Wanderlust

Author’s note: Holy crap, I FINISHED SOMETHING?? STOP THE PRESSES! ALERT THE PRESIDENT! RED ALERT!!

Wow but seriously, I FINALLY finished this introduction to my series after many long horrible years of interrupted work, and I think I finally have my groove on. This last chapter was a breeze and a pleasure to write, and I can FINALLY get to what the series is really supposed to be about! Enoki's misadventures in Azeroth X3 I feel this introduction really was a good thing though! Despite how long it took me to write it ;; ANYWAYS! Enjoy the end, and look forward to seeing Enoki again soon in a brand new fic!

Also, many MANY thanks to mai aibou for putting up with me flinging this and whining for betas and also just whining about it in general Thanks to Tali for also putting up with my whining and emo moments about this and encouraging me to keep going. Thanks to PiePie for letting me tease her relentlessly about it, and being so excited for new chapters it made me want to finish >:T And finally thanks to everyone who read this and stuck by it! I REALLY appreciate you taking the time to read my hard work X3 I look forward to hearing from you all again!

Chapter 14

The next morning, at dawn, Locke Goldbolt was there with his package just as he promised. Enoki took it and loaded it onto his cart with many thanks, and gave the Goblin his usual crooked salute as he peeled out of the drive of the inn and headed back on the path out of Ratchet. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to it, for he knew he would see it again in due time, and that many times his path might just flow through the busy, eccentric port town that had irrevocably changed his life.

The journey back through the Barrens to the barracks seemed to take an eternity, even despite the fact he was actually sitting up in the driver’s seat and urging the Kodos on. His heart raced with excitement the whole way, and his mind whirred as he plotted his grand escape. He couldn’t very well just do things by the book anymore. He had hated living by the book, and the only proper way to cast off the shackles of societal convention was to defenestrate everything that had bogged him down in the most spectacular of manners. He had all but forgotten that he was, at his core, a prankster and a joker and he was happily compelled to leave that legacy behind. There was also still the matter of Jyota. Jyota no longer caused him pain, but he wasn’t about to let him go without at least etching himself inexorably into his memory forever. He needed a grand scheme, to go out with a proverbial bang, and he occupied his mind with planning as he traversed the same route back as he had come.

It took him the same two days to return back to the Barracks, but the morning he watched the familiar buildings crowned in red awnings and spikes rise into view from the ocean of flaxen grasses they no longer made him feel as if he were returning to a cell. That morning, they were only buildings. The Barracks was merely a place he was passing through, the way it always should have been. Enoki had spent well over a year of his life there, but he felt no sorrow as he rode the cart through the center of the encampment and bid each and every structure a farewell with a salute, just as he had done when he left Aykwani Village.

Most of the Barrens militia was just awakening from their sleep and heading to breakfast around the campfires. A few waved in delight to see their redheaded, boisterous Shaman back and Enoki waved cheerily in return, but he did not stop to talk. He was on a mission. He drove the cart back to the supply hut and simply parked it outside. The Kodos went happily back into their stables as he lead them and he too bid them a fond farewell before he picked up the one, beautiful box that was meant for him. He admired it in the morning light, remembering what it contained, and with a wild grin turned and ran to the bunk where he had laid his head every night during his tour of duty in the Military.

There, he found it mercifully empty, and he set the clothing down on his old hammock to change out of his armor one last time. As he gleefully stripped out of the heavy spiked metal and worn leather he laughed and drowned in the feeling of being himself once more. Each piece of armor clattered pleasantly as he hurled it to the dusty ground and one by one replaced them with the raiment of a true Shaman.

The beautiful chain mail pants slid over his legs and fastened over his narrow waist like they had been made for him. The flame kilt fell neatly around his knees and the tunic embraced him with its smooth lining and welcoming scent of leather, metal and the dust of roads. His hands fit into the fur lined, studded and fingerless gloves effortlessly and with everything else in place, boots, belt, and axes, it was at last time for the crowning glory. With reverent hands Enoki lifted the red cloak out of the box and held it at arm’s length to admire it, scarcely able to believe it was really his.

The sturdy silken fabric rippled, shone, and sang just like liquid flame as the Shaman swung it around and draped it over his shoulders. It fell snugly into place over the sleek pauldrons covering them closely and protectively and left only the elegant fringes against his neck visible. He fastened it on his left side instead of his right, pinning it closed over his heart, and let the cape flutter into place around his striking form. He stood there a moment fully dressed, just feeling the clothes on him and all they portended for him. The weight of the cape and the shoulder guards, coupled with the friendly weights of the axes at his sides comforted him and encouraged him in a way he could not explain. The armor fit snugly, but allowed him to move in all the right ways, almost as if it had been tailored to fit not only his body, but his destiny as well.

