Yay necrophilia! Seriously though, nice writing. I like how that head of yours never stops. Keep it up!
Bwahaha, you know, I just read a hilariously bad Naruto/WoW crossover (yes, really) where the author seemed to be confused about why nobody of other races seemed willing to have kids with the Forsaken.
Anyway thanks. And don’t worry, Sarah and Dor’ash ain’t ever going to get romantically involved. It’s a sister and brother relationship and so it will remain. Although he sometimes sees her as a daughter instead.
And if I may say so, I freakin’ love this part.
He thought he heard an echoing snarl, and Sarah collapsed on the ground. The black chains around her rushed backwards, flowing into the back of her head. He would have been so much more relived if they had shattered, but it was too much to hope for. And then, perhaps she would have died, anyway. That damning power was what kept her animated.
The end of the last chain disappeared, and her hands twitched.
Nobody else moved as she pushed herself to her knees, then further to her feet. The wind hollowly wailed from the entrance, and Sarah’s bones scraped the ground as she worked her way up. Slowly she straightened, lifting her unmoving face towards Dor’ash. He hardly dared to breathe. The chains were gone, but…
Her hand rose up, perching against the leather covering his chest. All the while, she gazed up at him, smiling faintly.
“You know,” she said, “I’d claw your eyes out for being an asshole, if it wasn’t for the fact that I truly love you right now.”
“Keep a distance, if you please,” Dor’ash replied, turning only slightly and gazing at her sideways. He grinned wide despite the words, however, and saw no reason to cease doing so.
“My commends,” the swordsman spoke up, and he actually did smile a bit. Glancing around, Dor’ash found with some surprise that the same expression were on the other Forsaken’s faces too, with no trace of the usual shades of cold, cruelty and lack of empathy. He wondered if he could even begin to understand what it meant to them, since this touched them so deeply.
It faded quickly from the swordsman’s face, however, and all traces of it were gone as he spoke again.
“But, does he leave it at that?” he asked, and the air itself seemed to stiffen as the Forsaken all turned grim.
Sarah froze, her fingertips drawing four lines in Dor’ash’s chest armor as her hand drew into a fist. He didn’t care, watching her with a frown taking over his features. That far, he had not thought – but yes, the Lich King supposedly held the minds of all his servants, didn’t he?
With a twitchy motion Sarah turned away from Dor’ash, and nodded.
“Something’s coming.” She scratched her chest, gazing towards the gaping hole leading into the snow storm. “He touched me. He knows we’re here. What a pain.”
Though her tone sounded composed, Dor’ash had never seen her scratch herself before. Violently, too. She ceased when he brushed a finger against her shoulder, but what remained of her eyebrows hung low.
“Scourge?” he asked, grimly.
“I don’t know what. I don’t know how many.” She shook her head, under the intense gaze of everyone in the cave, although the draenei didn’t understand. “But he said something would come and find me.”
“Fantastic,” the swordsman said, chuckling throatily. “And I thought we’d only get to kill a few ogres and one or another Syndicate member up here.”
Before he saw the other Forsaken crack up in grins, Dor’ash had thought that the leader was being sarcastic when he said the first word. But now the man turned towards the cave entrance, fingering his sword thoughtfully.
“I wonder, almost anything can crawl up from the Plaguelands but it would have to be something nearby,” he said, mostly to himself. “Something that is quick but could fend off the inhabitants here. Something that could carry whatever else it kills along the way. He probably scrounged up even more when he felt us find her. Now it’s not just one measly Forsaken he could catch.”
“And what are you planning to do about it?” Dor’ash asked. Part of him wanted to put a protective hand on Sarah’s shoulder. The rest of him knew that she would not appreciate that at all.
“This is a good place. We could hold it.” The swordsman’s grin was about as crazy as Sarah’s rambling from before. “You don’t expect us to run away or anything, or do you? From the Scourge?”
“We don’t know what it is,” Dor’ash pointed out, but he had no plans on trying to escape, either. He knew an unforgiving snow storm when he saw one, and they had no idea from where the enemies were approaching. This cave would at least be, as the Forsaken said, defendable.
“What does it matter?” the swordsman said. “If there is Scourge hunting here, we will deal with it.”
Might Sarah be able to open a portal to flee through, if need be? Dor’ash studied her, and wondered if she herself knew whether she had the strength. However, she kept her gaze aimed at the entrance, face set in determination.
Another thought struck, of something – some people – that the shaman had to admit he had momentarily forgotten all about.
“And what about the draenei?” he said, straightening up.
“Hmm?” The swordsman turned around and looked at the hoofed men and woman, who bristled under his and the others’ eyes.
The Forsaken exchanged glances. Finally, the leader shook his head.
“Too much of a bother to try killing them now,” he said. “We can’t waste our energy. Let’s save them for later.”
“That’s not what I-!” Dor’ash started.
“Tell them to behave, will you? I don’t think they’ll listen to us.”
With that, the Forsaken headed towards the exit to make their plans of defense. Only Sarah lingered where she was. Sighing, Dor’ash turned to the draenei and walked towards them. Without a word Sarah followed him, staying close for each step he took. When he stopped, she turned towards where her people had gone, but didn’t move away.
“What’s going on?” Coran demanded.
“She broke free of the Lich King’s attempts to snare her, but something is coming,” Dor’ash said, motioning at Sarah and the outside world respectively. “We don’t know what. Whatever it is, it wants to kill us all and they want to kill it so much that they don’t care about you right now.”
Sarah turned around while he spoke, looking between him and them. Glancing down, he saw her raise an eyebrow at him, but it was brief and she didn’t ask anything. The eyebrow sunk back, and she glanced towards the other Forsaken, at the exit. Then she looked away again, staring at the floor.
“Something like what?” Subonai demanded, eyes thin as needles as he glared between Dor’ash and the undead blocking the only escape route.
“Scourge,” Dor’ash said, not even feeling like adding a sour “what else.” Before, the vindicator’s unyielding aggressive stance had annoyed him, but now it was definitely justified.
“They don’t care about killing us now, but what of later?” Valenia asked. Her arms were folded tightly to her chest, dainty claws buried in the folds of her elbows.
They all spoke in low voices, realizing it might get even more problematic if the Forsaken heard them.
“I know you would not want to trust me,” Dor’ash said, looking between them as he scowled with determination, “but I will not stand by and let them kill you, I swear that.”
His gaze wandered back to Malo at the end. Slowly, the other shaman nodded. The other three looked to him, hesitance apparent in their eyes.
“I would trust you,” Malo said, and then Coran nodded the slightest bit, if stiffly. Looking past Dor’ash, the draenei shaman frowned. “But you are worried about them, I can tell.”
“I don’t expect them to value honor, no.” Dor’ash could not deny that, and he would not lie to give them false hope. He turned to the hunching woman at his side. “Sarah, can you do anything here?”
She stiffened, looking up at him with clenched teeth.
“I can’t turn all of them to sheep,” she said in Common, like him, and tried to force a smile. The failed joke only made her look even more uneasy.
“No, you used that trick on a warlock already,” he agreed. It was a just as weak joke, to recall the last time she had fought other Forsaken – her own kin, even. Clearing his throat, he looked at her more seriously. “But could you reason with them?”
“I don’t know, I- they-”
She fell silent, started to speak again and cut herself off again, looking away. Finally she clenched her fists and looked up, facing his concerned scowl. When she spoke again, she switched languages.
“I’ve brought you nothing but trouble lately, haven’t I?” she said, shaking her head.
Dor’ash watched her for a moment, eyebrows raised.
“How so?” He fell into Orcish, like her, forgetting that the draenei wouldn’t understand what was said.
“I got captured in Azshara, then I went nuts in Ratchet, and now this too.” She said so in a dull tone, where she should have been impatient.
Something was odd. Dor’ash narrowed his eyes, watching her stiff posture. Still, when he spoke he tried to sound at ease.
“Nonsense. I’m the one leading you on.”
“Well, yes. Fool.”
She turned her head again, glancing at the exit briefly before looking the other way with a twitch of her neck.
“Besides,” Dor’ash said, voice calm though his gaze never left her for a second, seeking any clue in her expression, “I’m the one who got captured this time, and you showed up with allies.”
For a moment a weak sneer flashed over her lips, but it faded almost immediately.
“Mm,” she mumbled, sounding distracted.
“Sarah.”
“Mh?” She looked up at him.
Watching her seriously, Dor’ash lowered his voice even more.
“I mean it, I don’t want the draenei to get killed by them,” he said, nodding towards the Forsaken.
“You’re such a sap.” She wet her lips, that human woman she had once been showing through again. Those little things popped up every now and again when she wasn’t thinking, but not as often now as they had when she just got her first wave of memories back. “Look, I’d love to reason with them for the sake of your new pets, but if I start acting weird they’ll think I’m being taken over again.”
As she spoke, she turned away and looked at the rotting people they spoke about.
“How do you know I’m fine, anyway?” she said, sounding distracted again.
No… not distracted, not exactly. Tense, and something else. Dor’ash studied her, jaw set tight.
“I saw a dark aura around you before,” he said, “it’s gone now.”
“It’s never gone, not really.” Her voice sunk. “He never shuts up. And now he’s angry at me.”
