Da Mishun

Ahm on a Mishun, Joo See.
 * -by Akindi and Brule

Urgent Business
Akindi crouched beside the albino tiger, staring out from a thicket of rotten, greasy foliage at the four Scarlet Crusaders occupying the rise. Two monks scanned the horizons warily while the priestess chatted with a hunter.

"Choo know what, Claw? Ahm too durn noble fo' me own good," she whispered. "Diss mishun be trouble."

Claw growled a low response, staring at the hunter's pet scorpion ahead of them.

The day was grey, the air foul. The problem with the plaguelands, Akindi reflected, is that it's impossible to smell the undead coming. The whole damn place is rotten. The huntress was strategically located (not "hiding") in a small, smelly, rotten stand of bushes just below the rise. It wasn't the best strategic location she'd ever seen, but hunters are used to making do with what they have. She was plotting her attack on the group of scarlets ahead of her, but didn't fancy the odds.

"Hrrrmmmmk. I cood wait fer one or two of 'em to leave, Puss-puss… but…." she trailed off. But that would mean waiting in the bushes even longer. Already the oils from the diseased leaves coated her armour and hair. Claw was no better off, and growled again at the prospect of waiting. "A'ight, choo go dat way. Choo can have dah scorp, howsat fer a fair deal? Ahm too good to yah." Akindi knew that Claw hated scorpions - part of his jungle heritage - but her main concern was the poison. She wanted the scorpion far away from her. Claw, she could fix. Herself… "Get busy, mon."

Claw's tail abruptly stopped twitching. His ears lay flat against his head, which was low to the ground, pointing directly at his prey. Akindi watched as the giant cat faded into the foliage, losing the sharp contrast of white-on-brown. Her friend stalked off, circling towards the scorpid on barely sheathed claws - claws that were longer than the troll's own fingers.

Working fast, Akindi grabbed a trap from her pouch and shoved it under a few twigs and what looked like a half-eaten squirrel. Speaking softly, she read the rune engraved into the wrought iron, nodding to herself as she felt the sudden cold emanating from the dirt patch.

Backing up a few steps, she grabbed her old bow and nocked an arrow, staring at the priestess. Akindi concentrated. Sounds grew fainter, smells faded away - and the healer was there, chuckling at her friend, standing in front of Akindi close enough to touch, close enough to see there where the mageweave robes parted, the lacework pattern of veins that marked a heart...

Akindi held her breath. And released.

The arrow flashed through the air, piercing the human's skin like a needle through silk. As the humans shouted in alarm the priestess stagered backwards, falling to her knees, her robes awash with crimson blood, already losing consciousness. The monks spun to see where the arrow had come from as the hunter bent over his fallen comrade, screaming in Common. Akindi stood, smoothly nocking an arrow, and fired at the fist monk just as Claw roared onto the hill.

The giant white cat fell on the scorpion, tearing into its scaly hide, growling in defiance at the deadly stinger. His movements were swift and agile, avoiding the scorpion's clumsy pincers with ease. By the time the wrathful hunter had made it to his pet's side, the scorpid was dead, and Claw, barely touched, had turned to face his new enemy.

The two monks had charged towards the bushes. Akindi stood resolute, shooting until the last possible moment, delaying one of the monks with poisoned tipped arrows. The first monk, still untouched, crashed into the bushes, already swinging his staff - and froze, encased completely in magical ice.

Akindi bounded past the trapped monk and grabbed her twin daggers. Spinning easily around the wounded monk's swings she stepped in and swung twice - once across the arm, then down low, cutting the tendons at the back of his knee. The monk bellowed and fell to the side as she moved in quickly, wanting to finish him off before his friend was free. In the back of her mind she could feel Claw's hatred of the human hunter, feel his agony as the hunter's own blades bit into the cat's hide. Roaring, the troll stabbed at the monk, only to miss as he swivled around, kicking out her legs from his prone position. She twisted as she fell so she landed on top of him, her simian grace granting her the control she needed. The monk tried to fight her off, but her weight and strength, together with his wounds, meant it took only a few extra seconds to land the killing blow - but it was time she didn't have right now.

