Shadows Within

HordeFTW: It might be. Check back in a few days, after I've simmered for a tick. And yes, he's trying... not consciously, but... if I say anything else, I might give too much. So there. =P

Fawnheart: Yeah, I might have modeled some of her bits off my ex... well, without being a two-faced little *grumblemutterspitehateragerant*... I'll not get into that. Yeah, Kal's an ex assassain... I thought that was clear from the flashback chapter, lol. And he ain't the only one...

A/N: The title of this chapter is lifted directly from a piece of early PlayStation era video game music, specifically the opening theme from the first Wild Arms, also titled Into the Wilderness... which I also use as Shyla's song when writing.
Link for the goodness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbiEH5DMx78

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Kalderin had forgotten just how long the trip from one continent to the other was... then again, he wasn't paying too much attention then, either. Shyla wad been wandering around, examining the ship and the workings of the crew, while the human had stayed much where he'd arrived, leaning on the rail at the front of the ship, watching the waves as best he could in the dark and letting himself get lost in thought.
For once, it was a pleasant thing.

He was so gone that the disguised troll's approach went unnoticed, right up until she leaned on the rail beside him. "So, enjoying yourself, are you?" she asked with her strange voice.
"Taking a moment to calm down, yes," he replied, finally taking full mental stock of what she now looked like. Her clothing and height had remained unaltered, and the tone of her skin had only deepened enough to pass as elven, but the devil was in the details; like many elves, her eyes were silver and glowed softly, her ears elongated, her hair seemed have shifted somewhat, and there were two small silver streaks above her upper lip, right where her tusks would have been.
"Nice outfit," he quipped. "It it real?"
"Seems that way, yeah," she told him, placing her weight on a spot within arm's reach. "What's with you today?"
Kalderin glanced over at her. "What's with what about who where now?"
"You," she shot back, smirking at him. "Stuff like that, man. You're being... well, silly."
The rogue gave a soft chuckle. "What? I'm not allowed to be in a good mood?"
"Well, no, you are, but..." The troll/elf spun two of her now delicate fingers, which she kept using in pairs to imitate her natural state, thinking of what to say. "But, frankly... it's not... you know, you."
"You think so?" he asked, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Maybe... the me you know me as, wasn't always me. Maybe."
The human turned his gaze back to the ocean, but even his vision would not have cut through the night enough to see the skin deepen around the shaman's cheeks again, which she began to think was happening more than she was comfortable with.

The troll cleared her throat, pushing off the rail to a full stand once more. "I don't know about you, but I need some rest." She shifter her weight, suddenly nervous when she thought about sleeping. "Uh... there was only, um, one room open, so we, er... well, we kinda-"
"That's fine," Kalderin cut in, turning his head to her. "It's safer that way, for... just in case we have any more visitors, y'know?"
"Y- yeah, good point," she replied, one hand resting on her hip, the other scratching the back of her head. "I didn't think about that."
"Only 'cuz you're not paranoid enough yet," the young man retorted, still not seeing the blush.
"That's probably a good thing, yeah? Well... good night, man."
The human nodded. "G'night."

He let his eyes follow her for a moment, tracing her figure against the spots of torchlight on the ship, before turning back to the water. The rogue wasn't tired, per se, but he knew he'd need to act like it soon, to avoid suspicion. Digging in one of his pouches, he pulled out the ribbon of white cloth with the red thread sewn carefully in, examined it for a moment, then tied it around his left wrist, arranging like he'd been taught years ago so the thread was just barely visible. Though he doubted that another hitman would have found their way onto the craft, one could never be too sure...
The sound of the waves breaking against the ship's prow had a soothing effect on the human, like always. Something about the way water itself spoke, whispering in waves and lakes, bubbling in streams and rivers, went miles towards calming Kalderin's nerves for as long as he could remember. In fact, there was that one time with Ny-
The rogue's face went slack in shock when he realized how close he was to saying her name. He'd been slipping, but... well, it couldn't be helped; the water was lulling him into complacency. He rubbed his eyes, now actually feeling the shell of fatigue weigh down on him.
Perhaps a nap could help. Just a bit.

