A bit of linking

There's more coming here later today, but for the moment, I wanted to pass on a link to another blog I've got, where I'm working on a NaNoWriMo project (which is not, ironically, a novel).  It's focusing on a series of short pieces within a mythic cycle.

`Ilio

The forest was quiet beneath the moon.  `Ilio leaned back on the koa wood throne he'd had made and gazed into the darkness, ignoring the whimpers of the girls chained to either side of his armrests.  His nostrils flared and his tongue darted out to lick at his muzzle.  Something was coming.  It stank of the Kin of Tāne...

Malena stalked through the darkened forest, cutting between ancient trees.  Two weeks ago, something had moved into this area, driving out the usual spread of hunters and tourists in the Molokai Forest Reserve.  A number of girls of all ages and young boys had disappeared from the towns on the island.  The two things were obviously related and Malena had decided to put it down with extreme prejudice.  Calls to past allies had yet to be returned, so she had set out on her own.

Her clothes, transformed to dark fatigues with an obsidian belt carved in the form of two eels biting the moon, rustled softly, but she moved slowly, trying to mask it with forest sounds.  It reminded her of the days she had Not that they were many; the birds and beasts had apparently cleared out, making it far more clear that the thing in the forest was not just a trumped up mortal.  Ahead, a twig snapped.  Malena froze.

A dark-haired girl rushed into view, crying breathlessly.  Not waiting a moment to consider, Malena broke her cover and sprinted to the child.  "It's okay, hoaloha, it's okay.  I've got you."

The girl sobbed aloud, then whispered, "But... My friends!  He let me go!  He has them!"

Malena grit her teeth in frustration.  "I'll come back for them.  I promise.  But you need to go home, now."

The girl sniffled and didn't move, so Malena scooped her up before retreating through the forest.  She headed for the hunter check point, where a ranger would be stationed.  He could take the girl and she could come back for the others.

`Ilio watched the Kin of Tāne go.  He delt sure he could take the woman, despite her blood.  She appeared unarmed and unarmored.  Her clumsy stalking in the forest would have given her away had he not been able to smell her from miles off. When she returned, he would take her.  He would eat her and return to the founding of his family.  The family that would rule Molokai and war on the Kin of hated Tāne.

Malena knelt over the spot where she'd found the girl.  The moon had begun its decent towards the west, which changed the shadows, but she was fairly certain she could make out the girl's tracks coming from the northwest.  She rubbed her fingers across them for a moment, trying to sense just what the girl had run from.

Rising, she stalked in that direction.  She shook her wrists, feeling the weight of the koa wood bracelets there hitting against the backs of her hands.  The night air was warm, making her clothes cling, and briefly she considered changing them to something more comfortable.

Ahead there was a clearing, moonlight pouring down on something polished and golden.  It look, for the most part, like a large chair, but two hooks protruded from the fronts of the armrests.  Malena paused a few yards back of the clearing's edge, watching and listening.

The Kin of Tāne pause, clearly afraid of entering the unprotected area of the clearing.  'Ilio snorted at her timidity.  He shifted his weight, creeping forward on the branch.  He hovered over her, waiting for her to look up at the sound of his breathing.  She didn't.

It dropped out of the trees at Malena, snarling maw descending towards her face.  Instinctively, Malena stepped backwards, letting her bodyweight shift and take her into a reverse tumble that brought her out from beneath the Titanspawn and back up into a crouch.  She smiled at it, toothy and wide.  It growled low in its throat and then spoke, "Kin of Tāne, I am the master of this place.  Leave and I will allow your bones to remain in your flesh for but a little longer."

She laughed in its ugly dog-like face.  "You've been watching too many Brock Landers movies, friend.  Where are the children you've stolen, hound?"

It growled again and darted forward, crouching low.  Malena leapt backwards, wrists coming forward in a snapping motion.  Her bracelets slapped against the backs of her palms and then flowed forward, forming into the familiar shark-toothed weapons she called Ukupanipo's Bite.  She spun, slashing out at the charging Titanspawn, who stopped short as it registered the weapons' appearance.