She stared towards the cave opening, where the other Forsaken stood like skeletal statues, waiting. One hand rose to her lips, and broken teeth bit down on bone.
“Are you feeling well, Sarah?” Dor’ash asked.
No reaction.
“Sarah,” he said, his voice deepening with his scowl.
“I’m… fine.” Yet she didn’t sound it, and a step backwards brought her so close her back brushed against Dor’ash’s armor. Without thinking he put a hand on her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the gap of whirling snow before looking down at her small form.
He had never seen her like this.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” he murmured.
Implausible as it was – she jumped as if stung, proving he was correct. Without a word he squeezed her shoulder tighter. Her face turned quickly between him and the Forsaken by the exit, then back again. Just checking to make sure that they were out of earshot and not looking. The draenei she ignored, safe in the knowledge that they probably didn’t understand the language.
“I had no idea,” she muttered in a tight whisper, shaking her head as she turned around to face him. “He came from inside of me and held me down and I couldn’t-”
She cut herself off, twisting her head in another direction. Still she didn’t move away, huddling close to him in a way she never, ever had before. Weeks ago in Drakamash Village, when she got her memory back and slumped against his chest after finally calming down, she’d still been herself. She had still been strong.
“Dor’ash,” she hissed, “Dor’ash, you have to kill me when it happens again.”
He shifted then, stepping between her and the exit before crouching down so that their eyes were at the same level.
“You have to focus,” he sternly said. “We’ll have our part to play too in this battle. Don’t slip on me now.”
“Dor’ash!” she snapped, hands slapping against his shoulders. He winced and she immediately released the pressure on the wounded arm, but didn’t move otherwise. Lowering her voice, she shook her head again. “Promise you won’t ever let him have me.”
“Sarah-” he started.
“It’s worse than anything, anything…” She stared at him, through the leather straps across her empty eyesockets. “What, do you have to hear it? You’re right, I’m scared.”
His expression didn’t change, but his good arm reached around her thin shoulders protectively.
“Don’t be,” he said.
From where they stood, the other Forsaken couldn’t see what was going on because Dor’ash’s massive bulk blocked the view. He was still startled when Sarah stepped closer again, burying her cold face in the curve of his neck like a frightened child. The fact that he still crouched was the only reason that she could reach.
“Allow me a moment,” she muttered, breathing cool air against his skin as she spoke. “You’ll never have to see the likes again.”
It wasn’t something he had been prepared for, but he just hummed and let her hide against him for a brief time. True that it was a moment of weakness on her part, but she certainly had good reason for her emotions. He wasn’t going to judge her because of it. Instead he shifted his grip of her to suit her forwards movement, holding her close.
The snow in her hair and robe melted against the warmth coming from his body, dripping down over his skin and armor.
Finally she straightened and glanced up at his face. Before he could say anything, however, Sarah turned her head to the side in a sharp motion.
“What are you looking at?” she snapped in Common, at the draenei.
“Huh…” Coran said, scratching his black hair.
He was the only one who said anything, vague as it were. Valenia just looked away and Subonai shook his head without a word. Silently, Malo met Dor’ash’s gaze and tilted his head to the side curiously.
“Dor’ash,” Sarah said.
“What is it?” he asked, looking back to her. He frowned, but it was without any trace of anger.
She looked calmer again, for what it was worth.
“I’m serious, Dor’ash,” she said, repeating his name again as if she believed that it alone would beseech him to listen to her. “Promise me I won’t be his slave again.”
For a moment, he just watched her, working his jaw.
“If there is absolutely no other way,” he finally said, gritting out the words. He felt compelled to spit after he had spoken, but controlled himself. There had to be another way, no matter what. There always had to be one.
She looked far too relieved when he studied her.
“Accepting you might die and expecting it are two different things,” he sternly said.
Sarah shook her head, glancing in the direction of the other Forsaken.
“It’s different for us,” she said. “If I was higher up in the Society they’d never even have gone to find you. I wouldn’t have let them, we can’t have the Lich King-”
She made a strange noise, fingers bending like claws and then freezing. Slowly, she looked up at Dor’ash’s face. His lips moved even slower than her head.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I’m… still not thinking straight…”
For a moment he just looked at her. Then, he let out a heavy sigh and let go of her to rub his forehead.
“Did you chose now to slip that little piece of information because I’m too distraught to get angry at you?” he asked.
“No, I- hm.” Sarah’s shoulders sagged. Though she would fry anyone saying so, she was really good at looking miserable when she was in that kind of mood. Most Forsaken were, when it got down to it. And you’d better not tell a single one of them that. “After we survive,” she said, glancing up again, “I’ll tell you about it, alright? For now, let’s just say I didn’t get a choice. Patrick liked to arrange things.”
That final sentence instantly ripped off a huge chunk of Dor’ash’s tension. Sarah fidgeted as she looked up at him, but raised her eyebrows when he snorted and half smiled.
“That explanation is all I need,” he said.
Action! New alliances formed! A silly Blizzardesque pop culture reference! HUGE UNDEAD FRIGGIN’ SPIDERS!
Naruto and WoW?! twitch 
WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?! Truth be told, I don’t bother much with fanfics these days. Sure, I have a couple that have been in the making since before the dinosaurs… Kinda depressing when you think about it. I’ll have to finish a story before the end of this year. I keep starting stuff and then I get a bad case of writer’s block even though the general outline and conclusion are already in my head… But in the meantime, I’ve got a couple of authors on my radar, and I stick to them because I know they’re good. Which reminds me, I really should check the stuff you have there on ff.net, but I’m too nervous because of the exams and keep looking for the right mood to read and… :hyperven: :thud:OK, time out… That’s better… Anyway, I seem to be getting in the right mood to read again, which is great. I hope I’ll be able to get some time to catch up on everything between the end of the exam season and the beginning of the second semester. Keep on writing! I promise I’ll read it all eventually.
There was far more lives at stake here.
Far more than lives?
but they wouldn’t be able to run outside more than one at a time – the opening in the cliff wasn’t wide enough.
This would probably be best integrated into one sentence. Something “there was no space for them/the opening i.t.c. wasn’t wide enough for them to run…” otherwise it sounds like pausing to discuss the geography of the area.
Deep down he reflected how ironic it was for an orc to be so desperate to save a few draenei. Or, perhaps, it was a tiny act of penance for his people. Still, he knew well that chances were great that the warlock would brand him a traitor if he wasn’t careful.
He tried not to think about the fact that even if the draenei managed to flee, they would leave tracks in the snow.
The draenei barges into the scene! And reflects. And thinks. And thinks some more. Sarah is probably staring at him in disbelief the whole time.
The Forsaken had been able to find them now
Ditch “now”; it’s implied.
but there’s a question of decency
Applying to the decency of the forsaken is rich. I like it.
Thin grey shadows grew out of the wall of twirling white, with a few steps fully emerging behind the felguard’s back.
That’s the spirit. The scene of the surrender is also good, but you might want to cut a bit of the descriptiveness when he sees Sarah (perhaps somewhere around “Had he been in a proper state of mind,”)
Sarah’s dialogue starts quite well, but "We’re pawns, less than pawns, far less, but he still wants all of us even though we’re useless, just a mass of hands and claws and and and he’s so loud…” seems overly dramatic. Ditto for “He says he’s proud of all this power I’ve found but it means nothing, does it? Nothing, he doesn’t care, he’s mocking, I still know that, I know it-! No!”. Especially the “No!” seems to destroy the sense of gravitas implied by her next words.
in an impossibly soft voice for one such as he.
Isn’t “for one such as he” implied? We know he’s [stereotype] Forsaken.
Yet, she was a Forsaken, and was she able to feel any such things strongly enough, as mortals could?
On the other hand, Dorash should have a little more faith in her. The question is valid (and the “she had none of that first” line you go down to later) but perhaps you should rephrase it.
Critique! Old men smoking pipes* and debating minutia! Damned kids on our lawns!
*Old Toby’s best. How funny is it that a book reaching regularly top 10 all-time lists (LOTR) is one where the here heals his subjects using tobacco while the stuff is increasingly campaigned against.
No idea, but the author pitched a hissy fit.
Truth be told, I don’t bother much with fanfics these days.
I tend to read what seems promising. Occasionally, I’m disappointed. Sometimes, I’m disappointed enough toand write snarky critiques. Which occasionally garners author tantrums.
Sure, I have a couple that have been in the making since before the dinosaurs… Kinda depressing when you think about it. I’ll have to finish a story before the end of this year. I keep starting stuff and then I get a bad case of writer’s block even though the general outline and conclusion are already in my head…
I’m in more-or-less the same position there.
But in the meantime, I’ve got a couple of authors on my radar, and I stick to them because I know they’re good.
Yeah, same here…although I keep going back to one forum on account of some sort of train-wreck fascination.
Which reminds me, I really should check the stuff you have there on ff.net, but I’m too nervous because of the exams and keep looking for the right mood to read and… :hyperven: :thud:OK, time out… That’s better… Anyway, I seem to be getting in the right mood to read again, which is great. I hope I’ll be able to get some time to catch up on everything between the end of the exam season and the beginning of the second semester. Keep on writing! I promise I’ll read it all eventually.