Enoki glanced down to the pile of armor littered over the floor and smirked remorselessly as he stooped to gather it.

“Sorreh. Mebbe you’ll protect someone who need protectin’ in de future,” he apologized jokingly to the battered set and carried it outside the barrack door.

The usual rack of practice weapons and standard issue implements that stood outside the door for the guards was empty save for a few axes and a long spear; just as he had planned. Upon it, he draped the entirety of his armor in a vaguely humanoid pattern. The pauldrons plopped over the top of the rack, the harness hung from the top bars down the middle, and he hung the pants from that. The boots he left propped up against it and the gloves he hung comically from either end. The final touch came in the form of filching a burned scrap of charcoal from a nearby brazier long since extinguished and scrawling on the burnished metal, “See you suckers!” complete with a troll face razzing whomever should pass by with its devious eyes and prominent tongue.

Enoki admired his farewell, tossing the charcoal in his hand. After a moment of thought, he knelt in front of the rack and scrawled in addition on the wood beside his scarecrow armor, “Thanks for everything.” He tossed his bit of coal aside, dusted off his hands, and nodded once, then turned to steal off into the camp to exact the rest of his plan.

The first stop was Jyota’s room in the Officer’s quarters. He approached with caution, creeping along the wall on his toes, back pressed to the mortar wall, but just as he expected the entire building was entirely empty. A blast of white-hot fire took care of the lock on the door, and one firm, victorious kick opened his former lover’s quarters with a sound bang. Inside it was dark, silent, and empty. Perfect, Enoki thought with a wickedly gleeful grin. He stole inside on silent feet and immediately began rifling through the Hunter’s possessions.

Enoki tore through his room like a whirlwind, leaving nothing untouched. He scattered his maps and papers to the floor, ripped the sheets from his bed, even overturned the mattress, pulled out very box and chest until at last he found what he was looking for. In another locked chest stashed stealthily in one of the bottom drawers, which again proved no match for a concentrated blast of fire into the metal to melt the locking mechanism, he found Jyota’s personal stores of money. The golden, silver, and bronze coins glittered merrily up at him from the velvet-lined receptacle and he plunged his hand in to help himself.

“Thanks fah de charitable donation,” Enoki cackled quietly and popped open the leather satchel attached to his new belt to ladle in as much cash as it could carry with his hand.

Once Jyota was nearly cleaned out and his coin purse could accommodate no more, Enoki stood and left as quietly and swiftly as a breeze. From the Officer’s Quarters he headed straight for the stables where, as usual, only a few beasts remained tethered. One of which happened to be his beloved Zynn.

The towering, crimson raptor paced back and forth in his stall, tugging on the bridle that tied him to a post and chomping irritatedly at his bit. The bowl of raw steaks that had been his breakfast was licked clean and then knocked over upside down. Hay was strewn all around the outside of enclosure and there were fresh bite marks in the wooden walls and door of the pen. He clearly had been cooped up the entire time Enoki had been gone, and the scowling Troll ran the last part of the way to his side.

“Zynn! Zynn, buddeh I’m home!” he called elatedly.

Zynn lifted his head and turned it swiftly from side to side, his turquoise eyes blinking owlishly. Upon seeing Enoki he chattered and whistled urgently to his beloved master finally returning to him and ducked his head into the lanky arms that rose to encircle his neck. Enoki hugged the cool scaly neck preciously close and buried his face into the smooth red armor.

“Don’ worreh boy,” Enoki whispered to his mount, “We gettin’ de hell outta dis place, an’ you nevah gonna be stuck like dis again. Neiddah’a us gonna be stuck nowhere no more.”

The Shaman grinned and stroked Zynn’s chest, then ran off to the supply shed to fetch a saddle and a blanket. He returned, readied his mount and secured the leather straps around his serpentine body, then finally opened the pen door to lead him out by his reins. The raptor nearly took off running right then and there, stayed only by a sharp tug and a chiding from his Troll master. He allowed Enoki to mount him begrudgingly afterwards, and obeyed his commands to head toward the center of the encampment where his rider hoped everyone was still gathered.

