Empezar

A/N: Sorry I didn't update my original story under the same name. I tried a lot to write, but I just couldn't get myself to make a good chapter. So I decided to forsake my base idea, and build a new one. Many of these characters are my real ones, with the same name, and they are my muse. I will not give you my server name (unless it's Fawnheart, since I like her), since I like being an ass and if I do it on here, I'll lose my few readers. Regardless, I like the story now. Wish there was a cure for indecisiveness.

And since I don't know how to use italics/bold/underline on AFF, I'll try and incorporate other means.

Pronunciations/Meanings (alphabetical):

Alura: Ah-ler-uh, I got it from a ex-guildie of mine. I liked it, so I used it.

Amadius: Ah-ma-dee-us, I just liked the name for my Troll.

Eve: Eeh-vuh, I couldn't think of a name.

Milla: Me-uh, I like the name, and I couldn't think of anything at the time, so I used this one.

Omusa: Oh-sue-mah, "Misses with arrows" in Native American, this is the female varient. Because Omusa was originally a hunter, I used this because I wanted to use guns instead of bows.

Thrall: Exactly as it looks. He's the Warchief (like a King) of the Horde, and he liberated the Orcs from the Alliance's camps.

Both factions will speak a common language, not Common, because it'll get confusing if I incorporate languages. However, race-specific languages still remain.

‘for thoughts’
“for speech”

Now, onto the story (finally)!

--

The bright, renegade sun lit up the cold plains of the Barrens, leaving in its wake heat and one annoyed recruit. It seemed as if that wherever it went, there was always one being who cursed its existence. Unfortunate, but he had a job to keep, no? The Titans were very specific in their orders.

The recruit huffed at the sun, before plopping down on the ground behind a large boulder. He was rather miffed that at night it was so cold in the Barrens, but so hot in the day. It was really killing his adventuring time. The Darkspear Troll scratched his jaw with a large, three-fingered hand, and dropped the mighty staff he was carrying. He preferred something with a lot of noise, over something that goes ‘twang, twang’, but unfortunately priests couldn’t use guns. Shrugging off the heavy cloth pauldrons, he looked over at his traveling companion. She was a rather quiet Tauren warrior, who kept to herself. She had barely uttered a word since they had begun the journey, and it was starting to weigh on his mind.

“You know, you’re not a dog,” He chuckled, “you can speak.” Grabbing a water skin from his pack and gobbling it down, he carefully watched the Tauren. She had a loose temper, but usually controlled it outside of battle. The water was fresh, and it cooled him somewhat. As he topped the skin to keep for another day, he heard a loud grunt. He looked to his partner, and the warrior was tense, alert. He followed her gaze, and ahead of them there roamed a massive, pink raptor, the teeth gnashing as it chewed on an unfortunate gazelle. The Troll snorted, the beast was a weakling. The raptor swung its head over to look at him, and it hissed in annoyance. As the Troll didn’t run in fear, it left its meal and started barreling at him. He stood, grabbing his staff, and got ready to smack the thing’s face in. However, his Tauren companion stood as well, hefting a mighty two-handed sword, and dropping it into an aggressive battle stance.

The raptor tore up the distance between them, but the pair didn’t back down. The Tauren, now in front of the Troll, barely moved a muscle as she waited for the raptor to get in range. The Troll, relaxing now that he didn’t have to melee, stood back and waited for the very brief fight to end. And as the raptor came within five feet of the Tauren, she twisted her foot in the dirt, turning her whole body, and in one liquid motion cleaved the raptor in half. The two halves moved around her, slamming into the ground and soaking it with dark red blood.

She stood straight, grabbing a linen and wiping the blade. It sizzled with enchantments, rage imbedded into the blade; causing it to bleed a red mist. The thing seemed to grin, and rather ecstatically. It always unnerved the Troll, but the Tauren couldn’t care less. Regardless, she slung the blade onto her back, and started back on the path to Crossroads.