Yes…read Weiila’s stories! READ THEM!
so much more relived
Sarah froze, her fingertips drawing four lines in Dor’ash’s chest armor as her hand drew into a fist. He didn’t care
Come on, of course he didn’t care. I doubt you have to mention it.
“You don’t expect us to run away or anything, or do you? From the Scourge?”
“or anything” doesn’t do anything for me, but it’s your call.
“No, you used that trick on a warlock already,”
I didn’t think of that last time. Can that spell be used by forsaken in WoW?
but he just hummed
Nice bit of characterisation. I’m not too excited about the ‘he wouldn’t judge her for her emotions’. She’s having the scare/moment of her unlife after all.
she was really good at looking miserable when she was in that kind of mood. Most Forsaken were, when it got down to it
Last skill I’d think they’d have.
I think the tone here changes yet again, but I can’t pinpoint it (headache). It’s mostly good and you should probably reread the whole thing after it’s done to see where you stand.
Seconded. 
Thanks for the cheerleading squad acts, guys XD
And thanks as always Rig, I made some changes as usual and you’ll see the result when I post it on ff.net. I removed that thing about Dor’ash not judging Sarah for being afraid, it never sat perfectly well with me either.
There’s some more coming, I’ve just been busy with other things and tired. The essay has been sent to my supervisor, so now I just await her comments on what needs to be touched up before it can be passed through the process, and then I’ll be done 
And then you’ll be enveloped by a soft glow and feel a surge as you level up and revel in your raised statistics. Good job!
Haha, oh yes. Hope I’ll manage to take a screenshot on time XD
Anyway, I’ve gone from the Finish Essay quest (since I can’t do anything more until my supervisor NPC returns after being away from her post due to the in-game event First Few Weeks of New Term). Now I’m stuck on the much more dreary Fill in Paperwork for Unemployment Office and Write Job Applications questlines and can’t seem to move on before I’ve downed some epic mobs involved. Unfortunately these quests make the Office Word zone feel even less appealing to level in than the Essay quest did, and sucks out even more of my inspirational skill points.
I wish application letters were as funny to write as the text above. XD Out of epic dork mode, I’ve just applied for the unemployment office and is looking for jobs, and it really kills my inspiration for writing. I’ve gotten this part down though.
“Speaking of which…” Sarah said, sounding a lot more like herself again as she turned towards the female warlock and waggled her fingers, palm up. “My staff, Roxanne. Chopchop.”
“Ah, of course.”
The warlock stepped forwards, holding out Sarah’s magical staff. As she raised it, the crystals set at the tip of it flared up with a red glow despite the fact that they were colored pale violet.
“Sorry about that,” Roxanne said with a clattering shrug. “Happens every time. I don’t know why.”
Well, whatcha gonna do when you’ve sold your soul to the night, Roxanne?
On the upside, I’ve heard you get some gold upon completing these quests. Games where your character demands to be fed are often annoying.
Oh, uhm… gee… was it THAT long since I updated this one? Dang.
“That explanation is all I need,” he said.
“Really?” she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
He considered it for a second.
“For now, at least,” he added.
“Figures…” She tried to smirk, but didn’t do very well. “Look, I’m just an errand girl for the Apothecaries.”
Dor’ash opened his mouth to once again assure her that he had heard enough about it for the time being, but the sound of footsteps made him straighten and turn around. Quickly, Sarah stepped back from him as if trying to hide evidence of that moment of comfort.
It was the undead swordsman who approached, though a few of the other Forsaken walked a few steps behind him. Watching them, Dor’ash raised his eyebrows in a question, but remained silent. Now what?
He was quite surprised.
“Might the draenei be made useful?” the swordsman asked, and jabbed a bony thumb at the cave opening. “The snowfall is so thick that we won’t be able to see the damn things before they’re practically upon us. But the vindicators should be able to sense them, correct?”
Dor’ash blinked at this sudden opening, and thought very fast.
“I like that idea,” he said, thoughtfully. “And would you grant them free passage after the battle, if they helped us?”
“Pff! What?” the Forsaken said with a cruel chuckle, peering up at Dor’ash in disbelief.
The orc returned the look of cruel amusement with a sneer.
“No, I’m quite serious,” he said. “Do you think they would feel helpful if they thought that you would kill them?”
“Ahh, I see.” The swordsman’s amusement remained, but it took on a calculating tone as he nodded.
“Not only that,” Dor’ash said, hoping desperately that this wasn’t pushing his luck. “What I tried to tell you earlier was that since they captured me, I’ve played docile and helpful. I’ve often found that information garnered from trust is often better than that forced out. You understand, I’m sure.”
“Hmm…”
“Believe me, Shane,” Sarah said, stepping up beside Dor’ash. She half turned her head towards the draenei momentarily, then looked at the swordsman again and sneered while patting the orc’s arm. “The shorter vindicator had his sword at my throat but this darling dear here talked him out of it. If he says he’s got them trusting him, I believe he could pull it off.”
Though Shane had looked doubtful, he raised the remains of his eyebrows and looked between the two of them curiously. Several of the other Forsaken in the background looked similarly fascinated.
“How in Sylvanas’ name did you get that goodie-doer to think twice?” Shane asked.
“I appealed to his bleeding, blue heart,” Dor’ash said with half a shrug. He managed to grin.
For a moment Shane was silent, but then he gave a loud shrug.
“Tell them whatever,” he said, and grinned. “We want the vindicators to help, and we’ll decide afterwards if they seemed useful.”
It was not a promise, but it was more than Dor’ash could have hoped for. He contained the relief he felt and simply nodded, letting his lips twitch.
“Very well, I’ll try to talk them into fighting for their own sake,” he said.
“Speaking of fighting…” Sarah said and stepped forwards, sounding a lot more like herself again as she turned towards the female warlock and waggled her fingers, palm up. “My staff, Roxanne. Chopchop.”
“Ah, of course.”
The warlock moved forwards, reaching back and pulling a familiar looking staff from her back. As she raised it, the crystals set at the tip of it flared up with a red glow – despite the fact that they were colored pale violet.
“Sorry about that,” Roxanne said with a clattering shrug. “Happens every time. I don’t know why.”
She handed over the weapon to Sarah, and the crystals took on a glow more suitable for their coloring. With that, the Forsaken turned around and scuffled back towards the entrance of the cave. Only Sarah remained, following Dor’ash as he walked over to the draenei, who all stared at him tensely.
He wished that they could have communicated in a language that the Forsaken couldn’t understand, but his grasp of Draenei was limited to five words. There was no choice but to simply speak low and quickly, hoping there was no spying rogue sneaking close, unseen. But, on the other hand he trusted the spirits to warn him if that happened.
“Alright, you have to listen and trust me if you want to get away from here alive, understand?” Dor’ash said. He explained about the trouble with the snow storm, watching their pale, uncertain looks, and then, finally, “I told them that I’m spying on you. I don’t know if that’ll be enough for them to let me lead you away afterwards, but it might be our only chance.”
“What could we possibly know that would be that interesting?” Valenia whispered in a sharp hiss, on the verge of hysteria. Malo put a hand on her shoulder and she closed her glowing eyes, taking in a deep breath and sagging.
Dor’ash started to speak, but once again in a very short while, Sarah surprised him.
“Look at it from the bright side,” she said in a tone that wasn’t only sarcastic and teasing. “My friends there want to throw themselves at whatever is coming a lot more than the rest of us do.”
For that, she earned several odd, uncertain looks obviously wondering if she was trying to be encouraging. Being encouraging by implying that they might be able to crush the remains of the Forsaken defense if they saved their own strength.
Was she truly prepared to betray her own people again, especially those that had saved her from the Lich King’s grasp? Looking at her, Dor’ash couldn’t feel sure, and he neither could he decide if he really wanted her to be that kind of person. Even for the sake of protecting him and the draenei.
Then she looked up at him and grinned.
“You know I’m only looking out for you, mama,” she sweetly said, making Coran and the others blink in disbelief.
Despite all, that was enough to make Dor’ash swat at her head, and she ducked away with a soft chortle.
“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” he said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.”
He made a disgusted sound, but then shook his head and sobered. Turning to look at the draenei, he waited to let them digest their situation and their options. They recovered quite quickly from the disturbing nicknames and exchanged glances. Finally Coran wet his lips and gazed towards the surrounded exit of the cave.
“I sense only them,” he muttered and motioned at the Forsaken. “I suppose I would have to… stand closer, too.” That prospect obviously didn’t please him at all.
Subonai growled low in his throat, tail whipping back and forth in agitation, but he remained silent.
“Could you two not use your far sight to search for the approaching enemy?” Coran asked suddenly, looking between Dor’ash and Malo.
The two shamans exchanged glances and then nodded. Dor’ash turned towards the exit and narrowed his eyes. He would pay for all this use of this power later, he knew, with a pounding headache – he was not really good at it. Yet, it had been necessary before and it was very useful now.
His vision leaped into the white once again. Looking about he saw Malo’s glowing spirit close behind, leaving their prison so ridiculously easily. The outline of the draenei shaman met Dor’ash’s gaze and shook his head sadly, understanding the bitter irony. But neither of them could focus on that now, turning instead to the whirling world around them.