'Ilio circled, newly wary of the girl who'd come to face him.  He'd thought, given her relative clumsiness in coming through the forest, that she would be an incapable fighter.  Her sudden response to his attack had changed that perception for him.  He changed tactics.  "I've eaten all the children.  They were delicious.  Would you like to weep over their bones before I eat you, too?"

Malena grinned at the Titanspawn.  "Darling, the only way you'll make me weep is by your stench.  I know they're alive.  The girl you lost told me as much."

"Ah yes, the bait."

Malena pivoted as he stalked circles around her, keeping her right hand and the weapon there trained on the center of his chest.  "You're a descendant of Kaupe, no?  I heard your kind have no control, chasing after women like dogs in heat.  Trying to create more of your filthy kind."

"Are you offering to take their place?"  Malena danced right as he feinted towards her left.

"In your dreams."  She returned her own feint, watching as he guarded low as she took a sharp step forward.  And then all her tactical scheming ended as he doubled in size.  She backpedaled, her clothing twisting into a full set of tactical infiltraition gear.

'Ilio grinned, more like a dog's corpse rictus than any semblance of actual pleasure.  He lumbered towards the Kin if Tāne, clawed hands flexing.  I wonder, he thought, what a crossbreed of one of her kind and one if mine would be.  The strength of such a being...

Malena recovered, shaking herself to break fron the fear.  Boundibg forward and under the Titanspawn's outstretched arms.  Lightning quick, she struck at his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs and ripping his flesh.

But it swatted her away like a fly and flex its midsection, revealing unbroken skin.  Malena's eyes widened in horror.  She scrambled for any inkling of a plan.

'Ilio laughed to himself as the girl turned and ran.  She bounded into the forest like a frightened rabbit and he was all to happy to oblige and play the role of hungry wolf.

Malena could hear the child of Kapue hot on her heels.  She dodged around trees and leaped a fallen trunk, all the while heading north.  A low hanging branch threatened to block her way, but a right cross burst it into a splintery explosion.  She pressed on.

'Ilio could smell the woman's fear.  It was aromatic and delightful, promising him months of enjoyment before her usefulness was expended.  He pounded on, focused, growing closer, ever closer, to his prey.

Malena heard rushing wind and water and pivoted abruptly to her left and sprang forward.  The Titanspawn was mere inches behind her, but with all his bulk, he couldn't turn as nimbly as she could.  He charged into open air, legs still pumping like a cartoon and begun to plummet.  Malena crept to the edge and looked down after him.

'Ilio howled at the Kin of Tāne as she gazed down at him.  He cursed her and her parentage.  And then all was black.

Malena watched the surf for signs of the Titanspawn surfacing, but after twenty minutes there was nothing.  Satisfied, she turned back to the forest to go and find the kidnapped children.

Darkness Warm and Sweet

(Warning: Adult, but not strongly so, situations to follow)

Leander sat near one of the torches impaled in the sand every few yards on the beach.  Before him tropical waves darted in and out of the edge of the firelight, twinkling.

He sighed, hearing the soft crunch of the fine sand beneath a light step.  For a moment, his hand went to his belt, to the buckle there that could be a spear with but a thought.  His other things were stowed in the provided bungalo the Atua had provided him; here, in the heart of Au-ruroa, there should be no need of them.  Without turning, he said, "No use trying to hide Malena.  I know you've been sent be Pele to bring me back."

"She's done no such thing, Lee.  I'm here for me," retorted the Atua demigoddess as she crossed into the Son of Athena's view.  A child of Hina, Malena was lovely.  She was tan and dark of eye and hair, and built along athletic lines moreso than buxom like some of her half-sisters.  Both graceful and forceful described her as she moved down the beach.  If Leander was honest, he thought he might be more than casually infatuated with her.

He smiled at her.  "Oh really.  I haven't seen you all night, but if I do, I'll let you know that you're looking for you."