Only one thing remained, and that was to bid farewell to Jyota for good. Enoki couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he rode up heroically, told him off, and left him in his dusty wake as he rode off and out of the Barrens forever. His hands tightened on the reins, his feet dug harder into Zynn’s sides, and the raptor coursed on weightless claws through the soldiers’ sleeping quarters and to the central pit where only a few stragglers remained. Jyota was nowhere to be seen. In fact the camp was oddly abandoned and quiet for that hour of the morning

Wrinkling his long nose with annoyance, Enoki spurred Zynn toward a rather shocked looking Orc captain catching a late breakfast. Raptor and rider loomed over him and blotted out the sun, wild green eyes flashing above a crooked and puckish grin.

“Oy,” Enoki began commandingly, “You know where Captain Jyota be at? I got a farewell gift fah him.”

The Orc pointed blankly off into the distance, toward the back of camp where the central command building stood. The imposing structure was several stories tall, and served as a meeting headquarters for all of the captains and commanders, as well as a forum for the rare occasion one of their beloved leaders would grace them with their presence. As was their custom, it seemed someone of importance was there, for the entirety of the encampment was bowed respectfully on one knee in flawless rank and file in front of the building.

“Master Vol’jin arrived this morning for him. They’re at central command making the final arrangements before they return to Orgrimmar. I don’t know if you’ll be able to-“ the captain continued, only to be interrupted.

“Dat be alright,” Enoki interjected with relish, “I think I got it all taken care of…”

It couldn’t have been more perfect if he had set it up himself. He had planned to just confront the soon to be Shadow Hunter at breakfast to sever their ties publicly and for good, but fate had unfolded in an entirely much more satisfying way. A prime target for mischief, mayhem, and fun opened itself wide open and Enoki hurled himself headlong into it. The Shaman’s lips curled into a darkly puckish grin and he swiftly turned his mount toward the congregation of soldiers seeing their brother on to greater things. He dug his heels into Zynn’s sides and both of them shot like a crack of impatient lightning toward the imposing structure.

Every soldier of the Barrens encampment where the honored brother of the Darkspear tribe, Jyota, held nothing but respect for their superior officer for getting such an opportunity and waited patiently on bended knee for him to emerge. It would be a quiet, respectful ceremony, the Troll would leave with the caravan headed back to Orgrimmar, and then everyone would return back to their normal routines. A ceremony and some celebration would be a welcome diversion from traversing the roads and rolling fields of the Barrens over again, even though they all knew they would have to return to their daily drudgery sooner or later. They expected some music, some applause some battle cries and Horde spirit, nothing more. No one was expecting a long, shrill whistle and the resounding scream of a wild raptor from behind them, and every head in the audience turned in unison.

A wild crimson blur blazed to life over the dusty hill just as they turned to look, and a strangled yelp of surprise rose from the startled soldiers as a redheaded Troll, clad from head to toe in his fiery cloak astride his equally sanguine mount plunged headlong into them. Soldiers dove to the side, ducked, rolled, and did whatever they could to avoid the lithe vessel of terror as Enoki wheeled and spurred Zynn in mad zigzags through the crowd. Zynn chattered and snapped playfully at retreating limbs as he effortlessly bobbed and wove through every rank and file in Enoki’s live game of soldier dominos while he laughed hysterically and made certain to knock every row out of place. It took only a matter of moments to disperse a trained regiment of hearty Horde forces into chaos and angry growling fury, and Enoki glanced over his shoulder with a satisfied smirk as he steered Zynn toward the tower of the central command building.

“JYOTA! Oy! JYOTA! Heeeeeey! Jyota!” he yelled as he approached.

The Hunter was nowhere to be seen through the windows of the main chamber. Enoki and Zynn rounded the building searching, calling out, and slipping deftly away from the guards slowly beginning to approach him for disturbing the peace.

Inside, on the second floor in a private, quiet chamber, Jyota was dressed in the simple raiment of an apprentice Shadow Hunter, and was down on one knee with his head bowed before the beloved leader of the Darkspear tribe. Vol’jin himself stood before him; fierce, silently commanding, wise and calm. His fierce rush’kah mask rested over his face, his powerful, battle scarred body was wreathed in the dark armor of a servant of the Loa, and in his hand he held steadfastly to his shadow glaive which he rested on the floor before the humble Troll he was to initiate into his order.

“De spirits speak highly of you, Jyota,” he said in his deep, omniscient timbre.

Jyota smiled and bowed his head.

“I live tah serve dem, Mastah Vol’jin. I have been readeh tah give mah life tah dem, an’ tah you evah since I can remembah. I be readeh fah dis,” he assured him confidently.

“You be readeh tah walk de line between light and dark, of life an’ death, of de spirits an’ de material world? Is yah soul prepared tah be molded an’ tempahed tah de likin’ an’ de whims’a de Loa?” Vol’jin continued, his voice and proclamations ringing through the small chamber.