The wind was pure tendrils, filled with crisp little snowflakes. It toyed with them, casting them about playfully. But the winds that came from a certain direction did not play. They rushed, tearing past the snowflakes and tossing them aside in their rush, howling.
Evil unclean disgusting unnatural
Steeling himself Dor’ash leaped against the wind, following it backwards to see what it was fleeing from. Sooner than he would have wanted, he found the source of the spirits’ disgust. Beside him Malo hung frozen, an expression of terrified revulsion on his vague features – trying to figure out what he saw tearing through the snow on long, sticklike legs, fat, bloated bodies sweeping over the pure white ground. Eerily humanlike voices chattered and rasped to each other as the undead creatures moved forwards with one simple goal in sight.
Dor’ash guessed that the draenei never had seen these things before, and he himself wished that he never had laid eyes on them.
He really, really hated Nerubians.Oh, why the hate towards Nerubians? Being subjugated single-handedly wasn’t their fault 
“Pff! What?” the Forsaken said with a cruel chuckle, peering up at Dor’ash in disbelief.
This captures the character of the Forsaken quite nicely.
“What I tried to tell you earlier was that since they captured me, I’ve played docile and helpful. I’ve often found that information garnered from trust is often better than that forced out.
I’d suggest cutting out “What” and one of the two “often”. The first to lessen the condescension and make it more to the point and the second for redundancy reasons.
Good to see you chose to update this fic next I rather like its beginning and the paragraph on the next possible actions of Sarah injected some welcome sense of character.
Thanks for the cheer
… could somebody smarter than me explain to me why I keep getting into writing fighting scenes when I find them to be a pain in the ass to write?
Anyway…
The Forsaken were not exactly thrilled to hear the report when Dor’ash and Malo returned from their farsight scrying. Shane even grunted in annoyance before returning to his post by the exit, while the others muttered amongst each other, laying up quick plans – mostly of what to do if they would be caught by a web and ripped outside.
“What by the Light’s graces did I just see?” Malo said in a faint voice as soon as Dor’ash turned to him and the rest of the draenei.
“What are Nerubians?” Coran added, his fingers nervously twitching as if wanting to move to the hilt of his sword.
Dor’ash made a face, he couldn’t help himself. He had not seen one of those horrors ever since Hyjal, and had been very happy about that.
“You’ve seen centaurs, right?” he said.
Hesitantly, the draenei nodded – except for Malo, who rubbed his forehead while grimacing.
“Then you have an idea of their shape. Nerubians are much bigger,” Dor’ash said. “And they don’t really have a human or horse part, they’re huge spiders with an upper body. And needless to say, undead.”
A brief pause ensued, during which the draenei either exchanged glances or lost themselves in thought, building a mental picture of the creature that had just been described.
“This planet has too many things,” Subonai finally growled.
“How do we fight such beasts?” Malo asked, expression changing from dread to determination as he spoke.
For the first time in years, Dor’ash forced himself to think back on the battle on Hyjal. It had taken a lot of willpower to lock down the chaotic imprints on his brain, of rotten, flailing limbs on the ground and blood – blood in more than one color – splattered all over the moving mass of wailing undead. Every sense assaulted, sight with horrors, ears with unearthly cries, taste with bile, smell with the stench, and through it, the burning pain of every instantly infected scratch.
“The head is too far up to reach with weapons at close range,” he managed after a second of composing himself again. “The legs are too hard, but you can try to crush the knees to bring them off balance. If they fall, they can still flail and reach far with all their working legs. And most importantly they can shoot webs to catch their foes. We have to free each other quickly if anybody’s captured by those.”
He looked to his side, meeting Sarah’s no-gaze. From the look of her, she hadn’t moved or turned her sight away from his face for a second.
“I don’t care what the others do,” he said, “I’ll count on you to burn any webs off of us.”
“Can do,” she replied, lifting one hand to her forehead in a brief salute. Then the hand returned to its old position of clenching around her staff.
A thought struck suddenly and Dor’ash frowned.
“Have you ever fought Nerub–”
“No.”
He looked at her tense face and posture for a moment longer, then turned back to the draenei without commenting.
“You are in no prime condition to fight, either,” Valenia spoke up. She made a nervous motion towards Dor’ash’s wounded arm.
“From your description, I believe we want to stay as far away from these creatures as possible, anyway,” Malo pointed out. He frowned towards the icy outside world. “Fire… but the fire spirits are weak in this cold land.”
“We still have some firewood from what we gathered before the storm,” Coran pointed out, waving a hand towards the campfire. “If we feed the blaze, it will help you, no?”
“It would,” Malo agreed. “Do it right away.”
Nodding, Coran and Valenia hurried over to toss all the remaining branches and pieces of thawed, dried wood into the campfire. While they did this, Subonai remained silent, scowling towards the exit.
“You’re the tactician,” Malo told him suddenly.
The frown only grew deeper into the vindicator’s forehead. Then he turned towards Malo.
“A trap,” he said. “Not that we have much to work with, but anything that can help us somehow must be used.” He was silent for a moment, then threw a grudging look at Dor’ash. “How smart are these things?”
“They are commanded by the Lich King’s will,” Dor’ash replied, shaking his head. “He is no fool. The question is how important he thinks this is. I have no idea if he would or need to put focus into something small like this, or if some of his servants move with a bit of autonomy.”
“Even if I managed to piss him off by breaking free again,” Sarah suddenly said in Common, “this operation can’t be more than chasing after a few breadcrumbs. I can’t imagine that anyone of us are powerful enough to really catch his interest.”
It sounded as she was trying to calm herself with her own words, but at the same time it made a lot of sense. The hint of relief in her voice was probably valid. Dor’ash nodded at her with a grunted hum, wanting to give her some kind of comforting assurance but not managing more.
Together with Malo, he then quickly went about following the simple plan Subonai offered. It wasn’t much, but it might do some little good.
Then, they could only wait. Coran and Subonai moved to stand closer to the exit, but trying to at the same time stay as far away from the undead as possible.
Minutes slipped by at a snail’s pace. Nobody spoke apart from a few quick, whispered words. The Forsaken said nothing, only stood there in wait, seemingly unconcerned.
Dor’ash wasn’t sure how long had passed, not more than half an hour though, when Subonai straightened up with a sharp clatter of armor and Coran nervously muttered to him.
“Something is outside,” Subonai said.
The Forsaken chattered amongst themselves, raising their weapons. Dor’ash’s muscles tensed, and he glanced quickly at Sarah. She stared at the exit, edging closer to him.
Big, grey shadows gathered outside. They were so deep within the wall of whirling snow that the legs were invisible, and the plump bodies seemed to hover in the storm, unconcerned with the hard wind.
“Don’t go anywhere, Sarah,” Dor’ash said, reaching out to put his good hand between her and the rest of the world.
“If you say so,” she shot back. Despite her sarcastic words, she didn’t even try to hide the tone of relief. Probably didn’t have enough focus to spare for that.
A Forsaken warrior cried out sharply, leaping back. The man beside him was not so quick, and a thick, white rope hit him in the chest where it stuck. Almost no snow clung to the cord, so quickly had it crossed the air outside. One of the undead mages flung her hand towards the rope, but the blast of fire only singed the back of the warrior’s armor as he was forcefully yanked outside. His angry shriek disappeared amongst the winds, and the hovering shadows dove towards a singular point.
“Now!” Subonai barked.
Instantly Malo threw up both his arms, Dor’ash his one good. The mages and warlocks cried out in near unison. Arcane projectiles swarmed outside, just as the shamans’ fire totems, hidden in the snow, exploded. The Nerubians screeched and scattered, but one of them, having taken the brunt of the magical assault, collapsed.
However, then the shadows skittered back, and sticky ropes whipped through the entrance at the fleeing Forsaken, as well as inky bolts of pure malevolent power that uselessly tore at the opening.
And now the dilemma was apparent.
They were relatively safe inside the cave, as the Nerubians could not make it inside for their great bulk. However, that also made a charge outside risky, as even though the Forsaken were thin, they would not be able to squeeze through en masse, an approach that would give the Scourge ample time to see them and pick them off before they got through.
But they had to fight back somehow.
A warlock dashed across the floor with a complaining imp at his heels. In mid-run he threw out his arm and sent a wave of fire through the exit. The Nerubians screeched, but only in anger, none in pain. Others followed the warlock’s example, ducking web threads at the best of their ability.
There were quirks that came with being a shaman, but Dor’ash had never considered himself very powerful. However, there was no other explanation for how he could act without warning. On pure instinct he lashed out his arm in front of Sarah’s face, just when a sticky rope shot through the opening and across the cave – proving that they had not stood far enough inside, after all. The rope slapped into his glove and immediately went taut, jerking so hard that he stumbled forwards, for a moment thinking his shoulder would be pulled out of joint. Then Sarah furiously shrieked, and a blast of fire tore the rope to ashes. Dor’ash stumbled backwards, and from outside an angry, hoarse screech could be heard as one of the Nerubians momentarily lost its balance.
Immediately waves of fire and arcane projectiles flared out from the hands of the Forsaken who were skilled in magic, and the screech rose higher before silencing suddenly.
Growling in pain Dor’ash shook his hand and arm, though relieved that he could still use it. He looked around, but Sarah was already beside him, clamping her hand forcefully onto his sleeve. He felt the pressure as her sharp fingertips dug into the leather beneath the fur.
