[Horde] Chapter Two: Session Twenty-Six
September 17th (Evening)
With Arthak, he heads toward the port, where he observes that battle has already struck it. As he runs through the trees with his companions, Mankrik and Thura, he suddenly realizes that the sounds of battle have subsided.
The forest is different as well, and there’s a cold wind that suddenly runs through. His companions are gone, and he hears heavy, labored footfalls crunching through the leaves and branches. There is heavy, labored breathing.
Arthak turns around a tree, and he sees a familiar figure, blood dripping from his body. For a moment, Arthak sees Ner’zhul staggering forward. Parts of his body are missing. As he turns toward Arthak, it’s clear his neck is almost completely detached, and most of his flesh on his face are gone, but his eyes are a brilliant violet.
He laughs, and the vision vanishes.
Mankrik is shaking Arthak’s shoulder, calling for him.
As other orcs run by, one of them drops, three arrows in his neck.
The orcs are being attacked by scouts and outriders. They look to Arthak for orders. Arthak sends some of the orcs with shields to protect the core group from the archers as they continue heading toward the docks. Several other orcs go down as the elves continue to strike and retreat.
They continue to push through, setting the trees ablaze to try and burn the elves out. Not many of the arrows manage to hit Arthak, but one digs its way through his chainmail, scoring a critical hit before the elves were forced to retreat.
Up ahead, the battle on the docks is raging--yet there’s no buildings or fire.
Instead there are massive trees, and cracking frost. At the foot of one of the large trees, there is a blood handprint streaking down it, and there’s a twisted body beneath it. Arthak shakes his head, and he once again sees the port, ablaze with flames.
The elves are losing. Many members of the Warsong clan and others are tearing through the area. In the far distance are the piers, where there seems to be a last stand. Several boats have been set ablaze, and others have been boarded by orcs.
Less than a dozen robed elves are standing in a semi-circle around the half of the docks that have not fallen to the orcs. Arcane energy is cracking, and as a wave of orcs run in, a javelin is flung, taking one done.
However, as another assault rages, a wall of arcane force blocks the soaring arrows and javelins, and wolfriders and orcs slam into it.
The mages start to move back, heading back to the vessels behind them with the wall of force. A elf with long blonde hair is at their head in rather simple robes, clearly their leader.
Arthak directs 10 of his people to try and get a boat to traverse around the wall, while Thura, Mankrik, himself, and the rest of the orcs go head on to try and set up a pincer maneuver.
Three elves break off to try and engage Arthak. There is a single one of the more immaculately protected warriors--a spellbreaker--as well as an archer and a green-garbed warrior. The archer lands an arrow on Arthak.
The mages exchange some words, and several drop their concentration on the spell, while their leader takes on the fully brunt. One of the mages summons huge shards of ice, which begins to rain down on the attacking orcs. Several of the orcs drop immediately. One slams into Thura, and she’s knocked completely unconscious.
The other two mages run over to the edge of the pier, and there is a ripple of energy. Blue arcane magic ripples through the air, and they suddenly disappear. Another blizzard is dropped at the rear of the charging orcs.
Arthak charges in on the elven duelist that had started to engage, swinging in on him. The duelist is stunned, and Arthak continues his charge at the spellbreaker. As he swings in, the spellbreaker raises his shield and blocks the blow.
The spellbreaker sees the prismatic blade that he’s using, and then his face contorts into anger directed at Arthak as he recognizes Quel’delar.
One of Arthak’s clansman finishes off the elven duelist as they pursue their leader. Mankrik tries to go and pin down the archer.
The spellbreaker shoves Arthak’s weapon side, crying a battle cry of “Endala finel endal, Isera'duna!” (Breathe your last breath, greenskin!) before continuing to engage Arthak. Arthak returns the onslaught after blocking the elf’s glaive.
A nearby warlock barks at Arthak to bring the warlock down so he can perhaps bring the wall of force down.
Arthak smacks into the spellbreaker, knocking his shield aside before plunging his sword into the elf’s chest.