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"Apparently, she was supposed to meet with Selean about half an hour ago somewhere north of Greymane Wall. No, I don't know why, Aneon, I'm not a psychic."
The warlock frowned, though unsurprised that she preempted his question. "Well, would you mind asking her?"
The demon turned again, gibbering at the druid who now sat on the ground. After a dull, unfocused response, the succubus shifted her attention again.
"Something about a package of some sort, she wasn't speaking clearly." She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"This isn't getting us anywhere. Turn around," Kolire sighed.
Reinholt gave her a confused look, but the frustration he saw in the human's grey eyes told him to just go with it. The half-elf turned, making sure he couldn't see what was going on, placing a good deal of faith in the warlock beside him.
"Fine. Just get it over with," the boy grumbled, the wisps of his good mood fading.
The demon knelt beside the tauren, an odd look on her face as she spoke. "Listen, this would probably go much faster without having to use a translator, but..."
Taeweth shifted her bulk, a sudden bout of discomfort striking her. "But what?" she asked.
Kolire poked her index fingers together in a sheepish gesture. "Well, you see... ah..." The demon looked as if she wanted to say something, the gave a sharp exhale of "Oh... fuck it."

She reached forward, grabbing the tauren by the front of her jerkin, and yanked the druid's face onto hers, diving into a kiss. Taeweth's eyes bolted open at the feel of the succubus' tongue invading her mouth and the sting of magic that accompanied it.
And as soon as she felt that, the demon pulled away, looking off to the side with an apologetic face. "Done," she called out.
"Thank the Gods," the warlock muttered, turning to face them both.

The warrior, taller than his companion, spoke first. "My name is Reinholt Dawnfall, this is my friend Aneon Myir. He's not very kind with words, mind you."
The tauren saw the younger figure scoff and shrug, perhaps agreeing with his partner, while the succubus nodded on no uncertain terms that it was true. Something about the spear-wielding fighter was off, but the druid didn't have the peace of mind to put everything together just yet. "T- Taeweth Softhorn," she stammered, still shaken from her recent encounter.
"Well then, miss Taeweth," Reinholt asked in his deep, smooth voice, "would you mind telling us why you're here?"

"Selean asked for me," she began, "something about help with her project. She received this satchel, you see, with a fel-charged gem inside. She was trying to find a way to cleanse it, but..."
"Hasn't made any headway," Aneon picked up, nodding. Taeweth was a bit startled at the warlock's utterance, but shrugged it off when Reinholt spoke again.
"Would you be willing to come with us, then?" the warrior asked.
The druid didn't answer with words; she shifted into her quickened cheetah form and gave a soft yowl of acknowledgment. The two men summoned their horses, the warlock pulling his minion into the saddle with them, who smiled and tried her best to perturb her master with subtle actions.

The horses slowed their pace to match the druid's, giving Taeweth ample time to examine the riders. The young warlock seemed to keep himself well-groomed, even for wearing what would be considered shabby and worn-looking robes. They were still twinged with the fel magics he used, but not so much that it would make the druid ill.
She focused on the warrior for a moment, decked in plate, spear held loosely in his right hand, flaxen mane of hair billowing out behind him, and decided that Alliance or not, he was nice.
"Those wretches might have taken her to one of the Runs," the warrior called out.
"How do you figure?" the warlock replied, turning his head enough to look.
"Call it a hunch, Aneon," came the reply, "they're mostly deserted. The shipwreck in the north might be a good start."
The human looked back to Taeweth. "Any objections?"
She tried to shake her head, but an odd yowl was all that came out.
"That's probably a 'no,' friend," the half blood laughed, urging his steed a little more. "Follow me!"