She laughed, standing in front of him, hands on hips and head back.  Involuntarily, his gaze traveled up her bare legs, to the short sundress decorated with a stylized picture of the moon above a sea full of eels.  Leander wasn't quite sure, but he felt like it moved each time he didn't focus on it.  And then, suddenly, it was all he could see as she moved in close.  After a dizzying moment of the moon inches before his eyes, she dropped onto his lap, straddling his legs and face close to his.

"Now do you understand, you foolish Greek?" she asked, locking eyes with him.

"I'm really more of an American," Leander responded, not looking away.

She laughed again and leaned in, kissing him furiously.

When he was freed and had caught his breath, he asked, "What exactly are you looking for out of this night?"

She ran a hand through his hair.  "Well... you're leaving tomorrow.  I thought I'd give you something to remember your new family by..."

Leander smile, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.  "Oh really."

She nipped at his nose.  "Stop playing hard to get, foolish boy.  I know you're as interested as I am."

She wriggled atop him and he had no recourse to deny her words.  He sighed again, having known this moment was coming.  "You're right.  Absolutely right.  But I can't."

She frowned at him, leaning back.  "Why not?  We're both adults.  You've been adopted by my pantheon, so there's no political issue."

He looked at her, waiting until her eyes met his to continue.  "I've never told anyone this, before.  I've gotten to this very moment...  Well, more than once.  But I've never gone past.  I can't.  Because I'm leaving.  I'm always leaving.  Sometimes something comes in the way when I think I'm about to move past this moment; fate's way of reminding me, I suppose, that this isn't for me, yet.  I have responsibilities to more than myself.  I can't allow myself to form the attachments that would prevent me from fulfilling them."

"Leander Adrastos...  That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."  She leaned in against him.  "And, in some ways, it just makes me more determined.  Let fate stop us!  Let it try!  We'll have our fun over its objections."

He breath was hot on his neck as she moved against him, clothes still separating them.  His hands clenched in her dress, pulling her closer, ever closer.  He buried his face in her hair, drinking in the scent of her, like seafoam and coconut.

And so he didn't see the wave coming until it washed over them.  The force of it pushed them apart and washed the torch away, quenching its flame.  She tumbled away, writhing and turning to rise up in a crouch, moon playing off her skin and hair.  He looked at her as if to say See?

She laughed again.  He loved the sound.  It was, perhaps, one of the largest parts of his affection for her.  She looked the skies above, calling, "Okay, fates.  You may claim him a little longer.  But soon or late, I'll be able to walk his path with him, and you won't stop my claim then!  He will be mine!"

She stalked back towards him, eyeing the waves as if she expected them to push them apart again. Leander laughed.  "And you mine."

She smiled, and knelt to kiss his forehead.  "Of course."

He smiled and kissed her hand.  "But tonight, we can at least sit together."

Other posts on Scion and Leander.  Related recap.

Pistol Shrimp Interlude

Leander pushed hard at the ground, feeling his muscles protest over the damage that had been done to them by the supersonic blast of the nemean pistol shrimp. 

Not my finest moment.

He glanced around, examining the damaged Atlantean building he’d sought cover in.  In one corner, nestled in the hands of a skeleton clad in medieval armor, he spied it.  It shone at him, gilt dragon adorning it seeming to twist and turn stare at him.  He scrambled towards it, calling out to his teammates to continue their assault.

He gripped it, pulling it from the hands of the corpse thoughtlessly.  More details sprung out at him.  An image of the sun.  Red and white patterns chasing down the edges.  And an owl, nestled at the apex of the central point of the shield.  For an instant, his eyes caught on it.  And then he plunged into it.

Time stretched out as the owl spoke.  “Son of Battle, Mind-born, and child mine.  In times long past, I had another son who could claim rights to titles very similar to those, though he was adopted from a far land.  El Cid, they called him.  The Lord.  El Campeador.  The Champion.

He had a battle-prowess unmatched, and while he fought for a Christian cause, he was well-respected by the Muslims.  And beloved by the Gods.