"DIE!" she ordered the man, finally stabbing her right dagger up through his jawbone, into his skull. Wrenching it free, she quickly looked to the hill where Claw was gradually losing ground - before pitching forward helplessly, her skull ringing, stunned by the swing of the freshly-thawed monk.

Akindi rolled, desperately trying to ward off the blows of the red-faced human, losing one of her knives as she scrambled to her feet. Desperately trying to buy enough time to shake of the blow, she threw her remaining dagger at his face. He ducked, sucesfully dodging it - as she had anticipated.

She kicked him in the face.

Akindi was a hunter. Hunters are natural runners. As the monk looked up, thousands of miles and years of traveling slammed into his face. He flew backwards off his feet, rolling as he hit the ground, clutching at his smashed nose. Akindi fell too, thrown off balance by the desperate kick. She shook her head and staggered to her feet, panting and shaking. The monk slowly got to his feet, his eyes suddenly vacant, his broken nose streaming blood, unheeded, down his face. He faced her and slowly, deliberately, adopted a formal martial arts pose.

Akindi scowled at the human, hating monks and their stupid trances. Having lost her twin blades, which she preferred for close quarter combat, she reached behind her - slowly, and deliberately, unconsciously apeing the monk's own style - and unsheathed her ancient battleaxe. The axe had been given to her father by the venerated Trollish weaponsmith, Alik'zand'ar. Her father had carried it proudly into every battle - including his last. He had died with the weapon in his hands, though - honourably, after slaying many enemies of the tribe - and the shamans said his spirit was in it, still.

"Faddah, guide mah hands so dat I can keel diss monk. He be in my way. Ahm on a mission."

The monks eyes narrowed at the Orcish speech. He turned his outstretched palm face up and, bending only the tips of his fingers, beckoned Akindi to him. She hissed in rage.

Claw was panting hard as Akindi and the monk squared off below. The hateful human was biting him with sharp knives and Claw could smell more of his own blood than the human's. He was worried for his mistress and could feel her wounds. Again he growled at the hunter, swiping viciously at his legs and belly.

"Choo gotta problem wit me, Choomba? Ahm gonna rip off yer legs an feed em to dah cat!" she roared, lunging at the monk.

The monk smoothly sidestepped, spinning into a backwards roundhouse, but Akindi's rage had been partially feigned. She quickly checked her attack and ducked under the kick, swinging at his standing leg. She scored, slicing halfway through the thick calf muscle. The monk bellowed and staggered back before lashing out with a tightly controlled combo that caught Akindi off guard. His punches landed squarely, once in the plexus, two to the face, a vicious hook to the side of her head - and her control vanished. The troll roared incoherently, adrenaline pumping, ancient survival instincts taking over. Her skin darkened in rage as a sudden speed and newfound strength rushed into her aching muscles. With renewed vigour she hacked at the monk, using no finesse, no tactics now other than trying to kill him with the force of her hatred. She screamed in berserker rage, and her cries echoed out through the mist.

As the knives stung him once again, Claw heard the battlesong ring out, roaring from his mistress below. An answering challenge sung out from his own throat as he felt the bloodlust run through him, carrying him away from pain and fear, narrowing his vision to a predatory circle focused on the human in front of him. Magic, too, was in the shout, and the human's eyes widened as Claw swelled in size, rising as he roared, until the hunter was staring at fangs as long as swords on a cat his equal in height.

The monk lay dead at her feet. Akindi was panting. Her axe was gripped in both hands, her eyes fixed straight ahead, her whole body quaking. She gave her head a shake to clear it, feeling her limbs become weak as the aftershock set in. No time to rest, she thought desperately and grabbed a healing potion Brule had made her. Spirits, let me find him in time.

Akindi downed the potion and grinned evilly as strength returned to her spent muscles and the bruises and cuts quickly mended. As her senses sharpened she felt Claw's pain more clearly and spun once more to the battle on the hill.

"To me, Claw! 'Ere, 'ere!" she called, and the cat peeled away from the battle, dashing down the hill to her side.