“Good save,” he muttered.
She made a croaky humming sound, tightening her grip of him. Suppressing the instinct to grab her shoulder and draw her closer to him, Dor’ash straightened and focused on what was in front of them.
The battle was a drawn out, twisted game of chances and risks. The magic users leaped back and forth in front of the cave opening, setting off blasts of magic, ducking the black flares and sticky threads aimed at them. Those with no ability to use such attacks attempted to confuse the Nerubians to waste a web by also leaping back and forth, dodging as best they could, giving the mages and warlocks a brief opening. It seemed as if it would merely be a question of undead persistence, and which group could keep this up for the longest.
And then Coran suddenly threw a confused look over his shoulder just as he rushed across the floor to help confuse the Nerubians. He skidded to a halt, hooves screeching against the hard rock ground, turning around and twisting his head back and forth, looking down.
“Subonai–?” he called, sounding very much like he wanted to doubt his senses.
Dor’ash turned to see the other vindicator spun around, staring at the ground in disbelief. It had to be pure rock. Had to be.
He met the milky yellow glow from Shane’s suddenly wide eyes. Sarah hissed.
The cave floor cracked.
“Melee, at the ready!” Shane hollered.
Dor’ash caught Subonai’s furious, accusatory gaze and returned it with a quick, disbelieving shake of his head. He hadn’t said a word about Nerubians being able to tunnel through stone, because he had never known they could do that. At that point in time, neither the Horde nor Alliance had yet descended into the depths of Azjol-Nerub or Ahn’kahet and seen just how persistent the undead spider creatures could really be.
Another crack, and then chunks of rock flew in all direction as the first monstrous body tore through, giving them all a full view of just what they were fighting. The shadows flared with hastily cast magic and the nervously flicking camp fire, only partly cloaking the flailing legs and swinging body. Snow clung to the patchy, moldy fur covering parts of the swollen hind part and the thinner other, rounded tagma as well as the vertically rising chest.
Its huge exposed fangs swung, clattering together as it hissed and launched itself towards the largest group, that being most of the Forsaken and Coran. A skeletal warrior immediately got in the way of a swinging leg and was sent flying, hitting the wall and crashing on the floor with a hard clatter. Dor’ash cursed and recoiled, shoving Sarah behind him without even thinking. She followed his motion and ducked out of sight, but in the next moment swept out on the other side of him, flinging a fireball towards the snarling Nerubian’s back. It didn’t react, too busy swinging away at the scattering Forsaken in front of it to care that its back briefly caught fire.
Another bipedal claw hand was already thrashing around the edge of the gap from below, warning that another Nerubian was on its way.
In the moment of confusion, a sticky rope whipped inside and snatched the warlock Roxanne by her ankle. She fell over, screeched while she clawed at the floor, and was ripped outside. With a furious snarl, her felhunter loped outside after her.
“Get away from the freakin’ door!” one of the other Forsaken shouted, a little too late.
“Out of my way!” Subonai roared and charged.
The second Nerubian stuck its head out of the hole only to be met with a sideways swing from a mace. It recoiled, but with a loud crack the mace connected with one of the spider’s horizontal tusk. The broken off piece hit the ground as the Nerubian shrieked in fury and hauled itself onto the floor to chase after Subonai, who was now charging towards the first spider. That one turned around at the unexpected cry of its ally and snarled at Subonai.
The draenei’s shield arm flew up above his head and parried a downwards smash from wicked claw fist, and he spun around with the movement, sidestepping a second blow. The Nerubian momentarily lost its balance as it struck only empty air, and Subonai’s swung upwards to catch the spider in its chest. A crunching sound of exoskeleton shattering, and black slime oozed out of the wound. The Nerubian reeled back, and in that moment that it was disoriented, the Forsaken fell over it with magic and weapons. Pure white flashes burning the spider showed that Valenia was not merely skilled in healing.
Subonai didn’t even stop to watch the Nerubian be hacked up and burned, busy as he was blocking and avoiding the furious attacks from the second one. He danced around it, dangerously quick even if his heavy plate armor hampered his movements somewhat – not enough to slow him down too much, though. Now he backed rapidly, leading his opponent further away from the cave opening. His second reason for that soon showed itself. Yet another Nerubian was clambering up from the hole, only to be met in the face with Subonai’s hoof. It jerked back and then shot upwards with an enraged screech. Subonai found himself fighting two Nerubians at the same time, something he had barely avoided moments earlier. He didn’t even flinch, and kept moving with the same swift brutality that kept him safe from almost every blow.
For a moment even Dor’ash, for all the battles he had seen, stood thunderstruck at the sheer display. No matter what he thought about Subonai personally, he had to admit that the vindicator was a formidable warrior.
But with that thought came another, much more chilling one – that the Forsaken that were now taking advantage of Subonai’s battle skill were also watching him, and seeing a great Alliance soldier.
He was torn out of these thoughts at Valenia’s warning shout. Scratches and waggling arms searching for purchase announced that another Nerubian was on its way inside, and fast. No matter how great a fighter Subonai was, he could not be able to keep up for long, and not against even more opponents.
“They’re all coming inside!” Coran shouted, glancing briefly around while slashing at one of the great spiders’ backside.
Wonderful.
Dor’ash tossed out another fire totem in between channeling lighting and bursts of flames in his hands to send at the undead monstrosities. There was not much to call upon to the totem, however. The fire spirits that had gathered by feeding the camp fire were in unfriendly territory to begin with, weakening their ability to reach into the world of the living to give any help at all. Only pitiful fireballs launched towards the spiders, at irregular intervals. He might as well not do it at all.
Another Forsaken fell under the flailing limbs of the Nerubians, blindly stomped and torn at by the furious spider focusing on Subonai. At this point, the sole reason that the vindicator was not starting to show signs of weariness had to be that Valenia had completely abandoned attacking, and the glow of her hands was directed only at Subonai.
Looking in the priestess’ and Malo’s direction, Dor’ash noticed the shaman had also ceased casting spells towards the Nerubians. Instead, Malo was on one knee, his head bowed and hands held over a slightly larger totem than the ones he had planted in the snow earlier. Red wisps swirled around the bulky totem, flickering nervously as Malo’s lips rapidly moved. In the air a few feet in front of the draenei shaman, flames sparked, then started to steadily rise and take a more solid shape. A pair of golden bracers flared into existence two bulky arms and the fire elemental raised its sharp head, eyes narrowing as it started forwards. But it was small, and looked a whole lot thinner than it ought to.
Inspiration struck, and Dor’ash ceased his current spell and threw out his hand. Sarah yelped as he almost shoved at her with the motion, but he was focusing too hard to offer her more than a grunt in apology. The weak ribbons of fire dancing around his own totem faltered and disappeared in a puff of smoke as he urged the spirits he had called to instead head to Malo’s totem. The draenei gave a start and briefly turned his glowing eyes towards Dor’ash, meeting the orc’s determined look. In that brief second, the fire elemental’s form filled out with ethereal muscles. Still not as much as it ought to, but enough to give it more confidence. Roaring and crackling, it tore into one Nerubian’s side, burning right through the exoskeleton. The spider shrieked and tried to turn around, but the elemental followed the motion, staying out of reach. Howling, the Nerubian toppled as two of its legs were seared out of socket by the flames. The Forsaken leaped at it, while the elemental turned and headed for the next coming out of the hole and Subonai and Coran kept the third one busy.
The next few minutes were a blur of shrieks, yells and flashing weapons and flailing limbs. Dor’ash cast spell after spell until he wobbled and Sarah held on to his side as if she could possibly support his bulk. The fire elemental fell at some point, but he could hardly even tell when it happened.
The world swam before Dor’ash’s eyes, and it took several moments before he realized that the last shriek was not followed by another one. Blinking, he looked around.
Out of the original group of Forsaken, only six remained standing, excluding Sarah. One or two of those lying on the floor still moved, grunting in annoyance as they tried to get up.
Subonai staggered backwards away from the last fallen Nerubian, and his mace slid out of his numb, grimy grip to clatter hard against the floor. Another stagger, and his plate armor clanged as he heavily sunk to one knee. His ragged breathing shook him, loud in that hazy, dreamlike air where realization of victory had not quite sunken in.
The galloping sound of Valenia rushing to Subonai’s side worked like a wake up call. At first Coran moved forwards hesitantly, like he was sleepwalking, but then he too hurried forwards to the kneeling vindicator, and Malo joined them a moment later.
Dor’ash shook his head to clear it. It took another second before he caught up on that Sarah was talking to him. He looked down at her, blinking, watching her dig her claw-like fingertips into his fur lined sleeve.
“I said, are you alright?” she asked in a raspy voice.
“Yes.” Even so, he winced slightly when he rolled his good shoulder and a sharp sting coiled through the whole arm. Nothing too bad, but that violent pull was still sorely remembered by his muscles and joints. “Yes, I’m good.” He looked her over. “What about you?”
“I’ll be great when we’re off this goddamn mountain,” she grumbled, fingers twitching as she inched closer to him for a second, then moved back again as if catching herself.
I didn’t think you would return to Boo. Camaraderie, adventure, and steel on steel. The stuff of legends! Right Boo?