He carried this shield, and it rewarded him for his battle-wisdom, allowing him to turn mortal wounds into mundane harms and to turn assaults aside with deft prowess.  He took aside his men before each battle and sought their insight and wisdom to add to his own and taught them all the lessons of my chosen.  For many years, he warred and was undefeated, gaining ever higher heights.  And then he passed on into legend.

His son, himself imbued with divine essence had died.  And little was left for El Cid.  And so he departed.  His shield was given to his wife and was taken by the Muslims who removed her from her reign.  One of their number carried it with him for he was a Scion of the Gods, as well.  His journeys brought him here.

And he was laid low, for none may claim the protection of my child’s shield without my blessing.  He died here and none of his companions could take the shield from his grasp, for I would not allow it to be.

It was El Cid’s.  Now it is yours.  You cannot carry it from this place, for I would not have our enemies know it has returned to the field of battle.  But when the time is right, it shall find your hand.  You shall strike them down.”

Leander blinked, at heard the sounds of combat resume.  It seemed as if only an instant had passed though he was sure his reverie had been minutes long.  He dropped the shield, gilt once more buried in a layer of silt and grime.  Pushing off, he emerged into battle once more, striking out with spear and command.  Unconsciously, he maintained space around his free arm, as if compensating the presence of a shield…

Other posts on Scion and Leander.  Related recap.

Rohk'narani

Kneeling down, she stared at the icy footprint settled upon sandy shore near Sen'jin Village.  "Ya, mon.  Dis be from one of my kind.  A death knight walked de path of frost here."

Rohk'narani felt the witch docter behind her tense.  Perhaps he was looking for the other death knight, perhaps he was just disturbed by how casually she refferred to her new role in life.  Many who had fought the Scourge, who feared the Lich King, were uncomfortable around the raised former mortals who made up the Knights of the Ebon Blade.  Rohk'narani could no longer identify with that fear.

"Dey come ashore near da village, but where dey go?"

"De tracks are not trollish.  Unlikely dey could be hiding in Sen'jin.  De hills nearby, maybe," answered the death knight, her gaze lingering on the hills as if it could reveal her prey.

"You'll be huntin him, den?"

Rohk'narani nodded, finally looking at the frightened witch doctor.  "I be, yah.  For da Darkspear."

The witch doctor visibly relaxed.  "For da Darkspear and da Horde, sistah."

---

Rohk'narani stalked through the barren hills of Durotar, headed northeast from Sen'jin Village.  There was no way to be absolutely sure which way the death knight had gone, but she had suspicions.  Vol'jin had returned from Pandaria in the recent days and captured Razor Hill, headquartering his rebellion against Garrosh there.  It was the only logical place for an a lone agent to be trying to sneak up upon.

But be dey Alliance or Horde?

Rohk'narani descended into a narrow gorge, slowing her steps and holding her sword ready.  Dis clearly be a trap.  De question be, be it worth springing?

Shaking her head softly, she pushed on.  It was possible the other death knight had come to join Vol'jin.  Many members of the Horde had, especially from non-Orcish races.  It was why Rohk'narani had come, after all. She remembered all too well what came of a hot headed leader, as Garrosh was, chasing blindly after weapons of great power.

---

She was sure she was in Bwonsamdi's realm, a spirit consigned, as was proper, to the death god.  But something tugged at her, like a tidal flow out to the sea.  She descended, coming to rest in a corpse.  Her corpse.

"Rise, servant of the Lich King, rise and attend."

She did.  Momentarily, she wondered if she was a ghoul, if this was what they'd felt as she marched against them.  But in the considering, she realized that there was too much left of her mind for her to be a ghoul.

The death knight who'd spoken to her beckoned.  "Come, newling, come.  Our master has a task for you."

Obediently she followed, not remembering her master but sure his will was her every want or need.  The death knight, face hidden behind helm and hood, directed her into a long wooden building.  Inside, prisoners were chained to stakes in the floor.