As he ran Akindi raised her hands and sent her spirit out to her pet. As she concentrated she felt his wounds begin to heal and close, his strength returning as hers had after the potion. As Claw reached her side she opened her eyes and reached for her bow - realizing too late that the hunter on the hill already had the same idea. Claw growled as an arrow hit him in the flank, and charged back up the hill. Akindi quickly nocked an arrow but couldn't get it off before a second shot hit her straight in the shoulder. She gasped in pain and barely managed to dodge the third arrow - then Claw was back on the hill and tearing at the hunter again. Akindi saw the human drop his bow and grinned a vicious, feral grin as she tore the arrow out of her left shoulder. She eyed the barb briefly, noting that the point had broken off and that she'd probably have to fish it out later. Shrugging, she tossed the missile aside and looked up to her friend. Claw was having a better time of it now that he had been healed, but she was in a hurry and couldn't let the cat play. She'd have to help finish off the human.

She raised her bow and sighted along it, releasing smoothly and rapidly, letting of a burst of shots. Many found their mark and the hunter soon fell to the barrage of arrows and the giant jungle cat. Claw finished off the human, ripping out his throat before sauntering proudly back to his mistress. Akindi, however, did not feel as confident. Her left arm was becoming heavier and hard to move - she had obviously been poisoned. She looked at Claw. The cat was acting - in true cat fashion - as though nothing in the world could perturb him… but he was also favouring his left foreleg where the hunter's arrow had pierced his hide. Akindi frowned and once again sent out her spirit in a healing embrace. She purged the strange poison from Claw's system and mended his wounds, wishing (not for the first time) that her little sister was here to do the same for her. Sitting on the hill, she gave a chunk of roasted boar to Claw, silently asking him to scout the area. Claw growled in pleasure and stalked off, once more blending in with the rotting vegetation around them. Akindi made herself comfortable on the hillside and took out some stout bandages. The healing potion had helped, but she had had a rough day. She sighed as she wrapped her wounds, her thoughts drifting back to her reason for being here.

Discovery
Two days earlier Akindi had received a letter from Brule, asking her to meet him at the Bulwark. He had been farming plaguebloom and had just finished his latest batch of Mongoose Elixir, which she had eagerly volunteered to try. Upon arriving, however, she had learned that he had never made it to the Bulwark, which immediately aroused her suspicions. Setting out without delay, she and Claw made their way to the small abandoned cottage Brule used when he was herb gathering in the Plaguelands. Sure enough, his tracks were all over the front half of the house. The back half had been blown away, apparently by a sudden fiery inferno. It hadn't taken much time to discover the cause: three charred bodies, bearing the remains of Scarlet Crusader tabards, were also on the scene.

"Oy Hondo, ahr ya on da rock?" she had asked into the enchanted meeting stone. All members of the guild carried one, in case of emergencies. She had found Brule's stone smashed to pieces half a mile from the cottage.

"What is it, little sister? Something seems to be troubling yew," the stone had replied in the Warchief's voice.

"Warchief, sumtin's happened tah Brule… Ahm tinkin dah Scahlatt Crusadahs took him away, mon. It be like 'e only got one spell off, too - I be worried for 'im."

The stone made low rumbling sounds for a moment as Hondo thought. "The Crusaders are a misguided lot - they seek only to rid the world of all undead, Scourge and Forsaken alike. I doubt they would ever kidnap a Forsaken, Akindi. Are you sure… it was them?"

Akindi frowned at the stone. "It wuz dem. And he ain't ded, if dat's whatchoo're tinkin. Listen, 'chief, he been jacked, sho nuff. Ahm a go find 'im."

"So be it, Akindi. Yew are responsible, then. Report back if yew find any sign of him."

"Shore ting," she had said, putting the stone away. Even though she knew that Brule had been taken away - apparently in a sack - by three humans and four horses, what the chief had said was true. Scarlet Crusaders didn't take prisoners - especially not undead ones. What were they up to?

She didn't have much time.