The archer peppers Mankrik with arrows, and two of the mages fire off a series of arcane missiles at Arthak. He is immediately pinged hard.
Mankrik follows up on the archer, but she deftly ducks under his blows.
Several orcs from the ship hurls their javelins at the leader mage, but he is able to maintain his concentration.
The mages alongside their leader starts to hurl cantrips at the boat.
The warlock that had shouted at Arthak hurls fel energy at the barrier, shattering it aside. The mage staggers back as the spell is broken.
Arthak runs in to engage with the mage, but as he swings, his sword glances off an arcane shield as the mage protects himself from the blow. The archer releases a barrage of arrows at Arthak to try and get him off the mage. One of them sticks in Arthak’s side, bleeding him.
Arthak unloads on the mage, running his weapon through his chest. He then rounds on the two remaining mages, both female. He cuts into both of them.
As the mages try to counter attack, there’s a cough from behind Arthak, and the mage he had cut down grasps at something around his neck. “Linore. Ana...Anu’belore.”
Light explodes from the ships around them and starts to fire toward them as the cannons go off. The mages hold hands, and close their eyes, prepared to die.
However, Arthak grabs the stunned mage and starts to run. The other mage’s eyes opens, and her hand immediately ignites with fire. She hurls the firebolt, but it misses, and she almost trips over her own feet.
The mage starts to scream out at a name after Arthak as he retreats with her companion.
Arthak tosses the mage at Mankrik, and then he runs back to try and grab the other one. He succeeds in grabbing mage, and then goes to grab Thura.
There are a bunch of small things flying toward the shore. Flaming arrows are burying themselves the entirety of the way from the shore toward Arthak and the rest of the orcs.
One of the orcs drops dead immediately. The others are able to keep running. A few of the flaming arrows bury themselves in Arthak’s armor, but he is able to stay up as the city is set ablaze.
More canon fire goes off, and something flickers overhead. One of the far off vessels begins to sink, apparently sliced in half by a massive, flickering forcefield.
The cannon fire slams harmlessly into the barrier.
Arthak tends to his clansmen, clapping Mankrik on the back and waking up Thura. She asks what happened, and he explains that she took a hit, but they ultimately won.
The docks are going to need repaired, but a number of vessels were claimed, and some of the burning vessels might be able to be repaired.
While they rest, Arthak also realizes that all the things that Remnii had given him to hold are gone. Including her sending stone, though his half is still here.
Arthak checks in with Gromm, who informs him the island is just a small section of the lands they were invading. However, he isn’t sure what the thing that sliced the ship in two was, or what it means for them.
The Warsong will likely be spreading out over the island.
Arthak asks about the village, and Gromm said that it is the largest dock on the isle. However, his people don’t ride ships unless it’s to get to the next fight.
Arthak mentions he has some skilled sailors, and asks if he can lay claim to the village. Gromm said he would not dispute it, but Gul’dan and his Stormreavers may if he wants to play politics.
Arthak mentions that if he is able to hold the port, he can promise the Warsong priority on any ships, and first access to the mainland.
Gromm mentions it’s a curious proposition, but he reiterates that he has no desire to play politics over boats. Besides, Arthak should be wise enough not to deny his people transportation in the first place he adds with a chuckle.
He wishes Arthak luck, and heads off.
Arthak goes to his tent, but as he enters, the tent leads outside. It’s frigid and cold to the bone. The ground and grass cracks in half under his boot, frozen solid. He is surrounded by trees, the once lively bark frozen solid.
Then he blinks and he’s back in his tent. During his rest, the name and properties of his new blade come to it: It’s called Quel’delar
September 18th
Throughout the day, Arthak is able to see that a shield has been raised over the lands. In the distance, there are some vessels beyond the barrier, seemingly watching, but most have left.
Lantresor is also sitting outside of Arthak’s tent, sharpening his blade. Arthak gives him a brief summary of the previous night, informing him that they managed to take two captives and may have an opportunity to hold the port.
