Haha, yeah. She’s a bit of a bastard, but she’s sooo easily manipulated when it gets down to it. XD
I’ve had most of this written for a long time but never got around gluing it to the rest of the story until now, that’s why it’s such a monster post 
Every time she makes honorable people use manipulation, the Lich King is laughing on his frozen throne.
Aaaand ta to the daa About bloody time too. Now with 50% more “daaaw” friendship moments!
“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. If you have the ingredients.” At that, she flashed a rotten smile at Malo, who pursed his mouth. “First you take equal amounts of the antidote and major healing potion. You’ll just need to mix a few drops in water again, so don’t overdo it.”
From his bags Malo produced his own set of vials and a bottle half filled with a warmly red liquid. His teeth clenched tight, he followed Sarah’s first instructions.
“And then?” he asked while stirring the antidote and the potion in a broad vial. The color the mix took on was quite unpleasant.
“And mix in a– oh damn, what’s the word in Common? I only learned about herbs in Orcish.” Sarah frowned, tapping a finger against her forehead. “Looks like a carrot?”
“Golden samsam?” Malo suggested.
“Sounds about right,” she said, nodding. “You need to grind a few… three seeds and add those to the potion. And then, uh… blast it.”
Reaching backwards, she grabbed a piece of coal from the edge of the fireplace, and waved it around until it cooled a little more.
“Got leaves like this,” she said and drew a very crude, spiky leaf on the floor. “You need to use the sap, it coagulates but dissolves in water. It’s called Grom’s blood if you translate the Orcish name for it.”
“Oh, that. How much?”
“A pebble,” Sarah said, holding up her hand with just a slight space between her thumb and pointing finger to show how big.
Dor’ash caught Valenia’s skeptical gaze, wondering like she probably did at the accuracy of such flimsy amounts. On the other hand, Malo didn’t protest but simply took out, prepared, and added the ingredients as per Sarah’s instructions. He didn’t look too happy, though.
The finished product was a thick, syrupy liquid colored like rotting leaves.
“And that’s all, now drip some in water and feed it to them,” Sarah said, waving her hand dismissively.
Hurriedly, Valenia filled two mugs with water again and Malo added the antidote to them. Dor’ash watched tensely while the two draenei tried to rouse their friends enough to make them drink the potion, something that took several shakes and slaps to the vindicators’ faces. Finally though, first Coran then Subonai sluggishly opened their eyes and could be helped to sit up and sip the water.
After clumsily helping Subonai back down Valenia pressed a glowing hand to his chest, chewing on her lower lip. Seconds snailed by, and then suddenly, she shuddered and her shoulders fell, a relieved smile spreading over her face.
“It’s… it’s working!” she breathed, then pressed her free hand to her mouth, closing her eyes.
Malo muttered something quick and soft in Draenei, and Dor’ash released the breath he had been holding. Only Sarah looked unconcerned, busying herself with gathering up and cleaning her alchemy materials.
“Wait a moment, who brewed this potion in the first place?” Malo suddenly said. Valenia froze in her checking on Coran, looking up and blinking.
“Royal Apothecaries, of course,” Sarah said, her voice cheerful again all at once. She smiled at the looks of dawning realization on Malo and Valenia’s faces. “I said you probably didn’t want them to drink something I’ve brewed, but after all, they already drank the first antidote.” She shrugged when they kept staring at her. “Look, I’m just trying to keep the teddy bear happy, and he seems to have this bizarre idea that I shouldn’t scare you.”
Dor’ash rubbed his forehead with a loud sigh. This made Sarah whirl towards him.
“What, will nothing please you today?” she asked, but in a more amused than exasperated tone.
“She gave it to me to use if I ever happened to be poisoned,” Dor’ash said in an apologetic voice.
“And you trust me enough to share it, too. That’s adorable.”
Dor’ash opened his mouth to speak, but then Coran groaned. A faint light and shadows fluttered over his cheeks as his eyelids shuddered upwards, and he squinted at the room.
“Wha…?” he mumbled, lifting a hand to rub his face.
“Don’t move too much, you’re still not well,” Valenia said and gently made him lay back again. Having done so she looked up, hesitated for a moment and then spoke directly to Sarah for the first time. “Thank you, though I can’t believe I’m saying so.”
“Eh, you’re welcome I suppose.” She tilted her head and gazed up at Dor’ash. “Although I hope that you’re up for lying about this.”
He looked down, would have felt disturbed at her words and what he understood her to mean, but he could only let his grin falter the slightest bit.
“The Warchief wouldn’t mind,” he said.
“But Lady Sylvanas would,” Sarah said, drawing an invisible but expressive line across her own throat. “And since our Forsaken friends out there were making it back home, somebody in the Undercity will want to hear the results of our little adventure.”