The death knight led her forward ubtil they came to a stop before a tall Troll, battered and beaten, but clearly still defiant.  In that moment, she remembered being Troll, being Darkspear.  The Troll looked up at her and gasped.

"Narani!  You live!  I was sure you had fallen!  Let them chain you; they be beatin us all like dogs otherwise.  De Horde be bringin rescue soon, no doubt."

Narani.  As before, in thst moment she remembered.  She had been Narani, warrior of the Darkspear, sent against the terrible Scourge of the Lich King.  This Troll before her; she'd leapt to his defense has he nearly fell to the Undead. She could remember her concern for him, her fear for herself, her anger at the Loa for letting things come to this.  Remembered those emotions, but no flame of them lived in her.  Not even an echo.  They were gone.

The Troll must have seen it.  "Oh... Mah sistah, what dey done to ya?"

The death knight gazed at her from beneath his hood.  She could feel the command of his master, her master.  She extended a hand and into it the death knight placed a knife.  Her fingers closed around the hilt, but as she wielded it, she felt nothing at all...

---

Rohk'narani was dragged from her reverie by bands of power pulling her from the floor of the gorge to its rim.  She landed on her feet and immediately tensed, scanning the ridge for the death knight she knew must be close.

She found him sitting on a rocky hoodoo nearby.  She assessed him quickly.  An older Orc when he died, one eyed and grizzled.  He'll favor the right because the left is the one gone.  Two handed axe, likely following Frost teachings.

The Orc nodded at her as if he'd heard her assessment.  "Sister."

She shook her head.  "Not a way to be greetin a sister."

"You were walking away from me.  We needed to talk."  The Orc shrugged.  "You know of Vol'jin's revolution."

"I do be aware.  That be why you are here?"  Rohk'narani moved towards the other fighter cautiously, but trying to convey a readiness to talk.

"Of course.  Someone must remind the people their loyalties to the Horde," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Razor Hill.

Rohk'narani paused, pondering the words.  "Indeed."

"So many have strayed from the path of the Horde.  Our responsibility to this world," continued the Orc, gesturing from earth to sky.  "Someone must take them in hand, make them remember."

Rohk'narani muttered the words she'd so often heard before. "De Horde is family."

The Orc grinned at her.  "Yes.  And one must always be loyal to one's family."

"So you come ta join Vol'jin then?"

The Orc barked a laugh.  "I come to bury him.  If you are wise, you will join me troll and return to the side of the Warchief."

For a moment, Rohk'narani stared at him, wondering how he could not see the logic in her words.  Then, down deep, in a place she would have denied still existed, she began to simmer.  In truth, many death knights were like this Orc.  They still carried their own agendas, now that they were free of the Lich King.  She'd seen them laugh, and cry, and unleash furious rage.  True, some were cold, as she was, but many had merely been tempered by their transformation and still carried the person they had been within them.  Her anger lived.  And this Orc had stoked it.

He seemed to know he'd tipped his hand.  "Come now, girl.  If Vol'jin continues this farce, it weakens the Horde.  The Horde which protects your people.  The Horde which welcomed you back after your transformation.  I know the rumors are true that Vol'jin has even allowed the Alliance to join him in his mad quest."

Rohk'narani brought her blade up.  "Garrosh be mad.  He be reachin for power like the Lich King did."

"And why should he not?  The Horde should be strong.  It should crush the Alliance and claim our birthright!"

"Even if it mean we all be monsters?"

"I am no worse for wear."  He struck, blurring forward and swinging hard at her midsection.  Only because she had been sure the attack was coming was Rohk'narani able to bring her guard up in time.  She swung away and around, lashing back out towards his head.  He'd already moved, though, off to her left.  He flung a bolt of cold at her and followed with necrotic energies fueled by his own unlife.  Rohk'narani grit her teeth as the attacks scored against her armor, slowing her.