Arthak asks for a report.
Lantresor: “The city is fallen, though word from the mainland says that the warriors that guarded it have fled from the city itself and beneath, but it is now under the control of the Horde, that is for certain.”
Arthak: “Well. Progress then.”
Lantresor: “I do not know what this barrier is, but I believe the warlocks and others will soon have an answer. They typically like to look into such things.”
Arthak: “It does not seem to be the sort of problem that swinging a sword will fix. And of Yrel?”
Lantresor: “She has been taken into custody of Shaspira and her ilk.”
Arthak: “Why? Can you explain?”
Lantresor: “That is simple. She attempted to strike Shaspira herself. I imagine she did not take kindly. “
Arthak: “Ancestors damn it. Damn it damn it damn it. Remnii?”
Lantresor: “Remnii is gone. Fled beyond the portal that whisked the Horde into the heart of the city. Where she is now, I could not say.”
Arthak sighs heavily.
Lantresor: “She fled with the Ati-kaso sorcerer.”
Arthak: “And the rest of the Ati-kaso?”
Lantresor: “They had their own interesting encounters during the night. I’ve spoken with them. The young draenei is nowhere to be found. Whisked away under the cover of night.”
Arthak: “Makes sense. Yrel’s… actions would have made Dornaa an immediate target, especially if Remnii wasn’t there.”
Lantresor: “She was whisked away for her own protection in reaction to Yrel’s gambit.”
Arthak: “Idiocy.”
Lantresor: “I would not be so quick to judge, Arthak.”
Arthak: “You’re right. Maybe she had a plan.”
Lantresor: “She did. She informed me of her plan before she did it.”
Arthak: “Explain.”
Lantresor: “You ordered me to keep an eye on Yrel, and I did.”
He grins.
Arthak: “So she told you her plan, and you observed.”
Lantresor: “Yes. I could have raised my blade against her, but for what purpose would I have done so? To stop her from making a decision she believed wholeheartedly was the correct course of action? She told me she wished no longer to watch Remnii be toyed by the eredar’s games. That she would give anything. Even her own life. I could have stood against her. I could have prevented her. I could have bested her. But who am I to inform her of what her heart sang? The song of one’s heart is one of the purest things one can follow. And that song has carried Remnii towards her next journey. Whatever that may be. Come. Sit. There is no need to be tense. No need to fret. After all, you said yourself you would be unable to protect her. Now you don’t need to.”
He gestures at his little camp. Arthak sits.
Lantresor: “You must agree with me when I say that someone like her would be better off not seeing what must be done. To carry the Arthak that she knew with her, perhaps when the winds of fate blow her destination back across your path, perhaps she can remind you of who you were once were should you stray from your path, and my council be unable to correct it.”
He passes a small dish over to Arthak, which is seemingly filled with alcohol. Arthak takes a sip, then passes it back.
Arthak: “Everything you said is true. But she is still an idiot. But who am I to judge an idiot.”
Lantresor: “If Samuro were here, I believe he would say it takes one to truly know one.”
Arthak: “Yes, that is exactly what he would say.”
Lantresor flips his blade around and sheathes it. “We have much to do. The Horde already begins to move and jockey for positions across the city. If I know anything about you, young Saurfang, you will want to stick your face directly into the heart of it. I will watch this port and ensure that people know you’ve staked your claim. Return with some of the others.”
Arthak: “Very well. Lantresor, thank you.”
Lantresor: “A blademaster’s path leads them in unconventional ways, but they always arrive at their destination. If one refuses to listen to the wind, you might find yourself having to travel through a mountain. We all saw what happened last time you attempted such a thing.”
He smiles, gathers up a Broken Blade banner, and then heads to the dock.
Meanwhile, Azgadaan was trying to stake his claim at a manor. Runesight had explained the barrier that was erected around the elflands, stating they were trapped until it was brought down. It also hindered the spellcasting of any non-elves.