He had a feeling that she watched him with a strange intensity for a moment, but considering the state of her eyes it was only a hunch on his part. Her words sobered his mood however, and he nodded understanding. Sarah’s shoulders lowered just a pinch.
“Alright, then,” she said, sounding satisfied. She looked him over. “And you should sit down, you look like something the zombies dragged in.”
He gave her a half-smirk. It was the only comment needed to the fact that her robe and hair was glued to her, the former not only with molten snow but also with the large, dark and slimy splotch on her chest where it had been smashed. Dor’ash left it unsaid, though, and seated himself on one of the fur covered stone slabs around the fire. Immediately, as he allowed himself to feel it, every muscle in his body felt heavy as a rock. Sarah watched him for a moment longer, then went back to cleaning up after her experiments.
Malo picked up the iron pot from the fire place and went to fetch more snow to melt in it. As he pushed the cover aside, the world outside was only dark, night having washed away the white of the landscape for at least a few hours. Returning, Malo put the pot back where he had taken it, then threw in a few brown cubes from one of his bags. As the snow melted and he used a clean cup to stir the liquid inside, a smell like vegetable bullion and hay filled the air. Not a horribly appetizing smell, but Dor’ash heard the other’s stomachs rumble as well as his own.
At the sound Sarah looked around and stood up. She stepped over to Dor’ash, brushing her hands on the cleaner parts of her robe before reaching out. Catching on, he held out his good hand. Sarah lifted hers to hover above his and muttered in a low voice. The air shimmered, and a warm loaf of dark bread landed in Dor’ash’s palm without having touched Sarah’s fingers.
He’d asked her once about from where the heck mages got their summoned bread and water. To little surprise, Sarah had instantly replied that enslaved bakers held in the ruins of the Dalaran sewers provided it. Another explanation was not to be expected.
“You want me to fetch your rations?” Sarah asked.
Dor’ash quirked an eyebrow at the unusually soft note in her voice, but he was about to simply tell her yes when Malo’s hand moved within his vision, holding a wooden cup. Looking up, Dor’ash met the other shaman’s gaze.
“Please, it’s the least,” Malo said with a faint smile. In the background, the other draenei sipped their own watery soup. “It doesn’t taste like much but it is nutritious.”
“Thank you,” Dor’ash said, taking the cup with a returned smile. The water had taken on a light brown color, and flakes of spices floated around in it. Not worthy orc food, but though he was hungry he was also horribly tired. Not having to chew much was a plus.
Malo looked at Sarah, hesitantly.
“You can pour some into my own mug if you want to share,” she said. “So I don’t spread bacteria all over your Sunday porcelain.”
“Uh… certainly,” Malo said. He looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not.
True to her word Sarah dug out a worn mug from her backpack and held it out so that Malo could fill it with the soup by pouring from his cup. She peered at the liquid.
“I dunno,” she muttered to Dor’ash, settling on the floor with her legs crossed. “I don’t think either of us are gonna grow up big and strong if we eat this.”
“Be polite, Sarah,” Dor’ash calmly said. She snorted, but he returned it with the same and waved his piece of bread.
“I don’t think they’ll want it,” Sarah grumbled. However, she reached towards an ash free corner of the fireplace and wiggled her fingers, muttering again. A small heap of bread slices appeared on the rock. Then she sat back and sipped her drink.
A few moments passed, and then, surprisingly, Valenia reached forwards and picked up a piece of bread. She sniffed at it, turning it over for inspection, but in the end she ate it. Sarah smirked against the rim of her cup, but thankfully she didn’t comment.
Dor’ash made no big show of it either. He simply dipped his own bread in the soup after setting the cup on the furs covering his seat, and ate it like that. The taste of the liquid was faint, but at least it was better than just water and it spread a pleasant warmth through his tired and aching body.
After drinking a few mouthfuls, Malo grabbed the pot once again and went to empty the larger part of the content into the elekk’s trough. The hungry mounts made short work of it, enthusiastically slurping it up. Seeing that it couldn’t be enough, Malo fetched new snow to make more feed for them.
One after another, the draenei finished up their soup and put their mugs aside before stretching out on their crude but welcome beds, after Valenia took the time to get everyone’s blankets for them. Malo opted to keep guard though. Starting to feel too sleepy to keep sitting up, Dor’ash too drank the last of his soup and then laid down.
Now fully relaxed and no longer hungry, the entire day crashed down on Dor’ash. He felt certain that he’d fall dead asleep the moment he closed his eyes. Still, even as he stretched out on his back on the furs, his body screaming for rest, sleep eluded him. His broken arm throbbed, but the fire and everyone’s body heat had by now taken the worst cold out of the air inside. With no chill to make it worse, a simple healing spell eased the pain in his arm.