But not her anger.  Even as her limbs momentarily numbed from the blast of frost, her anger flamed to new heights, spurring Rohk'narani to action.  She leapt across the distance, blade forward, and scored her first hit of the combat, impaling the Orc's right shoulder.  He shoved at her, and her blade came free as she stumbled back.  Laboring, he charged forward, but missed as his right arm refused to stay level.  Rohk'narani grinned at him.  Let's see how you be doin havin only your weak side.

The Orc snarled at his inability to hit her.  He swung again, wildly missing her.  Rohk'narani stepped inside his open guard and thrust her sword into his gut.  He crumpled, coughing blood.

"You haven't won, troll.  There will be others.  The Warchief will crush your entire traitorous race."

"Your Warchief be a madman.  Dis be justice."

Coughing again, the Orc spat blood at her.  It hit Rohk'narani in the face, just above her left eye.  "You'll all fail.  The True Horde shall win out."

Rohk'narani sneered at him, raising her hand to smear the blood on her forehead down, past her eye, in the shape of a spear.  "You won't be there to see it."

Grinning savagely, she raised her sword high and plunged it down, into his breast.  "For da Darkspear!  FOR DA HORDE!"

---

The witch doctor winced as he pressed the needle into the skin above Rohk'narani's eye.  Calmly, she told him, "Stop.  If you flinch, it may ruin da image.  I assure you, I be not movin."

The witch doctor nodded, continuing his work more steadily.  "And then what, sistah?"

Rohk'arani paused for a moment, contemplating feelings foreign after years of cold.  "And then I be joinin Vol'jin.  And we be bringin down Garrosh."

The witch doctor leaned back, finished.  Sitting up, Rohk'narani lifted a finger to the tattoo of the Darkspear running down over her left eye, where the death knight's blood had been.  Smiling, she whispered, "For da Horde..."

Leander Talks to Elene

This piece is set between sessions, while Leander was bunked out in the hotel bathroom in order to protect himself from the Arachne-spawn.

“Are you certain about that, Leander?” asked the female voice over the line, proper and calm.

“Am I certain that I was attacked by a swarm of spiders riding in a human body?  Absolutely,” replied Leander, forcing the irritation out of his voice.  Elene isn’t doubting it.  Just gathering facts.

“And it told you it was a child of Arachne?”

“Yeah.”  Leander adjusted his tactical vest, the transformed armor of Ulysses.

Leander paused as he could sense Elene thinking.  After a moment, he asked, “Did you ever hear of her having children before?”

“No, the stories tell nothing of it, but that means little, in the end.  It seems clear that Arachne, after being cursed by your mother, tied her fate to that of the Titans.  They would be well equipped to grant her the ability to spread her curse.”

Leander frowned.  “So that could be a biological child…”

“Or it could be some poor soul transformed by the transmitted curse.”

“That raises some ethical questions…”

“Does it, Lee?”

Leander nodded, though Elene couldn’t see the action over the phone.  “Yeah.  If it’s the curse, it might be broken.  No doubt the person may be damaged permanently in some way, but there could be hope.”

“And if it is not?”

“If it’s not, it’s just another Titanspawn.”  Leander shifted, keeping his muscles from locking up in the uncomfortable confines of the tub in which he sat.

“And you will do what you have trained to do.”

“Of course.”

“What if the curse cannot be broken.  After all, none but your mother or Zeus could free Arachne…  If the Titans have twisted her curse, then any infected in such a manner may be beyond saving.”

Leander sighed.  “Then I’ll have to put it down.  I suppose that’s the most likely course.  If I was making that kind of sleeper agent, I’d be sure to make them unable to be re-turned.”

“Indeed.  Have you thought on the actions of Detective Kei and his Atua bretheren?”

“You mean the fact that they seem to have something to hide?”

“Yes.”

“Trust is tricky.  It could be like you warned me before; we don’t know who is turned and Pele’s own family could be behind her disappearance.  Or it could be that they suspect us for the very same reasons.  Undoubtedly, they know where we are and are watching.  It’s what I would do.”

“I have no doubts,” replied Elene.  Leander could hear her smiling.