The main issue I noticed was the use of unnecessary qualifiers when the rest of the text already made your point.
The Forsaken were not [STRIKE]exactly[/STRIKE] thrilled to hear the report when Dor’ash and Malo returned from their farsight scrying. Shane [STRIKE]even[/STRIKE] grunted in annoyance before returning to his post by the exit
“How do we fight such beasts?”
Not the most original of expressions. Keep it in store for the film adaptation
For the first time in years…
That’s an evoking paragraph, well done.
It sounded as she was trying to calm herself with her own words, but at the same time it made [STRIKE]a lot of[/STRIKE] sense.
Then, they could only wait. Coran and Subonai moved to stand closer to the exit, but trying to at the same time stay as far away from the undead as possible.
“Coran and Subonai moved to stand closer to the exit, at the same time trying to stay…” would probably be a better phrasing.
However, [STRIKE]then[/STRIKE] the shadows skittered back,
and seen just how persistent the undead spider creatures could [STRIKE]really[/STRIKE] be.
Both ‘just’ and ‘really’ add emphasis, but when you use both the effect is cheapened.
Another crack, and then chunks of rock flew in all direction as the first monstrous body tore through, giving them [STRIKE]all[/STRIKE] a full view of just what they were fighting.
The Nerubian momentarily lost its balance as it struck [STRIKE]only[/STRIKE] empty air
and Subonai’s swung upwards to catch the spider
Subonai’s arm/shield/weapon?
By the way, once you get to the part where the Nerubians invade the cave, your battle descriptions are very tight (whereas the part with the exchange of fireballs and sticky webs is a bit more disjointed).
As always, thanks for your input! Now if you’ll excuse me… to the touch-up mobile!
You’re welcome.
Aaand now we finally get to stuff I wrote ages ago but never got around gluing onto the rest of the story.
Dor’ash let out a loud breath and nodded agreement. Personally, he’d be fine with returning to Alterac Valley, but he understood her feelings too.
He sat down, somewhat wobbly and not sure if he’d be able to stand up again anytime soon, as his still movable arm gave him clear signals that it did not want to be used for propping him up. Sarah’s feeble attempts to support him would have been a joke on her part in any other situation – it was laughable, but also bizarre that she did try to help him keep his balance. He hummed a tired thanks at her, unsure what to say. In the next moment she was sitting beside him on the floor, lips pressed tightly together.
The other Forsaken were starting to clean up, looking over their losses and seeing what could be salvaged. Two of them carefully approached the door, waved their arms in the opening and, when nothing happened, stalked outside to check on the ones that had been ripped out of the cave. They returned moments later, shaking their heads.
Shane hobbled towards Dor’ash and Sarah, unceremoniously using his sword as a makeshift crutch. Most of his left leg laid on the floor beside one of the Nerubians.
“This is annoying,” Shane stated in a low voice as he stopped in front of Dor’ash and Sarah.
“What?” Dor’ash asked, too tired to be wary.
“It’s a bother.” Shane made a slight sideways nod towards the draenei. Under the warm glow from Valenia’s hands, Subonai was straightening up. “They’re still fit enough to put up a fight. We couldn’t get close to the shaman and the priestess, and now our rogues are in no condition to sneak up on them.” The Forsaken motioned with his thumb towards a heap of bone and dark leather armor in a corner.
Dor’ash slowly blinked. It took a few seconds before it clicked, and when it did a dark stream of dread poured into his heart. Somehow he managed to bite it back and silently nodded. Once he got over the first shock he wasn’t in the least bit surprised, and that was probably the only reason he could remain calm.
“We’re too weakened to make it clean,” Shane continued. He eyed the orc shaman before him. “What about the last two? We want to be sure they all die.”
Dor’ash nodded again, glad that Sarah remained quiet. He thought fast – when she first appeared, he had told Roxanne that he didn’t want the draenei killed, and she had understood it as merely a question of being honor bound. And Roxanne had been killed by the Nerubians. Judging by Shane’s words now, she had not bothered to tell him about the silly orc’s dilemma about the Alliance filth.
“I can take care of them,” he said.
“Are you sure––”
“They seem to trust me, at least more than you. And they don’t know this area.” Dor’ash forced the shadow of a smirk. “As long as the vindicators are dealt with.”
Shane smiled.
“You won’t have to worry about them for long,” he assured. Dor’ash wanted to grab his rotten head and twist it off his shoulders. He controlled himself though.
“I’ll lead them off,” Dor’ash said, calmly, brushing Sarah’s arm with his knuckles. She mutely looked at him. “And she can make a portal. They can’t.”
Shane nodded, apparently satisfied with this simple plan. Giving a brief salute, he hobbled back towards his kin and ordered them to gather the remains of the fallen and for one of the mages to prepare a portal to the Undercity.
Grunting, Dor’ash worked himself to his feet and headed for the draenei. He had to struggle with himself to not rush, knowing that time was bleeding away for Coran and Subonai. Sarah still said nothing, following him like a thin shadow.
Malo and the others looked around when the orc and undead approached, then glanced towards the Forsaken who were dragging their allies towards a single point on the floor. With some help, Subonai got to his hooves.
“Is that it?” the veteran vindicator suspiciously asked, and the other draenei looked no less doubtful.
Dor’ash couldn’t blame them, especially since they had good reason to be suspicious. He could have tried to say something calming, but the blunt truth was probably the best way to go. They couldn’t waste a single second. He spoke the first word in a growling whisper.
“No.” Then, louder, still in Common now, “we need to get out of here before they change their minds. Or something else comes this way.”
“And go where?” Valenia asked, looking at the exit. The snow storm was not quite so violent as it had been before, but the wind still howled.
“There are other places we can take shelter,” Dor’ash said. He shook his head. “Even if the Forsaken are leaving, the Scourge knows of this place now. There’s no telling if there will be another assault.”
Valenia paled, and both she and Coran quickly looked between Malo and Subonai. The draenei shaman didn’t hesitate for a moment.
“I see no reason for distrust at this point,” Malo firmly said. “And I wish to be away from here.”
Subonai growled. Unlike Malo, he seemed to see reason to doubt. Yet, he nodded.
“You walk first,” he snapped at Dor’ash.
“Very well.” Dor’ash was not in a mood to be annoyed at Subonai’s tone. Whatever got all of them away from the cave while there was still time, he was prepared to deal with.
Even if the draenei hurried to toss their abandoned cooking tools and blankets on the nervous elekks’ backs, it seemed to Dor’ash that it took forever. He didn’t speak, just watched and tried to stay calm. There were no signs showing on Coran or Subonai that they had been poisoned, but Dor’ash didn’t doubt that Shane had spoken true. There had been many close brushes before and during the main fight, when one of the undead rogues could have struck without notice. Too much going on to take heed of a small sting, and even plate armor had openings. Especially the draenei’s tails, while they too had some armor, were open for attack.
It didn’t matter where they had been struck. Dor’ash glanced at Sarah, who looked back in silence. He felt uneasy, not daring to speak to her about it yet. If the Forsaken suspected that he had no actual plans to lead the draenei to their deaths, there would be trouble.
Malo looked at Dor’ash briefly, then grabbed the orc’s bags from the ground and tied them to the saddle of one of the elekks.
“Let’s leave this place,” the draenei shaman said, grasping his mounts’ reins.
Nodding, Dor’ash motioned at them to follow him. Sarah walked by his side as he headed for the exit. Even if the two of them walked in a fairly straight line, the draenei took a longer route to stay away from both the toiling Forsaken and the fallen Nerubians.
They were seemingly ignored by the undead, but Dor’ash didn’t relax even when he stepped outside and the wind hit him in the face with an onslaught of icy pinpricks. He looked down when Sarah ducked around him. She merely moved to the other side of him, so that his bulk protected her against the worst wind.
Looking around, Dor’ash watched to make sure that all the draenei and their mounts made it out of the cave safe. The wind was too hard to carry on a conversation, and he did not want to say anything yet either way. He merely waved at them to keep following him, and set off deeper into the whirling snowflakes.
It was a slow walk. Painfully slow. At best the snow rose up to his knees, and the wind relentlessly tugged at him. Sarah grasped his arm and let his steps drag her forwards, in an attempt to not fall behind. He half turned and bent down then, bending his good arm towards his chest. She looked at him doubtfully.
“You’re hurt!” she yelled to be heard over the wind.
“No time. Up!” he replied.
After another second of hesitation she grasped his shoulderpad and clambered onto his arm, seating herself with her knees against his chest. He straightened, not too bothered with her weight as she hardly had any to speak of. Still, he hoped even more than before that he would not slip on a snow covered patch ice and fall.
Carrying Sarah on his arm like a freakish child did at least make it possible for him to speak with her at a normal tone, one that he didn’t have to worry about would be heard by others. Not in that hard wind.
“How much time do we have?” he asked her, speaking close to the remains of one of her ears to be sure.
Her hands clenched against his shoulderpad, and she pulled herself up to get her mouth closer to his ear in turn.
“I don’t know what they used,” she said.
Dor’ash sighed and nodded. Figured. He was about to ask her about his theory of a possible cure, but when he threw a glance at the draenei he saw Coran stagger and raise a hand to his high forehead, a confused, uneasy look on his face.