Brule
“You will tell us how to defeat her or this will continue,” he said. The balding, thin-faced human leaned over his captive, a wry smile coming to his lips. “I know this hurts. Even you, you stinking corpse.” With that he turned the wheel another quarter-turn, and the ropes tensed again. The table’s boards parted, and it grew longer, pulling with it the limbs of the victim. By this time, the captive’s shoulders and hips were clearly dislocated, and the ligaments in each joint were stretched to capacity.

“The Banshee Queen must be burned, she must perish, and we are aware that you know of her weaknesses. You will tell us.”

Brule had only once before known pain like this. The kind of searing pain that cannot be imagined, only felt. He looked at the boney human’s foul face and hatred boiled inside him. If only I could cast…

In a corner of the room three priests of the Scarlet Crusade were chanting spells of anti-magic and spells of silencing. They would not allow him to use magic.

“The only… weakness here is that of your… mind… She cannot be… beaten!”

With a dismissive grunt the Inquisitor turned the wheel another half-turn. The ligament in Brule’s right knee snapped clear from his exposed bone. The pain, being too much to bear, forced him into a black dream…

The room in the upper tower of the Capital City of Loarderon was cold and drafty, causing candles to sputter and cast moving shadows on the books and vials cluttering the central table. Euphydius Menethil stared down from his personal laboratory at a sight that troubled him deeply. An honour guard was marching through the main gate of the city. Bells were tolling. A mass of thousands of city dwellers cheered and sang. The king’s son, Euphyidus’ nephew, had returned.

“This isn’t right,” he sighed. “He’s back too soon…”

Euphydius had been pouring over tomes of materials for the last few months, and the room showed it. Piles of books and scrolls littered the small circular room. He had been charged by the king himself to study the plague that had been infecting villagers in the outlying townships while Arthas was gone. No one knew when the prince would be back, but an answer to the plague had to be found before then, and it had fallen on Euphydius to come up with something… anything…

“The plague is nothing like anything we’ve seen before,” he had told King Menethil. “It is unique in that it does not try to attack the functioning a specific organ or process but rather tries to consume the actual life-force of the individual. In effect, it attacks the soul first, then the corpse once the person is dead.”

“I don’t care what it does, brother, just find a way to stop it before my personal guard is a group of cadavers!”

And so the king’s chief advisor got to work. For weeks he reviewed the city’s volumes on ancient elemental salves and cures, forms of divine magic used by high elves in forgotten days, even dark incantations confiscated from cults of warlocks during the demon wars. Nothing worked. He had resolved to tell the king of his failure, when the bells began tolling.

Brule awoke in his cell, lying in a corner of the room. He was unable to move, his limbs being useless. He was naked, and it was dark. The room that he was in was more of a pit than anything else. Solid bedrock made up the floor and walls and the only entrance was nearly thirty feet above his head. If I had my runes I could open up a portal to the Undercity, or maybe Thunder Bluff… not that I could climb through it…  His Scarlet captors had of course stripped him of everything. He had never felt so helpless. ''I could destroy this entire installation, I could burn them all. But even my hottest fire can’t undo these stone walls. Even if it could, I can’t move.''

The hours passed, the only sounds that he could hear were the occasional footsteps of his jailers, far above, and the chattering of the rats that occupied his cell. Drawn by the smell of wounded and decaying flesh the occasional rat would get too curious, and begin sniffing at Brule’s badly beaten body. It would be immediately incinerated, leaving behind only the smell of scorched flesh wafting upwards towards the trapdoor. After a few hours, and many roasted rats, the smell became overpowering.

“I don’t know what you’re cooking down there, but maybe a little water would go well with your meal!” The heavy guard proceeded to pour a barrel of cold rain water down the hatch. It drenched Brule, and sent the remaining rats scurrying frantically. He will be the first to die…  Eventually Brule lapsed into an uneasy sleep, exhausted from the hours of torture he had endured.

The sacking of Loarderon took less than three days. Euphydius had been held up with a handful of soldiers in his tower until the very end. He had poured all of his energies into the elemental ward on the tower’s entrance. Nothing had gotten through. But now nothing else remained. He knew it was just a matter of time. Arthas himself would come.