“Thank you for talking it through with me, cousin.”

“Of course.  Tell me, cousin…  Have you found a nice island girl yet?”  Elene laughed, dropping the formal mode of speech she often adopted in her researcher role.

“It’s a business trip, Ellie.  Can’t get distracted.”

“You think cousin Nick is doing that?”

“I’m not worried about who he’s seeing, so long as it isn’t the spider-lady.”

“Probably wise.  I’m being called back, Leander.”

“Then I’ll speak to you later, Elene.”

“Sleep well, cousin…  Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Ha. Ha.”

Thorren in Combat

The axe crashed down at Thorren, but he was ready, clawed gauntlets already in place to deflect the blow.  It was rare something towered over Thorren’s 9-foot-tall frame, but this Iron Vrykul managed it.  Despite the defeat of the Lich King, some years before Thorren’s departure from Thunder Bluff, the Vrykul remained hostile to the non-Vrykul races.  This one had pushed into Horde territory near Warsong Hold, far from the usual haunts of the Vrykul.

The Vrykul leapt back as Thorren swung at its gut, seeking to tear into the half-giant’s midsection and end the fight.  Thorren had been in Northrend at an elder Shaman’s request, journeying with a message to the Taunka tribes of the frozen north.  The Vrykul pushed forward again, snarling rage at the “fleshy cow!”

Thorren laughed in its face as the half-giant’s spittle flecked onto him.  “I’m no cow, servant of death, I’m a bull!”

With a mighty shake of his head, Thorren raked his horns across the Vrykul’s face, driving the half-giant back.  It howled in fury and raised a hand to grasp at the rent across his face.  It swung blindly with its axe, trying vainly to hit the Tauren, but Thorren had shoved back.  Muttering briefly, he raised a fist to the sky and let a bit of blessed powder loose into the crisp air of the Borean Tundra.  At his side, a pair of spectral wolves sprung into view, howling their master’s fury.  As the Vrykul recovered, the wolves darted forward, sprinting around and biting at its flanks.

Thorn dropped back a step and felt out toward the elements around him.  He drew upon the electricity of the storms that raged throughout the north.  Pausing for thanks to the spirits of the elements, he drew back a hand and pushed it forward with explosive force, lightning leaping from his claw and arcing towards the metal body of the Iron Vrykul.  Between the assault of the wolves and the lightning, the half-giant crumpled.  Thorren stepped forward anew, the wolves prowling in search of a further threat, and searched the Vrykul.  Nothing showed why it had come so far, but if it had slipped past the Taunka, it concerned Thorren.  He was sent to rally Taunka allies in the face of Garrosh’s corruption of the Horde.  If they’d befallen dangers or been abandoned by Garrosh’s forces and fallen to the Vrykul it would be a mighty blow against the power base being gathered by Baine Bloodhoof, young High Chieftan of the Tauren.

Thorren scowled at the thought and called out to his mount, a large and heavily armored wind rider.  It bounded close and stood still as Thorren climbed astride it.  With a word, the wind rider leapt to the skies and Thorren set out seeking the Taunka.

A Thorren Scene

Thorren stared down onto the plains, shifting slightly as the winds sweeping down from the north buffeted his muscular frame.  He breathed shallowly, eyes searching.  It had been years since he last patrolled Thunder Bluff this way, years since the Cataclysm had roused him from the complacence of never straying from Mulgore, following the duty his family had performed for generations as the defenders of the wandering Tauren tribes.  His grandfather, Enroc, first of the Bluffwatch name, had watched for Centaur marauders and Quillboar.  His mother, Deshra, had fought Centaur and followed Cairne when the High Cheiftan joined the Horde, speaking powerfully against Grimtotem detractors who decried the Tauren’s interactions with other races.  Thorren honored them.  But his duty had called him away from the bluffs.