Jyota’s blood raced in his veins. His limbs tingled with the power radiating from the leader of his people and favorite of their Gods. His mind exploded into a kaleidoscope of glorious visions of fighting beside him, speaking with his beloved Gods and wielding their boon with firm justice. Everything had finally come to fruition, his destiny stood before him, all he had to do was agree.

“Yes. I be readeh.”

“Den swear unto me, before ol’ Vol’jin, de spirits, de Loa, an’ de Horde. Give me yah fealty and yah blood oath!” Vol’jin boomed proudly.

“Mastah Vol’jin, as a son of de Darkspear tribe, an’ willin’ loyal servant of all de Loa in deir greatness, it is wit great honah dat I-“

“JYOTA!”

The violet-haired Troll’s eyes snapped open, his lips pressed into a thin, horrified line. The sickeningly familiar voice turned his blood to ice and steeled his tongue. Vol’jin’s brows rose behind his mask and he leaned forward curiously, but said nothing.

“Uh… I-I…” Jyota spluttered.

He hazarded a glance over his shoulder out the window, but saw nothing, and shook his head to clear it and begin again.

“I, Jyota, son of de Darkspear tribe, willin’ loyal servant of all de-“

“Oooooy! Jyota! Jyoooota! JYOTA!”

The voice sounded insistently once more, and Jyota’s violet hair stood on end.

“I… JYOTA. Son of de-“

“JyotaJyotaJyotaJyotaJyota! Jyotaaaaaaaaaa!”

Jyota remained on the floor, grinding his teeth, eyes wide and staring at nothing, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and quivering with restrained rage. Outside the voice seemed to drift away, followed by angry shouting, but after a brief moment it returned, louder than ever. It was Vol’jin who finally cracked a secret, amused smirk behind his mask and cleared his throat gently.

“I think yah bettah attend tah dat, mon. It don’ sound like it goin’ away,” he said.

Terrified golden eyes looked back up at him, and he gestured with his head toward the window. Jyota got up shakily, and made his way on stiff, mechanical legs to the sill where he rested his hands and peered out. Just as he expected, Enoki was beneath the tower. He sat astride Zynn, dressed in what was clearly a traveling set of clothes, and laughed as he dodged infuriated guards and screeched his name.

“JYOTA!”

“WHAT?!” the harried Troll bellowed down, then clapped a hand over his mouth, “I-I mean, Enoki whatcha DOIN’?”

Enoki finally stopped and looked up toward the tower and grinned from ear to ear as he faced his former lover one last time.

“Oh dere yah are! Heh, well I jes’ wanted tah drop by an’ say goodbye!” he called.

A shadow moved fluidly behind Jyota and Enoki didn’t have to guess twice to know whom it was. His former lover, however, actually looked aghast at the news.

“G-Goodbye?” he spluttered.

“Yup! Goodbye, smell yah latah, not lettin’ de door hit mah ass on de way out an’ all dat good stuff. I be clearin’ outta here mahself!” Enoki replied, his hands on his hips and his nose loftily in the air.

A pained look somewhere between anguish and betrayal washed over Jyota’s face.

“Leavin’…? You?” he murmured, before reason reigned supreme in his mind again and anger replaced the hurt, “An’ why de hell are yah doin’ dis NOW?”

“Well, I couldn’ very well leave witout sayin’ goodbye! An’ as yah can see I kinda in a hurreh. So!” Enoki began, lowering his eyes wickedly with a wolfish grin and cupping a hand beside his mouth to amplify , “See yah latah Jyota! Sorreh I sucked at bein’ a soldier fah you! I bet you’ll be WAY bettah at bein’ a Shadow Huntah den a Captain!”

Enoki watched the color leave Jyota’s face and his jaw drop nearly to the ground beneath the window. Beside him, Vol’jin, clearly amused, slid his mask up and onto his wild mane of flame orange hair to watch.

“Oh, an’ I’ll be takin’ Zynn, thanks very much fah him, an’ probably a little bit more den half yah cash but, I took a little EXTRA fah pain an’ suffahin’! You undahstand!” Enoki continued, his palms upturned and a cocky smirk slathered over his gleeful face, “So I think everythin’ be in ordah. Thanks fah signin’ me up, tossin’ me out intah de shittiest place in de world, an’ runnin’ me ragged fah a year! It was fun! Oh… An’ one last thing... Thanks fah all de ultra hot barracks sex too! Still think I woulda wowed yah on top, but! Your loss eh? Ah! An’ I promise, swear on mah life not tah steal dat extra sexy thing yah liked tah do, you know what I mean.”