The news of the regicide had spread just a little quicker than the waves of undead. Euphydius hadn’t had enough time to mount any kind of defence other than sheltering the few soldiers that were in the hallway and holding the ward. Now the rest of the city had fallen. The king was dead. And the screams and shouts from the battle below had been replaced by an eerie silence punctuated by the occasional sound of cultists chanting.

It didn’t take much for Arthas to break the spell that the old mage had put on the tower entrance. The ward fell, and the door fell, and the guards fell on their faces upon seeing their former prince. They were quickly slain.

“You will submit to me, uncle.”

“I may fall to you, yes, but I will never submit.”

“Burn, then, for I have a special fate reserved for you, old fool.”

Euphydius was the first to act. Raising his arms above his head he sent a freezing pulse outward towards Arthas. Everything in the room: furniture, the bodies of the guards, the books and scrolls, became encased in a magical ice. Arthas looked down to find his feet bound and frozen to the wooden floor. Euphydius then lowered his arms, slowly and deliberately, leaving a glowing sphere of mana around him. He picked up his staff, and readied for the coming fight.

“You can’t be serious… is that all you have?” Arthas chuckled mockingly at the now glowing mage and sheathed his sword. The ice at his feet seemed to offer little resistance and he casually stepped forward, shattering it. Slowly he walked up to Euphydius. “Strike me now.”

With all the might his old body could muster, the mage brought his Resurgence Rod crashing down on the shoulder his assailant. It split neatly in two. The staff, not the shoulder. “Pathetic”.

Arthas reached for Euphydius with both hands. The mage could feel his power draining as the fallen prince rested his hands on the mana shield. Horror filled his eyes as he realised that Arthas was not even trying to push through. The mages power failed, and the shield of bright energy that surrounded him solidified. Arthas had cast a spell. Not one meant to penetrate the mana shield, but to solidify it. Euphydius was now a prisoner. The sphere that was meant to protect him now contained him. Losing his balance, he fell forward, and the glass cage rolled a little.

“You won’t be able to break it, uncle. Though very soon you will want to try…”

Minutes later, an abomination arrived. Its hulking body barely fit through the shattered doorframe. With ease, it used two of its three arms to pick up the imprisoned mage, and bring him outside. The pyre had already been built. It was huge. Amongst the giant timbers lay the bodies of the defenders of Loarderon. A crowd of cultists and zombies had gathered. The glass sphere was placed on an iron support that had been built over the pyre. One by one, cultists advanced, and threw torches onto the oil soaked pile. Soon the flames were raging, all but completely surrounding the sphere that contained the last inhabitant of the ancient city.

Inside, Euphydius could start to feel the heat from the flames. The glass dampened it just enough not to burn him immediately. He began to cast frost spell after frost spell, but to no avail, he could not cool the surface of the sphere enough to make it tolerable. Eventually he ran out of magical energy, and began to cook. Outside, over the roar of the flames, he could hear Arthas speaking to the crowd, interrupted by rousing cheers. I’m being made into an example. The pain was incredible. The inside of the sphere so hot that he couldn’t breath, yet wouldn’t suffocate. His feet, the only part of him in direct contact with the sphere, were being burned so badly that they were stuck in place.

It took almost half an hour to kill him, and he remained agonizingly conscious until the very end.

They woke him in the morning. First, the three priests were lowered into the cell, already chanting their spells of silencing. Brule felt the magic drain from his being. He felt naked and alone, and he was. Then, the Inquisitor came down. This time, he didn’t bring his racking equipment with him. This time he brought what looked like a toolbox.

“Good morning, you smelly plague- ridden scum! I though this would be a good time to continue our little talk.”

“It will indeed be little, for I will say nothing. There is nothing to say. The Dark Lady has no weaknesses.”

“That may be,” said the human, “but you will talk anyways. Besides, I have some questions of a different nature for you.”