Growling, Dor’ash turned and faced the others, moving back enough to speak with them. He wasn’t sure if they had gotten far enough away from the cave, but he could no longer see it through the whirling snow.
“Are any of the Forsaken following us?” Dor’ash asked. He had to repeat himself before Subonai and Coran heard it well enough to shake their heads in reply. “Good, but we have another problem.”
“Now what?” Subonai yelled, absently leaning on his elekk.
“You have to keep trusting me,” Dor’ash replied in a steady tone. He did lie a little next, though. “I think they poisoned the two of you during the fight.”
For a moment all four of them just stared at him. Sarah huddled closer to his chest, grumbling.
“I didn’t feel anything when I healed them!” Valenia protested. As if to prove her point she reached out and touched Subonai’s plated arm, her fingertips glowing softly. Upon the light brush, however, she froze and her mouth fell open. The vindicator shifted his stance, looking at Coran, who uneasily massaged his forehead.
They all looked at Dor’ash and Sarah again. Even Malo’s face took on a guarded expression.
“I know where to find shelter, but we have to hurry,” Dor’ash grimly said. “We have to work on figuring out an antidote from there.”
Growling, Subonai shook his head in disbelief.
“You’re asking a lot, orc!” he snapped.
“Do you want to live, draenei?” Dor’ash met Subonai’s glare for a moment. His patience hung by a thin hair, indeed. “Not that much to ask, is it?”
Malo stepped forwards and put a hand on Subonai’s armored shoulder, shoving lightly. The movements, as well as the shaman’s face, were tired and haggard, however. His mouth seemed to form a sigh, but the wind tore apart both the sound of it and the small cloud that would have formed in the cold air.
“Enough,” Malo said. He sounded much older than he had before. “This is idiotic.” He looked at Dor’ash. “Right now, you could lead us straight to Kil’jaeden for all I care.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Dor’ash replied. He might have smiled at Malo’s bizarre words normally, but he was in no mood for that. Turning around, he waved at the draenei to follow him. He was relieved when they did so, climbing into the elekk’s saddles.
For a while, he walked ahead with little help from his eyes. Had he not been a shaman, he would have had a much more difficult time. The spirits of the land answered his prayer murmured through clenched teeth, however, and he listened intently to their urging, trusting them to lead him straight ahead to where he wanted to bring himself and his allies.
Even with guidance it was a precarious walk as he could not use either arm for balance, and the landscape was far from smooth. At first, Sarah lifted her thin arms to shield his eyes from the wind and snow. The second time he swayed, however, nearly loosing his balance because of having to jump down a jagged slope, she made an annoyed “tch!” sound.
“Hold still,” she grumbled and dragged herself up.
She used his arm as a stepping stone at first, reaching around his neck and clasping her hands. Then she clambered down under his good arm and somehow managed to wrap her legs around his waist. It gave him more freedom of movement without putting strain on his wounded arm, while still carrying her.
On the other hand, it had to look positively moronic.
Dor’ash lifted his good arm to see her face and give her a doubtful look.
“Move it, I don’t want to do this for longer than I have to,” she shouted.
After a moment he nodded agreement and continued onwards, not daring to check how the draenei were looking at the two of them. As he walked, he muttered another prayer to the winds, to hide the tracks behind them.
The minutes of walking dragged on, and he was almost starting to wonder if they were making any ground at all, when finally tall shadows emerged within the storm to grow darker and higher for every step forwards.
Dor’ash squinted at the cliffs rising around them. In the snowfall, it was difficult to recognize the familiar angles and dips in the rock formations, however he followed his memories and the whisper of the spirits. Malo and Valenia didn’t even exchange glances when Dor’ash motioned at them to follow, reassuringly, and headed straight towards a solid, frozen wall of rock. As he glanced around Dor’ash didn’t fail to notice that by now, Subonai couldn’t even keep his head up and slumped in his saddle, while Coran at least managed to sit straight.
Even Sarah looked tired, bowing her head against his side. At this point, maybe she was only holding on because her joints had frozen solid.
Reaching the cliff, Dor’ash moved along it until he caught sight of what he had been looking for – a chunk of rock leaning against the natural wall, half buried in snow. Gently urging Sarah to slip down on the ground, he walked around the rock and plunged his good hand into the thick layer of chilly white, brushing it away. The glove could only keep the cold out so well, freezing as he already was, and his fingers quickly numbed. However he ignored it and quickly uncovered what was draped between the rock and the cliff. A thick hide, colored like the stones around it. He unlatched it and pushed it aside. Snow tumbled down all around by the rude motion, revealing the hidden opening behind the cover.
“There should be coals for a fire,” he told Sarah as he waved her inside. A weak, but relieved grin answered him, and she disappeared into the darkness. Just a second later a flame flared up from her hand, illuminating her thin form against the insides of the cave.
Malo and Valenia helped the two vindicators off the elekks, the shaman supporting first Subonai, then Coran inside. Then the shaman and the priestess took turns bringing the elekks into the cave. The opening wasn’t wide enough for more than one animal to enter at the time, but finally Dor’ash could move inside after the final mount. The storm was picking up again, not as badly as the last, but it sent the snow whirling in a whole other way. It should still be enough to hide all their tracks and cover the opening again quickly. He whispered a prayer of thanks to the wind spirits and fastened the hide on the hooks set in the rock.
To close the “door” should have cast the cave in complete darkness save for the fire in Sarah’s hand, but by then she had already found the basket of coals and set a heap of them aflame in a blocky, simple fireplace placed in the middle of the cave. A most welcome warmth slowly spread from the center of the room.
Though looking at the insides of the cave in bewilderment, Valenia and Malo were helping their ailing friends to sit down on two simple beds – just cut slabs of rock close to the fireplace, covered with old furs. There were two more of the same. The elekks were settling down in the back of the cave, where a deeper hollow had been carved. Two of them brushed their trunks into an empty water trough by the wall, sniffing hopefully.
Apart from the well filled basket of coals, along the wall hung a couple of cooking pots and on a natural shelf beside them were a few items such as a grind stone, flint and a closed box of tinder.
“What is this place?” Valenia asked, looking around.
“Frostwolf shelter,” Dor’ash replied as he reached up and took one of the smaller pots from the wall. Going back to the entrance, he unlatched the hide again just enough to reach out and scoop up some clean snow in the container. Closing the door again, he went back and set the pot in the fireplace, beside the burning coals, to let the snow melt.
He could have just asked the elements for help with water, but they had already done so much for him today. Also, it was not the orcish way, to ask the spirits for things which simply could be gained in other ways.
“We have a few of these in the mountains,” he clarified as he walked, then smiled wryly. “No, I shouldn’t really have shown it to you. I believe the Warchief would allow it if he heard the whole story, though. Either way, I don’t think you could find it again.”
“I highly doubt we could,” Malo agreed, taking off his helmet and wiping his high forehead. He didn’t put the helmet back on, but placed it on the floor. He then looked at Subonai, who clawed at the leather straps holding his own plate armor in place. The vindicator looked far from pleased, but the look of him spoke clearly that he needed to lie down, and the armor was in the way.
Without a word Malo went to help Subonai, while Coran fared a little better on his own. Valenia joined too after a moment after glancing between Malo’s discarded helmet and his face. It took a little while, but finally the pieces of armor were gathered on the floor and the vindicators could be helped to lay back.
In the meantime Dor’ash helped himself to his backpack from Malo's saddle, and started digging through it.
Moving her glowing hands in nervous little circles around Subonai’s pale face, Valenia turned her face towards Dor’ash. Her spells probably did very little save slow the poison.
“Why are you helping us so much?” she wondered, her glowing eyes narrowed.
Despite all, or perhaps precisely because of it all, he couldn’t really blame her for her refusal to trust. Her friends were practically dying in front of her.
“If you still don’t believe in my honor,” Dor’ash said in a dry tone, looking up just briefly, “neither I nor Sarah are in a condition to safely make it down the mountain on our own.”
Valenia started to say something along the lines of a weak “it’s not like that,” but hearing the last part of his explanation her mouth snapped shut and she turned away.
“I don’t think she got the joke,” Sarah sneered, speaking Common for the occasion.
Dor’ash just shrugged. His fingers finally met with what he sought, and with a triumphant grunt he took out a small, carefully wrapped package from his backpack.
“This antidote you once gave me,” he said in Common, looking at Sarah, “will it help?”
“That, after Stranglethorn?” she asked, after a quick look at the package in his hand. But she didn’t wait for him to answer, instead turning to thoughtfully study the two vindicators. “Probably. As long as they didn’t use some of our newer concoctions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.”
Clenching his jaw, Dor’ash unwrapped the vial. Months had passed since she gave it to him, but the oddly teal colored mixture looked no different than he remembered. When he tilted the container, the liquid slipped around without even leaving a dried coating on the glass walls.
“They’ll have to drink it, since the poison has worked on them for so long already,” Sarah said, lips stretching in an amused smirk. “It’s very foul. But it does it’s job.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Dor’ash asked, giving her a sharp look.
She shrugged.
“They’ll have to walk for a while to find ground suited for burial, I suppose,” she said, reverting back to Orcish.