Enoki clicked his tongue suggestively and pointed a finger up toward Jyota with a wink. Jyota, meanwhile, was visibly trembling, white as a sheet, glistening with sweat and gripping the windowsill so hard his nails splintered the wood. The things coming out of Enoki’s mouth were incomprehensible. They were so brash, so arrogant, so perfectly delivered he refused to believe he was really even hearing them; that of all people, Vol’jin was hearing them. Yet it was so clear in those beautiful, mischievous and beguiling green eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing and who was hearing it.

Enoki was wildfire. He had lit his life with his untamed fury, but in the end he could not be contained.

“I-I… I wh- You-! I-! I would NEVAH-! You be-! I can’t-! Dis jes’-! AUGH ENOKI!” Jyota stammered, tangling his hands in his Mohawk.

Enoki only laughed.

“See yah around, Jyota! Mebbe our paths will cross again! ‘Till den!” he called.

The redhead raised one hand in a crooked, mock salute, and then returned it to the reins of his raptor, which he snapped commandingly.

“Let’s go, Zynn!”

Zynn threw his head back and gave a mighty roar of newfound freedom. He ducked it low as he turned to run in the direction his master commanded him, and effortlessly swiped two guards off their feet with his thick tail, leaving them quite literally in his dust. They sat up and watched Enoki go, blinking, and glanced at each other with a private and knowing smirk. Enoki would never return to the small outpost in the Barrens, they knew, but his legacy and memory would certainly stay with those would remember.

Slowly, the rest of the soldiers began to regroup and turn their eyes back up to the proceedings that had been so spectacularly interrupted. Jyota managed to find his wits at last with the eyes of his entire batallion turned to him, and whirled around against the window frame frantically.

“Mastah Vol’jin, I am SO sorreh fah him! I-I assure you, I-I ain’-! Well, what I mean tah say is I won’-! Uh! Oh Loa, how can I even make up fah-“ Jyota rambled, his paleness quickly replaced with a flush of humiliation.

Vol’jin slid his Rush’kah mask back down over his still smiling face and walked slowly back to his former position. He turned, picked up his Fel Glaive, and tapped it lightly once on the ground.

“Calm yahself, Jyota. Don’ concern yahself wit such petty little things,” he answered, “And uh, jes’… Keep it to yahself. Don’ mattah none tah me what yah do in de bedroom. Though yah might wanna choose yah lovahs more carefully next time.”

Whether or not he really saw the leader of his Tribe wink at him underneath his fierce tribal mask would forever remain a question in the back of Jyota’s mind, but he would swear he did as he dropped to one knee subserviently once more.

“Y-Yes, sir…”

“Good,” Vol’jin crooned approvingly without missing a beat, “Now, where were we?”

The noonday sun wheeled high above the Barrens and shone brightly down on the humble little Horde encampment as a speeding conflagration of red left it. Enoki rode hard out into the baked flaxen fields, crouched low over Zynn’s spiny neck and urging him to run as fast as he dared. The lands that had been his prison for so long blurred into nothingness around him, melted away and left only him, the feel of the hot wind on his face and through his hair, and Zynn’s powerful body beneath him. No longer did he question fate, for he had seen his, and he ran headlong into it at last. All he had ever wanted to do was see everything there was to see, go everywhere, meet everyone, do everything, but he had never simply embraced it.

The winds raced to meet him and lifted his cloak around him in welcome to their brother. They whispered in his ear and floated exotic scents to his nose and coyly promised something magnificent over the horizon. They had always promised him that. Enoki followed at last, not knowing where he was going, and relishing it. He cared naught for where he ended up, for what he would do when he got there, or how he would even survive in a world he knew so little about. The journey, that seductive caress of wanderlust against his brazen heart, was what he euphorically succumbed to after so many years of not knowing what it was. He flung himself up from the saddle and spread his arms wide to welcome the vast expanse of Azeroth yawning out into infinity before him, cape flaring in the wind and catching the sun.

Enoki and Zynn would ride until their bodies could run no longer, and then they would do it all over again. Day after day, night after night until they had seen everything, or until their lives were snuffed out. They needed no map, no guide, no provisions, for they entered the world with fearless hearts, dauntless spirits and a ravenous hunger for all things. Enoki had begun many journeys in his short life, but at last he set foot on the grandest one. As he had learned, and so practiced, all journeys began with a single step, but his, on that day, he began racing the wind and letting the blaze of his spirit burn.