One manor is very tall, about five stories, and there is a telescope in the top that overlooks the coast. It’s a quiet place
The second is kind of forbidding. There is a steel wall that is surrounding it, and it seems more secure.
The third manor is a peculiar-looking manor that seems to be the smallest one, but there seems to be a lot of valuables even on the outside that seem to be made of a solid crystal or gemstone. There seems to be a strange-looking statue of a crystalline woman in a not very conservative outfit. In each hand, she holds a scale.
The succubus explains that the one with the telescope belonged to Linore and Sylvos Windrunner. One of their daughters found astrology interesting, and Linore was the harbormaster. Sylvos, meanwhile, was a talented magister.
The second one belonged to magister Rommath Pyrewing, adopted son to the grand magister, and one of the more dangerous elements those that facilitated the invasion were concerned about. He was also a very talented pyromancer.
The third one belonged to the magistrate mayor, who was not a mage, but flaunted his wealth. He was “beloved” by his people.
Azgadaan ultimately chose the Windrunner manor as his. He erects a large “A” on the door with prestidigitation, and he finds the manor itself abandoned. He is able to get a good layout of the place. A lot of the valuables have been taken. There are some paintings that largely seem to be decoration. There are paintings of the city and beautiful murals. The manor is largely undamaged.
As Azgadaan searches the kitchen, a lot of the exceptionally valuable things have also been taken.
There appears to have been a fire in the fireplace, and there are some valuables that had been thrown into it. Wooden objects that were too unwieldy to carry, and a lot of parchment. Receipts and things that were deemed unnecessary.
The telescope itself is still in good condition, and most of the beds and guest rooms are intact.
Finally, he does come to the study, which is locked. He asks his succubus companion if she can detect magic, and she said she couldn’t. He asks if she can get through the door, and she said she could try.
As she approaches, Azgadaan takes 20 feet back. After some fiddling, she is able to unlock it. Azgadaan asks her to open the door, and she said she wasn’t interested in anything beyond it. Azgadaan continues to try to goad her to open the door, but she is taking none of it.
Azgadaan said they could go through together, and he loops his arm with hers and attempts to slide through. She tries to squirm out but is unable to.
As he pulls her through, Azgadaan feels the weight disappear, and the succubus vanishes. He feels a degree of melonous, and then it turns into a dread.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to treat a woman? I know all about her. I know all about you Azgadaan. Why don’t you stay here, lock the door, and think about what you’ve done.”
The voice is his own, and he follows the commands.
“Why don’t you spend the next day or so going through this library and getting rid of everything. After all, we don’t want anything to fall into the wrong hands, do we? So go ahead. Burn every book. We don’t want them to fall into the wrong hands, after all.”
After a full day, a voice in the back of Azgadaan’s head said “Maybe that will teach you a lesson, boy.”
The charm effect is lifted.
Azgadaan goes outside and checks out the other manors. The large black manor has been occupied by Black Rock orcs, who is using the mansion for spare parts.
Azgadaan returns to the original manor, writes “Azgadaan. Fuck off” in orcish on the door. He prays with SpiritSong, hoping Yrel has the strength to get through anything she is facing. The crystal hums quietly as he tries to connect with it, but nothing seems to happen. He goes to sleep.
The next day to loots what he can, and he goes to Go’el about getting his armor removed. Unfortunately, he is unable to do what Raluhi and Remnii were able to. He suggests possibly Rehgar, who has an expertise in shattering curses and the like.
At some point, he did invite Aracyra over to see his new place.
Arthak goes to meet with Shaspira, who is amusing herself with a few mana wyrms that seem to be forcefully enraptured by her presence. She greets Arthak, and then begins to absorb the mana wyrms, drawing their energy into her body as they dissolve.
Shaspira comments that Arthak needs to keep a better leash on his slaves, as he lost several of them during the initial course of the invasion. Arthak apologizes, though Shaspira expresses she does not like the taste of failure, and she will ensure she doesn’t taste it again.
However, she accepts his apology.
She mentions that Velhari had returned with some news, and now Remnii may lead them directly to Jaina--who may become the cornerstone of the war.