Malo sat on one of the slabs of rock, staring into the glowing coals. On the other side of the fire pit Sarah sat, knees drawn up to her chest. She too seemed to attempt to divine some strange truth from the embers.
This place should be safe, and there were a pair of guards – even if Malo fell asleep on his post, Sarah never would.
Yet Dor’ash still laid awake, closing his eyes only to snap them open at the slightest sound – of which there were many, unfortunately. It was enough with a sleepy rustle from the elekks, or one of the draenei shifting trying to get comfortable.
He had managed to get just another wink of sleep when yet another sound jolted him and he turned his head, squinting blearily as Sarah stood up and shuffled a couple of steps to the side. Malo watched her too, but didn’t say anything.
Without a word Sarah sunk down on the floor again, leaning her back against the slab of rock Dor’ash laid on. Pulling both legs back up, she placed her arms on her knees to rest her chin on. She didn’t even look around at Dor’ash.
Then, with the faint stench of her in his nostrils, he finally fell asleep.
‘-‘
In the morning, they had a quick shared breakfast before gathering up their things and setting off again. Coran and Subonai moved a little stiffly, but otherwise they appeared to be completely recovered.
The storm had ceased completely, and the landscape laid white and bright beneath a grey sky as Dor’ash continued to lead the way down the mountain, carrying Sarah whenever it was necessary. Sometimes when it was not absolutely necessary, too.
Around midday they reached the edge of a slope and could gaze down and the partly rocky, partly smooth scenery which tilted downwards, towards distant dark, snow free pine trees on the lowlands.
“It’s best we part here,” Dor’ash said as he looked around. “Both you and we can make it to safety now.”
“That should not be a problem, no,” Subonai said, his tone gruff but without real venom. He haughtily gazed down the slope when Dor’ash looked at him, though.
Malo stepped forwards and grasped Dor’ash’s good hand briefly. The orc’s lips twitched to a smile. They couldn’t be called friends, but he appreciated the gesture anyway.
“We will let the Prophet know about this,” Malo said with a smile. “It will surely warm his heart.”
“I doubt that your people and the Forsaken will ever communicate closely, but you understand what she meant last night,” Dor’ash said, motioning at Sarah. “She fears repercussions should it be known that she helped save a pair of vindicators.”
Malo nodded.
“Yes, and many of our kind would be furious to know we even accepted help of an orc and undead,” he said with a soft sigh.
“It’s still a far cry from what would happen to us,” Sarah said, scoffing. Dor’ash swatted at her head, but aimed to miss by several inches.
“The Warchief will be glad to hear about it too, I’m sure,” Dor’ash said.
Coran took a step forwards, smiling carefully.
“Thank you again,” he said. He rubbed a chin tendril, the motion reminiscent of how people of many other races might rub their necks when feeling awkward. “I am sorry for causing you trouble.”
Dor’ash shook his head.
“No, we would have been in more trouble if you hadn’t intervened with the yetis,” he said, then tapped the top of Sarah’s head with one finger, jostling her head. “No matter what this one says.”
She loudly snorted, but kept her peace.
After saying their goodbyes, the draenei continued southwestwards down the slope, while Dor’ash and Sarah headed further eastwards, towards one of the many paths into Alterac Valley.
“They won’t get any surprises from the poison later on, will they?” Dor’ash asked Sarah after a while, giving her a stern look.
“Oh, Dor’ash…” A low cackle left her, and for a moment he felt a stitch of worry. Then she shook her head. “No, I promise. The antidote was real, not a momentary cure.” She smirked. “You better watch it, you’re starting to think like a Forsaken.”
“I’d call it retaining a healthy sense of doubt. You really didn’t want to help them.”
She shook her head, pulling a green bag from her belt and absentmindedly opening it to peer inside while she walked.
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t like them, and my superiors would have had my head. But what can I do, when you’re such a softie?”
He was about to reply, but she cut him off by speaking again.
“By the way, I’m going to hold you to that promise you made me in the first cave.”
Her tone was so airy that at first, he didn’t catch on. Then it became too apparent, and he looked at her sharply, ceasing his steps. She simply focused on tying her bag of herbs closed, ignoring him though she too stopped walking.
“You still want me to kill you?” Dor’ash asked, his voice rumbling deep inside his chest as he watched the small, thin woman before him.
She didn’t answer at first, finishing securing the bag on her belt. That done with, she held up her hands. Mostly fleshless fingers bent, relaxed. Little dark cracks riddled the pale bone, where dirt and old blood stuck.
“You know how we ‘age’ and eventually lose hold of ourselves to the Lich King,” she said. “It’s inevitable. That’s just the way it is.” Out of battle she seldom sounded serious, and this disquiet tone probably sat as ill with herself as with him. She looked up, her few remaining features unreadable. “I broke free again because I’m still fresh in mind.”