The Troll sighed, glancing at the grisly scene one last time before following his companion. As he ran to catch up to the lengthy strides of the Tauren, he slung his staff to his back. It glowed a very faint blue, and was actually two pieces of crystals attached by the enchantment. It was far more powerful then almost anything on Azeroth, and like the blade, seemed to be conscious. It hadn’t done anything weird, but it certainly did effect the Troll’s healing capabilities. It seemed to hint to him what he should do, which helped immensely against the massive demons in the Outlands.

‘Almost at the Crossroads.’ He sighed, as he came up next to the Tauren. The snort he received was lost to his rather sex-crazed mind. He hadn’t had any in months, thanks to the blasted warrior. She dragged him all over, completing epic quests that would normally be undoable without a healer. He was annoyed, yes, but because of her he was a powerful adventurer. If not for her, he would probably still be a weakling that didn’t know what’s what. That, or dead. Either way, the Tauren knew her stuff, and he didn’t question her actions.

As they passed through the arc that signaled the beginning of the checkpoint, they overheard a rather large argument. The Troll looked over at the cause of the commotion, and wasn't surprised to find an Orc shouting at a Blood Elf. The Elf, a rather young looking mage, was looking rather annoyed, and the Orc, an older male, was looking pretty pissed himself. The mage, a female, was yelling at the Orc, and the Orc was yelling back.

The Troll sauntered over, with the warrior waiting patiently for the Troll's interest to die down. The priest butted in, pushing the two apart, careful not to grab the breasts of the mage, and quickly asserted his authority as a high-ranking adventurer of the Horde.

"What be goin' on, mon?" He asked the Orc, as he was the bigger one, and the Orc sneered at the question, spitting on the ground.

"This she-elf is trying to steal from me." He said, and the Elf cried out indignantly. The Troll looked to her, her emerald eyes blazing with the hate known to come from her kind. Instead of just all-around hate, however, it looked like it was all directed at the Orc. He couldn't help but wonder who would win in a fight. The big, meaty Orc, or the really pissed off Elf. He had his money on the pretty one.

"I am not! You grabbed my ass, and tried to pay me to sell my body!" She shoved at the Troll, fighting to get close to the Orc in order to slap him, or what have you. The Troll would have none of that, and more forcefully held the two apart. The Troll was starting to lose his patience, and he was close to letting the two at each other.

"I was not! I--" The Orc began, but a shadow that covered the ground around the three caused him to pause. The two quarreling Horde looked at the source, and a very impatient she-Tauren in full plate, with a rather big sword looked back. She grabbed the Orc and the Elf by the collars of their shirt, lifting them from the ground and glaring at them.

"We have wasted enough time. We go. Stop fighting, or my sword makes a new friend." She grunted out, and the two instantly felt their anger evaporate, to be replaced by a sudden fear for their legs. Correctly so, in fact. They both nodded, and the warrior dropped the two on their asses. She lingered near the Elf, laying a heavy plated hand on her shoulder. She looked at her, and smiled ever so slightly.

"Next time, ice his balls." The Elf grinned wickedly, chuckling as the Tauren and the Troll left. The Orc glared at her, but with a glance from the Tauren, he kicked his heels and ran like the wind into the bar. The Elf dusted herself off, and tugged on the Tauren's arm. She looked down, and the smiling Elf caused her to stop her walking. The Troll, shocked that she even payed attention to anyone, paused as well.

"Thank you... and, erm... I'm Eve." The Tauren smiled at her again, the cute Elf was very polite once you got her calm. The Tauren patted the Elf's head very gently, tussling the long red hair.

"I am Omusa." The Troll was shocked, she had spoken so much in the past five minutes that by her standards, she was chatting like a dying man. Which was a lot, mind you. Regardless, the Elf shook the massive hand of the warrior, and scampered off to the west, Ratchet.

"You surprised me back there, mon. You talked quite a lot, for you." The Troll chuckled, and the Tauren didn't even glance at him. She continued walking, and scheduled a flight at the windrider master. The two hopped onto the flying things, and flew towards Orgrimmar.