However, they can’t do anything with the Gatekeeper raised over their heads.
She also congratulates Arthak on dealing with Ner’zhul, though they will have to recover Frostmourne. Ultimately the loss of the Eye of Sargeras is acceptable, but the loss of the blade is not.
They talk for a bit longer, but then Shaspira’s eyes turn to the front gates as a commotion breaks out. There are a number of orcs coming through--members of the Dragonmaw clan. They are pushing people aside, coming straight through.
As they enter, a fel orc comes to the forefront. He bows his head in a somewhat deferring way. He is clearly not the chieftain.
An elf comes walking through, with long black hair. The orcs make way for her, and she looks up at Shaspira. “There you are,” she says in orcish. “My lady Shaspira, I’ve heard a great deal about you, and it’s a privilege to meet you. We may have a great deal to offer each other.”
Shaspira: “And who are you? Clearly you are not everything you appear to be.”
The elf grins a sinister smile. “Keen, as I expected, my lady. You may call me Sinestra, and a great deal has changed in the 10,000 years since you were last here. I may be able to fill in those gaps for you.”
Shaspira: “And what are you requesting in return? I do not believe a… woman… like you would offer something without expecting something in return.”
Sinestra: “A number of things, but of mutually beneficial intent. As they say…” She says a phrase in common Arthak doesn’t understand: (The enemy of my enemy is my friend.) “If you discount my generosity, I’ll have you know I’ve spoken with the warchief. He has already lent me the aid of the Dragonmaw clan. After the demise of their previous chieftain, Morgar here has been kind enough to help me facilitate the first stages of my plan. I can provide a great deal of weapons that can turn the tide of this battle. After all, you know what gathers beyond the Ban’dinoriel, and you need firepower. I can offer more firepower than anything else on this… wretched….”
Her eyes flicker.
Sinestra: “If you don’t believe me, perhaps you should look toward the city. My first gift to you. The first of many. You won’t mind if I reclaim a number of things that belong to me by right, yes? I promise I won’t get in the way.”
Shaspira looks at Arthak, then she gestures for him to follow her. She goes to the outer wall. As they look toward the city, they can see the silhouette far in the distance. Arthak recalls seeing a massive statue of an elf. But there is something else there now.
The two hands of this elf are outstretched. One of them is now holding a massive chain, and attached to the chain is a massive head of some sort of gigantic, red, reptilian creature. The same one Arthak had glimpsed before.
The head is not attached to a body any longer.
Sinestra: “Do we have a deal, lady Shaspira? Please, allow me to give you more. I would relish the chance.”
Shaspira folds her hands before her. “Very well… elf. You’ll be given what you need. But I will not hesitate to skin you alive if you try anything that I would not approve of. I trust you understand this.”
Sinestra: “Of course. I believe this is the beginning of a mutually beneficial partnership. Come me pets.”
She gestures to the orcs around her, and she exits, laughing.
Shaspira: “We… will have to watch that one. Carefully.”
Arthak: “I have heard that tone of voice before. I cut its head off two days ago.”
Shaspira: “For the time being, we’ll see what else she can offer us. I daresay that an… individual such as her may have a great deal to offer. As much as she has danger to offer us. I must think further on this. You are dismissed. See to your people. Lay down your roots. They will have to be strong for the time to come.”
Before he goes, Arthak mentions his visions, and Shaspira comments that he may still be linked to Frostmourne in some way. It could be useful, and dangerous. She tells him to learn more if he can, but be careful.
Gul’dan meets Arthak as he leaves. He smiles at him, mentioning he heard of his prowess and he saw his actions. He said that Arthak had done well.
Gul’dan: “For removing a dangerous, dissonant source from our inner circle, perhaps there’s something I can do for you. I heard through sources that perhaps you sought control of a swath of land here, where our feet first graced this world. Speak and it shall be yours, my friend.”
Arthak: “You do not want the claim to it yourself?”
Gul’dan: “There are more ports to be had, my boy.”