There was little need for him to be restrained. He lay on his back, still completely paralysed from the previous day’s injuries. Nonetheless, his legs were bound, and his arms bound above his head. The Inquisitor opened up his toolbox and took from it a thin rusty hook. Before he even asked a question he planted the hook in Brule’s slightly decomposed abdomen, and slowly pulled in a lateral motion. An incision was made, and Brule bellowed in pain.

“I WILL BURN YOU ALIVE, HUMAN!”

“Not likely. Tell me, why do you believe the Tauren god can cure your plague?”

The question startled Brule more than the pain did. His research on the shamanistic magic of the Earthmother had been a secret, shared only with the Warband itself. How does he know?!

“There is no cure to the plague, of course. And yet you seek it from a herd of talking cows… why?”

“Your brain isn’t developed enough to understand the answer.” That response didn’t please the Inquisitor, who plunged his gloved hand into the Undead’s exposed abdomen. Pain exploded from the wound.

“Your notes clearly indicate that you think they have the answer to your disgusting disease. On what do you found your research?”

''Of course! My logbook!'' “My internal organs… ceased to function… a long time ago, human... you cannot harm them more…”

“Oh really?” The Scarlet Crusader’s hand closed on what remained of a kidney, and he pulled. As had happened the day before, the agony was too much for Brule to bear, and reality faded into a blur of memory and darkness…

It was almost dream-like. A cloudy memory. One moment, the fire consumed him, the next moment, his charred remains lay piled in a heap of bodies, yet he could still see. Days passed, weeks even. Eventually he and many others like him were loaded on a rusty cart pulled by the few tortured souls who had survived the scourging of Loarderon, only to be enslaved and put to torment. The cart was pulled for many hours, it seemed, or it could have been days, or mere moments. Euphydius couldn’t tell. All was in a haze, and time flowed too slow, or too quickly, or perhaps not at all.

The dead were pilled in a grave near Brill, guarded by more of the Lich King’s minions. Then the giant pit, which must have contained over four hundred bodies, began to be filled in. Huge abominations dumped meatwagons full of dirt and filth in the grave, until slowly the sky faded from Euphydius’ view, replaced by the most total darkness and the most total silence he had ever known.

And so he lay, waiting. Not living, but existing. Aware of himself, but not caring, not minding his current purgatory. Just existing.

This is the nature of the Lich’s Plague. Awareness never quite leaves the victim. Life, fear, emotion, panic, worry, pain, all of it is replaced by a simpler state of being: being itself.

Years passed before he felt it stir in him. The fire that Arthas had burned him with, that special flame, exploded within him in a burst of pain. He heard a woman’s voice in his head.

“Awaken, Euphydius Menethil of Loarderon. I am Sylvanas, and I rename you Brule Flamewright of the Forsaken. You will burn the Scourge, and search for a cure to the Plague as you were once commanded to do. Now rise!”

His rebirth was slow and painful. His body now responded to him, but each movement was pained. He began by digging upwards. The soil was getting damper and damper, and was easier to push aside. Navigating between the many bodies was the difficult part, but eventually he broke through.

It was late afternoon, and raining. He felt different; the sight of the sky caused the fire within him to explode in searing pain. He was cooking again in Arthas’ glass cage. He saw a rain puddle out of the corner of his eye, and plunged into it, drinking it in, rolling around in it. Slowly, the agony subsided. The pain became tolerable. But it didn’t leave him. It would never leave him.

Brule’s dream was interrupted, and he awoke to the welcoming sound of a Trollish battle shout. He had heard it many times before, and he recognised its origin. It could only be Akindi… A slow smile came to his old lips as he heard the sounds of rushing footsteps above him. Soon he would have his revenge. Soon this place would burn.

Stealthy approach
Akindi frowned at her left arm, hanging uselessly at her side. It should have healed by now.