--

The windriders took the two quickly to Orgrimmar, where they were dropped off atop the large tower. The duo hopped down onto a bridge, then ran towards the Valley of Wisdom. The two were expected by Thrall, and it wasn't a good idea to keep them waiting. They passed by the powerful guards, past Sen'jin, whom grinned at the Troll, and knelt at the bottom step of Thrall's raised throne.

“Good to see you, Omusa, Amadius.” Thrall grinned, mispronounced the Troll's name on purpose. Amadius cringed, he hated when people would do that. “It’s been too long since we last talked.” With that, Thrall dropped into the assignment. The two were to travel to the Ghostlands, and capture the leader of the Night Elf group, Alura Calmwind. She had been seen planning the incursions into the Blood Elf territory, and was one of the key factors in their attacks. If she was removed, the Night Elves would be weakened and forced to retreat.

“I dun like it, Warchief.”The Troll sniffed as he looked over the map of the plagued Ghostlands. It was dark there, which would make it cool, but it was filled with Scourge and worst of all, Night Elves. He couldn’t stand the things. But, he did not wish slavery upon another being. He knew what the interrogators (Undead, obviously, the sadistic bastards) would do to her, and he didn’t want to see that happen to anyone, even an Alliance.

“Neither do I, but we must if we are to keep the pact with the Blood Elves.” Thrall rested his mighty war hammer against his throne, and rolled up the map. He handed it to Omusa, whom tucked it safely into an enchanted bag. She secured it to her waist, saluted, and shoved past a haughty Blood Elf at the entrance. He scoffed, sneering at the retreating Tauren's back.

She shoved her way towards the entrance of Orgrimmar, Amadius on her heels. She walked briskly towards the Zeppelin tower, where the greedy Goblins would sell their own mother for a price, but that made it easy to travel for each faction. They jumped on the fastest Zeppelin towards the Undercity, and dropped onto two soft hammocks in the cargo hold to sleep. It would be a long trip.

--

The stench of rot was quite popular in the Ghostlands. If not for her trusted scouts, Alura would have quite a few problems dealing with them. They kept them at bay, however, and that let her plan ahead for the battles. She was an adventurer, but she had been hired by Tyrande to help out the invasion of the Ghostlands. In only a few more weeks, the Blood Elves and their tiny encampment would be forced out and the Night Elves could begin to heal the land by purging the Scourge. It would be smooth sailing from there.

She hadn’t planned on any adventurers being hired by the Blood Elves, but she was more then enough to deal with them. They were pests, armoured in rags who wielded rusty knives and swords. She curled her lip at the thought of them. They had come to take the scouts’ lives, and probably her own, if they had known she was there. She was careful, however, being a rogue, and only attacked from the shadows that were her home.

She closed the reports from the scouts on the east side of the island they were situated, and began rifling through a drawer next to her. She pulled out a letter, scented with the musk of a male. She sneezed as dust crept up her nose. She placed the letter on the table littered with parchment and quills, and read it through.

Dear Alura,

It has come to my attention that you are blossoming into a beautiful young woman. I have sent this letter as a form of a request, and I wish to bed you. If you chose yes, then I will be more then happy to have you sent back here so you may live in a life of luxury. I--

She stopped reading, crumpling the letter and tossing it into a fire. The last time she had visited Darnassus, she had been hounded by several suitors who wanted to fuck her. She knew they would just dump her in some god-forsaken place, so she refused to renounce her virginity. Unlike most of her race. She sighed, and cleared the table, rested her head on it.

“Are you alright, lady Alura?” The maiden Elf that was assigned to assist Alura in anything she needed asked her, poking her head through the leather flap at the door. At her voice, the rogue looked up and met her eyes. Twin silver eyes met, and Alura smiled ever so slightly. ‘More then you know,’ Alura thought, but would never admit it.

“No, but thank you. I’m just tired, is all.” The maiden nodded, leaving the rogue. Alura sighed, rubbing her temples in annoyance. She was getting rather tired of the constant annoyances of daily life in the Ghostlands, the Scourge, the Horde, and worst of all, the bleeding.