Arthak: “True. Well. If you are willing to not contest my claim, then I would be grateful.”
Gul’dan: “Far from it. I would be thrilled to support your claim. And I will have my finest shipwrights assist you in crafting your flagship. The first of many things the two of us can accomplish on this world.”
Arthak nods. “Very well. My clan needs land and an opportunity to grow. I will not say no to aid.”
Gul’dan: “And you will have that support, my boy. Precisely what a talented and powerful young warrior requires to lead his clan to greatness in the conquest to come. I will have my people speak with yours. You will have a vessel fit for a chieftain. And a port fit for a warlord. Until next time, my friend.”
As the orcs spread across Quel’danas and Silvermoon, the Gatekeeper has been raised around the city and island. Circumstances allowed them to confirm that there are mages inside the city itself that are effectively empowering it. Eventually, the barrier will fall, but the more powerful mages that are slain, the quicker it will go.
The elves fighting inside the city itself had started to create a guerilla strike force that have made travel via sewers basically impossible. While there have not been pitched battles, the group themself is a pretty substantial issue. One of their leaders, known as the Blood Shrike, has been very effective at splitting up the orcs.
The Frostwolves and Warsong spread throughout Quel’danas, as does Shaspira and the fel-aligned elves.
Throughout the course of various situations, Sunstrider Isle--once a magical academy--had been cursed and is now haunted by arcane and undead abominations, which has drawn the attention of the Shadowmoon and Twilight Hammer clans.
Kroll and many others between the Broken Blade and Ati-kaso had fully crossed over.
There doesn’t seem to be any apparent changes to the Sunwell from what Sorak had done with the Evergrowth seed.
The Black Rock clan is everywhere, but a good portion of the northern mainland of the city had begun to come under their rule.
During the initial war, there were deaths, but some were a bit more interesting than others. The Bleeding Hollow clan is now lead by Jorin, as his father Kilrogg was killed in a glorious death. The Burning Blade had claimed territory in the center regions, but they are fighting with the Laughing Skulls for turf. The Dragonmaw is now lead by Morgar, and they have claimed a number of the dragonhawk roosts, which have been occupied by rylaks instead.
The Shattered Hand had claimed the slum regions formerly known as Skulker’s Row, or the Downleaf District. They were working to try and get through the Gatekeeper through the city walls without much success.
The Stormreavers and Blackrock have joint positions on the smaller harbors, but the Broken Blade control Sun’s Reach. Gul’dan has claimed the palace, renaming it Stormreaver Spire, which he has turned through a massive lightning tower he has been trying to use to break through the Gatekeeper.
The Thunderlord clan is now kind of broken. Fenris Wolfblood and his mate never reported to the Dark Portal when the rest of his people did. What’s left of his clan is now splintered in three, lead by his three living sons. They are now fighting over control in the residential districts.
Garrosh had formerly gone to speak with them, but there’s not a lot of information on them.
It won’t be long until the Thunderlords no longer exist, instead absorbed by larger clans.
Some groups of orcs are also outside the city, but there is no way to contact them.
Nyxxa had also disappeared at some point, supposedly having fled with Remnii.
Several weeks in, Nyxxa reappears. She makes her way through casually, but as she approaches the Dark Portal, a sword blocks her path. The Doomlord looks down at her. He was told to keep an eye out for her. He was told she betrayed the Legion, and the Horde.
Nyxxa crosses her arms.
Nyxxa: “I believe there has been a misunderstanding.”
Doomlord: “We will see about that. You will have to explain yourself to lady Shaspira. Good luck, satyr. I hope you enjoyed your time in the Twisting Nether. I can’t imagine you’ll be anywhere but there by the end of this.”
Nyxxa shrugs.
The doomlord taps his sword on the ground, and two felguards appear to take her to Shaspira. As she goes through, she observes that some of the elves have started to take on demonic features.
Then Nyxxa sees Velhari storming across the courtyard. She is flickering with rage, her hooves charring the ground she treads upon. She dragons Nyxxa straight up to her.