Thorren spied the lioness a few moments before it sprung upon the zhevra.  The equine beast cried out in fear, but it was already too late.  Thorren’s eyes tracked on.  To the west of them, a kodo train marched toward the outpost, shaking the earth.  In the past, the Alliance would raid these trains in the name of self-defense against the Horde.  Today, though, Thorren feared no Alliance hand.  The humans were occupied, he’d heard, with a Naga incursion in Night Elf lands.  No, today he searched for Taurens.

The thought boiled within him.  He’d been away from Thunder Bluff when Garrosh fought the mak’gora against Cairne, delivering messages to Camp Narache.  Away when the Grimtotem betrayed their people, perpetrating their heinous bloodlust against their own homeland.  Away when Baine, son of Cairne, was driven from Thunder Bluff and many of Thorren’s fellow shamans perished beneath Grimtotem blades.  Away when Thunder Bluff was retaken.  Away when his mother was killed for trusting Orcs, Trolls, and Elves.  Thorren snorted in fury.

The Grimtotem have much to answer for.

He glanced over his shoulder at his compatriots.  “They may have abandoned the plan.  I don’t see them anywhere.”

The female Troll shaman ostensibly leading the group nodded.  “We look elsewhere den.”

Thorren nodded back, shifting his grip on his clawed weapons in frustration.  He shot a final look down to the field, noting the progress of the kudos, before turning to follow his friends down the rise.  Another day.

A Leander Scene

Leander stared at the dusky valley below, counting the moments between bursts of gunfire-wrought light which marked engagements between rival forces like the moments between lightning and thunder.  It was actually much the same principle; he could tell the flow of the battle by those flashes.  The seconds between flashes told him how certain of the enemy’s position the combatants were; the faster they came and the longer they lasted, the more likely it was that the two sides knew exactly where one another were.  Similarly, the movement of the flashes in those seconds told him which side was pressing forward and where.  The forces moving northeast to southwest were driving forward.  Those were the troops of the rebel faction that had sprung up in this countryside.  Rebels only because they were too numerous and organized to be called “bandits.”  They’d razed an entire town two days past when they found it too poor for their tastes.

In a moment, Leander would lead his troops down into the fray, joining the policing force sent by the regional government.  But he waited now, watching the flashes.  Behind and to his left, one of the men shifted.  Leander guessed it was Ivers, ostensibly second in command here, but still new to the position and unused to the men leaning on his direction.  Lee shook his head and muttered, “Take a breath, Terry.  Give it another moment.  I know it looks like our side is being routed, but give it a minute.  They’re not breaking; they’re pulling back to that ridge on the far side of the treeline.  They’ll put a stand together there and we’ll come down the hill.  The rebels will be caught between us.  We’ll cut their avenue of retreat first, then sweep in.”

“Are… Are you sure, Lee?” gulped Ivers, clearly not calmed by Leander’s plan.

“No.  I can’t be.  They could push to the hill faster than we expect.  A segment of the police force could break and run too soon.  They could have a rear guard that I can’t see from here.  Or reinforcements pushing in that we hadn’t been told were inbound.  No plan is certain.  No plan is perfect.  But this is what I see from here.  And this is what we’re going to move forward with it.  If something changes, we’ll have to change with it.  Tally off a third of our force.  You’ll push to the northwest, swing around and come back in.  You’ll be our reserve force in case of a surprise.”

Leander finally looked back over his shoulder at Ivers, lifting the M16 he’d had before his waist.  The other man still looked nervous but nodded.  Lee ran the costs in his head, adjusting already the calculations he’d made while staring down at the battlefield.  A taste of command in a low pressure situation.  That might help him settle a bit.  And those numbers won’t press away my theoretical advantage, but might save me if their reinforcements do arrive.  If none come, he’ll be with me before things get really hot.  Worth the risk.

Nodding to himself more than to Ivers, Leander raised a handheld red-LED light to signal the nearby troopers.  Two quick flashes and Ivers moved off to gather his third of the men.  Lee turned on his heel and strode to the point where the slope down toward the valley intensified.  Without looking back to see if he was followed he started down, picking up pace as he loped into battle.