‘Exactly when does it bloody stop?’ She groaned inwardly, collecting herself and strolling from the tent. Her leather armour, black as night, did not sparkle at all in the bright moonlight. It was designed to assist hiding in the shadows, with no metal but an extremely durable leather taken from demons. On both of her hips, two glowing daggers, wicked and gnashing as they were, sat harmlessly. The tendrils of the enchantments caressed her thighs, and at first they had caused her to shiver. To complete the assassin appearance, a dark black hood and mask were pulled up.

“Exactly why are we losing ground?” She raised her eyebrow in annoyance, her nostrils flaring as she regarded the pompous form of the other adventurer, Milla. The girl was a hunter, and not a good one at that. Many people took to calling her “Pinprick”, because all she was good for was shooting things really hard. When it came face-to-face, she was useless and ended up in the medical wing.

“Because, Milla, you fail at guarding the eastern half of the island.” Alura drew out her voice, making it drip with utter dislike. It wasn’t her fault she was a bitch at times, was it?

“How is it my fault that you can’t lead?” Milla bit back, snarling as she stomped up to the taller rogue. The annoyed hunter was quite smaller then the other, at least a head, and the large nightstalker next to her looked rather miserable with a pink bow in his fur. It looked ready to tear the hunter a new one, literally, but was unable to because of that damn bond. Alura pitied it.

Alura was about to spit another retort into the hunter’s face, when she was yanked aside by a scout. The elf shook her head, dragging her to the south-eastern section.

“Now is not the time! We are being attacked by the new Scourge that has taken root.” Despite the animals’ attempts to be called the Forsaken, many of the races still considered them Scourge, so they were simply called “new”.

“What? Why was I not informed of this!” Alura cried, yanking her arm out of the scout’s. The other elf looked at her darkly, biting back an insult. Instead, she dragged the girl to a ridge. It overlooked the lower half of the island, setting their camp up as a vantage point. She could see a mass of rotted forms, armoured in rather expensive armour. They weren't peasants. By the looks of them, they were probably far stronger, too. She examined the scene, the rotted attackers were probably the conscious Scourge that had broken off from Arthas. This meant the fight would be harder.

She stayed on the ridge, looking for a chain of command. She guess that the massive Tauren wielding the bloody sword was one of the stronger ones, and by the fact she was commanding a large squad of the Undead, she guessed that the Tauren was a leader, too. Back at the far end, a large blue Troll stood with the casters and the healers, directing them as well. Ah, so there were the leaders. It looked like the leading Troll was the personal healer of the warrior.

She smirked in the dark. This was way too easy. With a breath of wind, the Night Elf disappeared into the shadows. She crept down the ridge, staying out of the way of the fight. As she came to the caster line, she weaved through the group and made her way to her target: the Troll. She came within a few feet, drawing her wicked daggers. She raised her arms, ready to strike, when the Troll turned. His grin split his face, and she hesitated.

"Hello, she-elf." He grinned. He quickly enclosed himself in a bubble of holy light, and smacked Alura in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of her, and she dropped to her knees. She coughed, trying to catch her breath, as the illusion of stealth left her. "Fancy meetin' you here, mon." He chuckled, as he whistled loudly. In seconds, the massive Tauren came bounding, grabbing the rogue by the shoulders.

"Tie her up, then we leave." The Troll said, and Alura cried out in indignation. She struggled against the Tauren, but it was useless. The warrior was too strong, as her trade demanded of her, and quickly the Elf's frail arms were secured behind her back. The Elf snarled, but the Troll would have none of that. He quickly put a cloth in her mouth, securing it with another. She was effectively silenced.

"Goodnight, hun." The Tauren said, before clipping the Elf in the back of the head. Almost instantly, she went limp, her head rolling to hang loosely.

"Time to leave." The Troll said, and, carrying the Elf, the two activated their hearthstones and were instantly transported to Orgrimmar. The fight on the island raged on, but it looked bad for the Night Elves. Now that their leader was gone, they were without any help.

Many of the assisting adventurers activated their hearthstones, leaving the Night Elf scouts to fend for themselves.