Velhari: “You. You have a great deal of explaining to do, satyr.”
Nyxxa: “I intend to.”
Velhari: “You had best start now.”
Nyxxa: “Before you arrived, I got on that, well, situation. I had been captured by them. The elves.”
Velhari: “Then why did you shove Remnii through the portal.”
Nyxxa: “I’m not implying you were going to, but provided something happened I would be on the other side to strike at a certain high priority target.”
Velhari: “A likely story. You’re hiding something, and I know you are.”
She half-drags Nyxxa on. “To lady Shaspira. She will sort your lies from truth.”
Shaspira is studying some scrolls as Nyxxa is thrown before her.
Shaspira looks over. “Oh. Welcome back. I was told from eyewitness accounts by my loyal servant that you recently… let us say, stumbled through a portal. With the assistance of Remnii. Yet you’re here now.”
Nyxxa: “If I can explain.”
Shaspira: “I would suggest you start. I dreadfully hate being confused, almost as much as I hate being lied to.”
Nyxxa: “I had gone to investigate the city from the shadows, and made the unfortunate mistake of getting caught. But fortunately by the same group as Jaina. I overheard her being mentioned, and I thought if demons were searching for her, I might as well find her. And they caught me. But… much to my fortune, Remnii found the group and vouched for me.”
Shaspira: “She vouched for you? And why is that.”
Nyxxa: “I had been traveling with the clan she was enslaved to. And well… you know what my kind is supposed to do. I won’t insult you by explaining it.”
Shaspira: “Yes. Deceive. Trick. Infiltrate. You did the same with Remnii. Understandable. She is dreadfully soft.”
Nyxxa: “Incredibly. I took advantage of that to make my way to the portal in case something happened, and once I made it through, and I found Jaina had as well, I took the opportunity to try and assassinate her. Regrettably I was caught, and given I was back in the Nether, you can assume what happened.”
Shaspira turns to Nyxxa. “Intriguing story. You won’t mind if I confirm it myself?”
As her gaze meets Nyxxa, she feels a pressure on her mind. As she does, Nyxxa feels fear. Shaspira takes a few steps forward as she scrutinizes Nyxxa.
Shaspira: “Curious weapons, those are” she comments, noting Nyxxa’s focus on her weapons and blindfold. “I’ve seen similar designs, though few of Darnassian make.”
Nyxxa: “I don’t remember a lot about them.”
Shaspira: “A shame. Truly a shame…. She’s telling the truth. She attempted to kill Jaina. Failed, but an admiral attempt all the same. And frankly I’m far too busy to deal with this right now. You may go do whatever it is you desire. Just don’t get in the way. I’ve dealt with your kind enough to know you have a great deal of tricks up your sleeves. I would hope you’d be wise enough not to try and pull any of those on your allies.”
Nyxxa: “It’s a gift the Legion gave us.”
Shaspira: “Smart words. Now both of you please, on your way. I don’t desire to have this conversation any longer. The last thing I want to see is Jaina alive in your memories.”
As Nyxxa leaves, Shaspira looks to Velhari, telling her not to waste her time like that again.
Nyxxa then goes to find Go’el. Go’el greets her and asks her where she had been. She said she literally died, and Go’el congratulates her on… getting better.
Go’el gives her a quick summary on things, and she fetches Kroll as well.
Nyxxa asks them who Broxigar Saurfang is. Go’el explains that 20-some years ago he returned from the Iron Marches, and he confronted Gul’dan, blaming him for the death of Draenor. He challenged Gul’dan to answer for his sins, and Broxigar was killed for his grandstanding. His name was one that should be mentioned with caution, though many people hold his name in high standing--including his brother Varok, or his son.
Nyxxa asks if he was dead then, and Go’el confirms.
Nyxxa sighs, then asks about his son. Go’el says she met him. It was Arthak. He was born shortly after Broxigar’s death, though his mother also didn’t survive. He asked Nyxxa how he found out about Brox.