“What did she say?” Valenia demanded in a high-pitched voice.
“She pretty much said that then, that’s too bad,” Dor’ash said, but his eyes were hard as he looked at Sarah.
She ignored him, wiggling her cold fingers close to the fire. Melting snow and ice slowly soaked into her robe. At least, it looked as if she had no plans to just drag the heavy cloth off of her body and let it dry on its own. Had they been alone, she would have done so already – she felt no shame to show what remained of her body to Dor’ash. The fact that she did not undress, Dor’ash hoped, said something about feeling some shred of respect for the draenei.
“Mix a drop or two in a cup of water,” Sarah suddenly said in Common, looking into the fire still. “It’s no good concentrated. Well, it’ll be a little easier to bear.”
Dor’ash nodded, remembering she had said something of the sort when she gave him the potion. That was one of the reasons why he had gone to fetch snow in the pot earlier.
For a moment, Malo and Valenia looked at each other. Then the priestess took in a deep breath and reached for one of the draenei’s packs. Moving stiffly, she dug out a couple of clay mugs and then went to scoop up melted water in both of them from the pot.
Not without a sense of apprehension, Dor’ash uncorked the vial. However, much to his surprise there was no horrid stench that immediately tried to murder his nose. The liquid only smelled like something akin to sweet dust. When Valenia offered the mugs with slightly shaking hands, Dor’ash carefully tilted the vial above each of them in turn, letting a couple of drops fall into the water. The liquid was thicker than water, and easily formed drops when reaching the edge of the container.
Valenia suspiciously sniffed at the air, frowning. She hesitated for another moment, then handed one of the cups to Malo and headed over to Coran. The vindicator struggled to sit up, drooping as much as Subonai now. He tried to hold the mug when Valenia offered it, but she had to help him. Probably feeling too sick to care anymore, Coran didn’t even hesitate before he started gulping down the medicine. His face didn’t change at all through it, and he laid back down when Valenia took away the mug.
Dor’ash watched this, and when Malo managed to urge Subonai into drinking from the other mug he turned to Sarah.
“I thought you said that thing tastes so bad it makes undead throw up,” Dor’ash said, quirking an eyebrow at her.
“I lied.”
Dor’ash fixed her with one of his long, blank looks, but his head twisted around when Coran made a weak, disgusted sound and reached for his own mouth. Subonai followed suit seconds later, coughing and spitting.
“It’s the aftertaste you should worry about,” Sarah clarified in Common, smiling wide.
Grunting, Dor’ash grabbed the pot and held it out to Valenia as she quickly took out two clean mugs to let the vindicators rinse down the foul taste. Neither of the two men managed to sit up on their own by now, and they heavily fell down again after being helped to a second drink, glowing eyes closed.
“It’s doing something…” Valenia murmured, pressing a hand to Coran’s glistening brow. She was silent for a moment, then looked up with a desperate scowl. “No, it’s just slowing the poison. I can feel it, it’s still there.”
“Are you sure it’s not just slow to work?” Malo said in a tense voice.
Dor’ash didn’t even bother waiting to see Valenia shake her head. He had already turned to Sarah.
“If that wasn’t enough, you could make a working antidote, couldn’t you?” he said. It wasn’t really a question.
Sarah poked at the burning coals with her finger, sending sparks flying as the glowing lumps tumbled. Steam rose from the wet, raw bone of her hand and lower arm.
“Now we’re starting to talk treason,” she stated, in Orcish and a matter of fact voice.
The worst part, he figured later, was how quickly the disbelief passed through him. It was, however, replaced with steel hard determination.
“It’s not treason,” he said with some cold. Unlike her, he spoke Common. “Regard it as a diplomatic gesture.”
She refused to play along and answered him in his native tongue.
“Diplomacy is the forte of your leader,” she said and poked another coal. “Mine would have buried an arrow in each of their glowing eyes by now.”
“Sarah, for the love of the spirits!” Dor’ash snarled.
“All this happened because he had to go and kidnap you!” she snapped, finally looking up and pointing at Coran while sneering. “Forgive me for not feeling very helpful.”
“And what do you think that last yeti would have done to us if he hadn’t killed it?”
With a clatter she sourly folded her arms and looked away.
“Don’t be childish,” he growled.
“I’m being a loyal subject of Lady Sylvanas and the Horde, thank you very much.”
He narrowed his eyes. Well, if she was going to be like that…
“Loyal, are you? Fine, then,” he said. “Technically I am still their prisoner, and for all you know they are holding me hostage.”
Sarah stared up at him in disbelief. Malo and Valenia both mirrored that expression, looking between the kneeling little woman and the huge orc towering over her.
After a moment Sarah’s arms fell to her sides and she shook her head.
“You goddamn green teddy bear,” she muttered.
“I could hold a dagger to my own throat, if that makes you feel better,” he replied. He didn’t care that what he just said was moronic. The whole situation was bizarre, had been for the last few hours.
She just looked at him for another moment, then sighed heavily and turned to the draenei. This time, she spoke Common.
“Do either of you know anything about alchemy?” she gruffly asked.
The two still standing ones exchanged glances.
“I am fairly accomplished in that trade,” Malo admitted after a moment.
“Oh goodie.” Sarah stepped forwards and sat down on the ground a few steps away from him. “Since we’re being traitors today, I’ll just tell you how to make an antidote. Because I assume you don’t want to feed them something I mix up myself.”
She held out a hand, and added:
“But I’m going to need a blood sample. I’m not sure which poison they used.”
Malo pursed his lips, but from one of his bags he produced an empty vial with flat rather than rounded edges around the opening. Then he nodded to Valenia. Though she looked uneasy she took out a dagger and made a cut in Coran’s arm, over the area where the poisoned wound had been. Blood dripped out and Malo held his vial just below the slash, collecting the blue liquid. Once it was half full, he removed the glass container and handed it to Sarah, while Valenia healed the vindicator once again.
While that was going on, Sarah rummaged around in one of her bags and pulled out a few empty vials of her own, as well as several small, differently colored bottles. She even took out a small metal scaffold to put vials in to keep them upright. Once Malo offered the blood, she took it and swiftly divided it between containers that she lined up in the scaffold.
Her work was brisk and methodical, unaffected by the fact that she had a tense audience.
“By the way, handsome,” Sarah suddenly said, while dripping the contents of one of the bottles into a blood vial, “are you trying to complete a collection?”
“Hmm?” Dor’ash said, raising an eyebrow at her.
She corked the vial and looked up while holding it between two fingers and shaking it to blend the liquid inside. Whatever she had mixed the blood with, it took on a much darker shade of blue.
“I’m just saying,” she said. “First that moron Thomas, then you wouldn’t kill the nelf bear in Azshara, and now you’re making friends with a bunch of space goats.” She snorted. “Just so we’re clear, the moment you as much as start talking with a gnome, I’m outta here.”
“Why then, I thought you hated elves the most?” Dor’ash said, lips twitching.
“Elves are annoying and think too highly of themselves. But at least they aren’t freakin’ creepy.”
Dor’ash stared at her for a moment, then he smirked and shook his head. Had the situation been a little less tense, he would have laughed, but the joke wasn’t enough to make him ease up that much.
“Are you scared of gnomes?” Malo asked, watching Sarah with his eyebrows raised.
“Scared, no, but haven’t you seen them walk?” Sarah said, using two fingers of her free hand to demonstrate the quick, pudgy way of striding. “Also, some of them have pink hair. Pink. They’re hideous. And that’s coming from…”
“And that’s coming from a talking corpse,” Dor’ash spoke along with her.
Malo and Valenia exchanged the glances of two people not knowing whether they or their company has gone insane.
Dor’ash still smirked lightly, an expression Sarah returned. The fact that she had been safely returned to him was still sinking in, and he would have wanted to keep up their joking for a long time.
In a second he turned serious, however, and tapped his finger at the air in the direction of the mixture she was still absentmindedly shaking. There were more important issues at hand.
Rolling her entire head, Sarah held up the vial, tilted, in one hand and pointed at it from below with the other. At her mumbled spell a small flame appeared above the tip of her pointing finger, licking at the bottom of the glass container. After a little while the liquid began to ooze.
Ceasing the spell, Sarah held up the vial in front of her eyes and frowned. Slowly, the smoke within it faltered and the mixture settled. It looked just the same as before she let it boil.
With an annoyed sound Sarah uncorked the vial, releasing a foul, metallic smell. She just poured the mixture into a crevasse in the ground and started over with another vial and some other ingredients. Meanwhile, Coran and Subonai’s breathing only grew more strained and the tension in the air spiked at the same rate. Sarah didn’t seem to notice it.
It took four tries until she let hear a triumphant sound. The latest blend thickened in the vial, moving slowly as syrup as she tilted the thin, long bottle back and forth. The color, also, went from dark blue to a disturbing, blackish indigo.
“It would have been brown if it was human blood…” Sarah absentmindedly muttered.
“Fascinating, now what about the antidote?” Dor’ash said.
“Ah yeah.” She straightened up and looked at the very anxious-looking, conscious draenei. “It’s pretty simple.”
… Dor’ash holding himself hostage to make Sarah work was one of the reasons I wanted to write this story 
It’s good to see that she’s partly still an undead bastard. This one was a long update!