulled the rifle over, slowly, shakily lifting it up to his shoulder as he watch Old Denny lift its head up, surveying the area for danger. Danger it had no reason to expect would come from yards away. Ulric's eyes burned underneath his tears, welling up from fear, shame, and anger. Anger at his father.

"Do it!" his father growled again, quietly, "Boy! Do it!"

Ulric's teeth clenched as he felt his sweat pouring down his forehead, sniffling past his tears, his father bringing an intense punch to his arm, finally shouting out in his own buildup of anger, "DO IT!"

Old Denny's head shot up. Caught between his father's yell, so associated with torment, and his hit, Ulric's head went blank just long enough for a cry to break free as he pulled the trigger, the sound of exploding gunfire blistering into his ears as he fell backward, his eyes shooting open in horror as he stared off into the distance, the deer's hind quarters fallen to the ground as its front legs desperately clawed at the ground ahead, trying anything to get away.

Ulric only sat there in a daze, unable to even hear his father yelling at him to give him the gun. Finally, the old man yanked the gun away, rapidly reloading it before aiming once again, and with a final clap of gunfire, the field went still. Ulric's eyes hadn't moved, but in the edge of his vision, he saw his father dropping his arms to his side, his chest exhaling in relief.

He turned to his son, throwing the rifle onto him, hard enough for it to hurt, before he started climbing over the fallen tree, "Come on. Gotta get home 'fore the wolves come."

The boy couldn't move. He could only barely hear those words at all as the scene played again and again in his mind, his entire body trembling as he sat in the mud. Finally, another vicious shout from his father broke him from his reverie, his eyes blinking free as he stood up to shaky legs, barely able to catch up to his father.

The old man leaned down with a knife, cutting across the deer's neck to ensure its death before turning to his son, pointing down at the body, "Well, boy. It's yer kill. You get the honor've carryin' it home. Be the hero 'n all that."

Ulric stared down at Old Denny, his tears having left, though his face was still red from his earlier sorrow. He didn't want to go anywhere near that corpse. He didn't want to be anywhere near his father, for that matter. The old man grumbled disapprovingly, crouching down to wrap his arms around the beast before standing again, forcing the corpse onto Ulric's shoulders before shaking his head and walking off, leaving his son to follow behind.

"I dun know what ya don't get," his father muttered, rhetorically, "We need food. That beast would'a dun the same to us if it could've. We may not be the highest creatures on tha food chain, but we made it pretty high, boy. Gotta take advantage of what we've been given."

"I'd like to see you prove that without hiding behind cover like a coward," Ulric muttered below his breath, his head lowered as he bore the weight of the deer at his shoulders.

In a split second, a jarring pain shot a ross his fave, knocking him to the ground as his father stood over him angrily, rubbing his fist against his stomach, "Boy, I swear to god. You question my ways ag'in, I'll put ya in tha ground myself, ya hear? I won't have ya talkin' back ta me."

Ulric resiliently started to his feet, without the aid of his father, clutching at the deer's hooves as he did so, keeping Old Denny wrapped over his shoulders. He kept his head down as the two began walking again, the boy's father huffing angrily under his breath.

"You showed promise, boy," he muttered, "Shame ta waste that."

Ulric didn't particularly care. He'd already stopped listening to him.

The air around the campfire had grown considerably more somber as Ulric concluded his story. Even though Remnaar and Tandkota had heard it previously, it was still quite a heart-wrenching tale, especially with how Ulric told it, nearly coming to tears himself, despite years and repeated telling. He broke the air with a clap of his hands, standing up with a grin.

"I figure, if you're going to be a part if this little troupe, you deserve to know why we do things the way we do," he explained plainly, "Obviously, it's led to some notoriety; I mean, all of you but Shadowmoon sought me out specifically to be part of this."

Remnaar chuckled, "'The Beast King of Northrend'. Yes, yes; we know. No beast can fell him, nor could the dragons of the Blight, were they to try."

"Hey now," Parvaen muttered under his breath, "You shouldn't speak ill of those magnanimous beings."

Remnaar eyed him sarcastically, but Ulric nodded, shoving his fists into his pockets, "He's right. I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind, however."

Even Tandkota peered up toward him as he said that, their leader's lips curling to a grin as he laughed, "Oh, stop. I've an active imagination, but I'm no fool. Tomorrow, Shadowmoon and I take Parvaen kiting, so you two can do whatever you so choose once we cross into the Fjord. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Tandkota and Remnaar exchanged knowing glances, the draenei smirking as he did, "So we shouldn't accept drinks from a shady character only to wake up hours later with no wallet or shoes?"

Ulric groaned, "Okay, anything I wouldn't have done in the last two decades, alright? Just stay on the down-low."

Remnaar nodded as his laughter fades into just a series of short bursts of chuckles, their leader walking off, "Get some sleep. All of you. We wake at first light."

The troupe agreed as they began packing up their recreations before pulling out their sleeping supplies. Tandkota, needing no such things, only took the few steps he required to reach Shadowmoon, who remained where she was, hunched over by the fire. He reached down to pat her shoulder, gently, her face slowly turning up toward him.

"You okay?" he asked, quietly.

She nodded, though the edge of her lips curved down into half of a frown as if she'd been mulling over some negative thoughts. She leaned slightly to the side, her eyes glowing like shining orbs in the dark as stared off into the distance where Ulric had wandered off to.

"Is he a worgan?"

Parvaen jerked forward, coughing violently into his arm, her question having caused him to choke on a piece of jerky. Tandkota watched her, his expression unchanged, while Remnaar smirked over toward her as he was kneeling down to prepare for sleep.

"You mean his primal manner and Silverpine childhood didn't raise enough red flags?" he asked, humorously.

Rather surprised to hear him speaking on this so freely, Shadowmoon shrugged at him, "I-I mean… Is he?"

Now, even Parvaen was watching the two eldest members with a worried look, though Tandkota simply sat down atop a stack of blankets, something out the edges, "Of course he isn't. Don't let Rem tease you into believing otherwise."

Remnaar laughed heartily, "You give me too much credit, buddy. Even I wouldn't joke about such things. But I've known Ulric for years; there hasn't been much of an ounce of evidence to conclude he's anything but a true-to-the-blood human."

He glanced over toward Parvaen, whose face still held a sense of worry, "Oh, come now. Trust me on this. Why would you even think that, Shadowmoon?"

She silently pondered over telling them what had happened, deciding against it as she answered, slowly, "…no reason. I'm just skeptical of any human so close to Gilneas."

The draenai shrugged earnestly, "Fair enough, I suppose."

They began to lay down to sleep, save for Parvaen, who remained sitting down by the fire, his eyes shakily watching out in the woods surrounding the group. He'd reached for his wooden piece that he'd whittled down into the shape of some exotic knife, keeping it close to his chest as he felt a swift kick to his side, hurriedly jumping to defend himself.

"Calm down," Shadowmoon complained as she pulled her leg back under her blanket, "Get some sleep. I'll protect you. Promise."

Parvaen did as he was told, grumbling under his breath, "Protected by a kaldorei. How that idea has so lessened in offense to me."

Shadowmoon laughed, quietly, under her breath, "Don't worry; Rem and I could still take the both of you, easily "

He scoffed, "Oh, spare me. Kota and I would clearly win. You don't even know; eh, Kota?"

He was answered only by silence, though with a small quake along the ground, Tandkota's reply emerged, "You're exploring territory you may not find desirable, blood elf."

Parvaen sighed, unfortunately, as Shadowmoon and Remnaar shared a chuckle.