Nyxxa said she couldn’t say. Not without putting Go’el in danger, and she doesn’t fully know herself.
Nyxxa: “If Broxigar is dead, actually, then I believe the fate of winning this war, this… real war… lies on the younger Saurfang surviving then. At any and all cost.”
Go’el: “Huh.”
Kroll: “Those words are uttered very often.”
Nyxxa: “Back when the portal was opened, the Dark Portal. Her. She. Mentioned the name of a woman named Jaina.”
Go’el: “I heard.”
Nyxxa: “And if she dies, then the war for the Legion will be won.”
Go’el: “Who is this Jaina?”
Nyxxa: “I actually met her. She’s a powerful sorceress, but has no idea of her importance.”
Go’el: “Huh. Were anyone else to tell me a story this tall, I don’t know if I could believe them.”
Nyxxa: “But from what I know, Broxigar’s importance hinges on this Jaina, which is why I suspect they are trying to wrap Arthak around their fingers. Were this an ideal world, I’d want to get him as far away from them as possible. But given what little I know about him, I don’t think he’d take that well.”
Go’el: “Arthak has a great heart beating in his young chest. I believe that orcs like him may guide us in a way I cannot put into words at the moment. You seem convinced of this, so I’ll take your word. I cannot begin to understand the machinations you demons can pry into. But I will ask one thing. A task that is simultaneously difficult and inline with your own goals. Both you and Kroll. Watch over Arthak. Spirits know I cannot be there all of the time. But if what you say is true, he could be key to a better tomorrow for our people.”
Kroll: “There are few others I would place our people’s future in the hands of.”
Nyxxa: “But, that involves him not making certain life changing decisions.”
Go’el: “And that’s why you should keep this information from him. Arthak never knew his parents. He’s grown up on legends of them, and they should remain legends for the time being.”
Nyxxa: “Understood.”
Go’el: “He must find his own path, and I have a feeling when he finishes walking it, he will look back and realize it was their path all along. But he won’t be alone, especially if I can count on the two of you. Neither of you have the responsibilities that I have. Watch him. And make sure he doesn’t make those certain life-altering decisions.”
Kroll: “There are imperfect allies. I never believed I would be siding with someone like you in such a grave task, but I trust you to handle what I cannot.”
Kroll holds out a hand, then realizes she is blind, and he starts to pull back, but Nyxxa takes it. Kroll is surprised and asks if she can see. She said that she can in some manner. She simply cites “demon magic.”
Kroll expresses that Nyxxa can handle the subterfuge that he cannot, and he hopes, in time, Arthak will listen to his words.
Go’el expresses he knows Nyxxa isn’t lying, otherwise the spiritual hounds he had conjured would have torn her to pieces.
Nyxxa: “You’re on my world now, and I will endeavor to guide you on it. And I promise I will try to stave my anger at recent events to the best of my ability.”
Kroll: “It’s all we can ask.”
Kroll hands over a voodoo token to Nyxxa. “I believe you wanted a demonstration in woodworking. Consider this something to reference.”
Nyxxa feels it over.
Kroll comments there’s a lot of wood on this planet, and Nyxxa agrees, but asks him to be careful on how much he harvests it. They don’t grow back quickly.
They go to part ways, but Go’el stops Kroll to thank him for everything he had done so far. He asks Kroll for his staff, and takes it back to his tent. He returns with it again, and it is now carved with the names of all clans across Draenor.
Go’el asks Kroll to remember where he came from, as ultimately, he is an orc without a clan, unbound by loyalties. It gives him the opportunity to fight on behalf of all orcs.
Go’el gives him the staff once more, and the writing seems to glow for a moment. It rattles, and spectral skulls appears for a moment before disappearing again. However, they weren’t all orcish. Some of them were of an unknown origin, but they were all tied to the same section of the staff. Mingled, in a way.
Curious, Kroll uses a spell, and he sees the image of the spectral skulls again. But it’s not a grim totem so much as a reminder. Not a trophy, but a memory.