He slowly nodded.
“Haven’t you known?” she asked in an uncharacteristically soft tone. “I’m counting on you.”
Yes, he had somehow known. Just never wanted to admit it.
“How long do you have?” he murmured. This time, he did reach out and laid his hand on her shoulder.
Instead of digging her fingers into his arm, Sarah gave a small smile and shrugged despite the added weight.
“Who knows?” she said, tapping her head. “But as long as I keep alert up here, there’s nothing to fear.”
He managed to smile back, if weakly.
“You know I won’t do it happily,” he said.
“This is the only sappy thing you’ll ever hear me say, orc.” She raised one small hand and pointed a sharp fingertip at his face. “Ending a fading Forsaken’s existence is not murder, it’s an act of pure mercy. You’re a shaman. Wouldn’t you just free my spirit from this corpse?”
She shifted her hand, holding her palm towards him to stop him from speaking for a moment longer. Her hoarse voice sunk – she tried to keep it a murmur, but her throat refused anything but a hiss.
“You’re my dearest friend, Dor’ash. I’ll be just fine if it’s you who do it.”
He very nearly blurted “what?” but managed to hold it back despite his disbelief. Not at what she said, but that she said it.
She cleared her throat and looked the other way. When he started to speak, she immediately cut him off.
“I know this is more or less your homeland but could we return to Kalimdor?”
He looked at her, wondering whether to accept the clumsy attempt to change the subject. In the end, he decided to bite. Though he would have wanted to hear what else she might have to say, even if there had been a pleasant surprise towards the end of the discussion it was still a depressing matter – one he didn’t want to think about.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Anyplace. Tanaris? Feralas? Thousand Needles? Don’t we have something to do there?”
Southwards. As far away from this place, and Northrend, as possible.
Dor’ash nodded.
“I’m sure we can find some reason to be there,” he said.
“Excellent.”
She turned around to face the landscape they had to cross, and they trudged on in silence. Dor’ash walked at a slower pace than usual, to further accommodate to Sarah’s shorter legs and the snow swallowing both their feet halfway to their knees or more.
After a while, and without a word, he swept her up on his good arm and continued as if nothing had happened, carrying her.
“Hate snow,” was her only grumbled comment.
She shifted to sit more comfortably. Somehow, that led to the side of her head brushing against his pauldron. He pretended he didn’t notice.
“I’m starting to dislike it too,” he admitted.
“Good, then we can hurry up to some greener pastures. Not that I can see it.” She straightened and tilted her head at his face. “You are green, right?”
“Yes.” He thought for a moment. “Dare I ask how you manage to gather the right herbs if you’re color blind?”
“By smell, of course.”
That, he laughed at, and she grinned.
The end.
Congrats on finishing it. This is the part where the saga ends and your publisher nags at you for more Dor’ash and Sarah stories and you’re all “uh, maybe I’ll do a prequel to pay the rent?” and he insists on continuing the storyline until you find yourself writing about the orc saving Sarah from the Lich King after a ritualistic duel and they become pirates. Right?
Incidentally, your writing is more relaxed when you focus on character-based interactions than when action or exposition has the spotlight.
My sole remark is
a smell like vegetable bullion
Bouillon. Broth, not gold 
Sarah also returns to form. When did you write the last part?
“Looks like a carrot?”
“But Lady Sylvanas would,” Sarah said, drawing an invisible but expressive line across her own throat.
Sarah had instantly replied that enslaved bakers held in the ruins of the Dalaran sewers provided it
“I dunno,” she muttered to Dor’ash, settling on the floor with her legs crossed. “I don’t think either of us are gonna grow up big and strong if we eat this.”
“Hate snow,” was her only grumbled comment.
Bwahaha, good summary of my horrid author situation, bound by contract to produce more and more outrageous tales until my quickly withering creative soul completely dries up and dies XD
[strike]What nonsense, they will obviously become ninja![/strike]
Naw, I’ve got at least one more story about these guys… but it might be touching on the side where people will say I targeted a shark and then hit the space bar repeatedly badapish! I’ll get around touching up the start of it, I’ve got most of it written already.
I wrote most of those lines you bring up over a couple of days’ time at most, just before posting it up. It’s nice that you notice she returns to herself there, that was my intention And yeah, I prefer writing character interaction so that’s probably why my writing is more at ease then. Action scenes, especially fights, I find to be a pain in the ass to get on paper even though I can see them clearly in my head. With so much going on its difficult to balance it being intense, without making it confusing. And there are only so many ways you can write “he punched him in the face.”
Thanks for your input, as always
Good, I’m glad that it’s recent. You’re welcome.