The troll had moved away from the battle site, anticipating that the noise would bring unwanted attention from the Crusaders… or from the local population. She and Claw had followed the kidnappers' tracks through the forest to the rise they now lay on, overlooking a small valley that had once been a prosperous farm. Now the fields were barren, empty even of regrowth for the humans kept the land clear for a hundred yards in all directions, making a stealthy approach much more difficult. The tracks continued down the hill, apparently heading for a large stone manor. Even now, after the plague and undead scourge had terrorized the land, the stout building stood proudly, only missing a few shingles after years of neglect. The Scarlet Crusade's banner flew proudly from the roof, snapping in the cool wind. Many windows glowed with a warm, inviting light, beckoning warriors to come in and rest after a hard day - and to take shelter from the growing darkness and the dangers it hid.

Akindi crouched in the shadows, glad that the sun was finally down and wouldn't silhouette her against the sky. Forgetting about the numbness in her arm and shoulder, she concentrated on the fields and buildings below. Most of the outbuildings were clearly uninhabited, abandoned by the humans. The Crusaders had not concerned themselves with the fields which now lay fallow, except to burn them down periodically and to claim a small garden for themselves. Dismissing the farmlands as irrelevant, the hunter focused her attention on the house. She looked at the stables, the size of the garden, and noted the worn earth and paths trodden into the soil. She smelled cooking fires, and meat. Probably fifty humans, she thought, as her stomach growled at her. Could be tricky.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and once again reached out with her hunter's spirit as her grandfather had taught her, trying to sense the familiar presence of a certain undead mage. Again, she failed. He must be hidden… or maybe just too far… she frowned at the manor below. She had to get closer.

Approaching the manor would be risky, however. Her battle with the humans earlier had not gone unnoticed, and even now search parties were riding out, scouting the lands. Only by moving slowly and constantly scanning her surroundings had she been able to get this close to the humans' base undetected. Leaving the forest and entering the valley would leave her out in the open where she could easily be spotted.

Grunting in irritation at her own limits the troll huntress sat back on her haunches and considered her situation. Her wounds had healed - the bandages coupled with her trollishly fast natural healing had taken care of them. As a result, though, she was ravenous. With her right hand she absently dug around in a pouch at her waist, pulling out a few sticks of raptor jerky. Cramming them into her mouth, she looked again at her left arm. She tried poking it, but could feel nothing.

''What evil spirits were on that arrow? Any other poison would have run its course by now… or killed me.'' The wound where the arrow had pierced her shoulder was healed now, but she could still feel a small piece of the arrowhead through her skin. She briefly considered digging it out with her knife, but she was out of enchanted bandages and it was too easy to catch something in these lands. They were named the Plaguelands after the Scourge started here but the name now had a double meaning - almost everything living here was riddled with disease, and few animals survived long. It was, in fact, the reason that Brule was the Broken Horn's main supplier of Plaguebloom: while other herbologists were afraid to spend time in the toxic forests, the undead mage was immune to almost all diseases and natural poisons. The plague of undeath was a jealous mistress: once it infected a corpse it tolerated no other sicknesses that would weaken its host. Or so Brule had told her.

Akindi hauled her pack over and sat it in front of her, untying it one-handed and rummaging around inside. It contained food, assorted tools, and many other useful items that her guildmates had given her. She pushed aside her almost-empty pouch of sharpening stones, felt around under her sac of leatherworking gear, and found, nestled in the bottom, protected by several layers of thick wool, her case of potions. Hauling it out of her pack she set it beside her and flicked open the latches. Inside the cedar box were several smaller compartments, also lined with thick cloth padding. Swallowing her jerky she grabbed a potion, deftly flicked off its cork, and tossed it down. Warmth and comfort flowed down her throat, suffusing her entire body as she sighed in relief. Slowly, she wiggled her fingers, than rotated her wrists, before stretching both arms out over her head. The powerful restorative potion was designed to cure any disease or poison but was extremely hard to make. Normally she would have preferred to wait for a friend - or her little sister - to heal her wounds rather than use a rare potion like this but tonight she didn't have time. She was on a mission, and she was alone.

Well, almost alone, she thought as Claw came and lay down beside her. Shaking out the last pins and needles from her arm, Akindi considered her small collection of potions and salves. Claw nosed the cedar, sniffing at the bottles in curiosity. Absently pushing his head out of the way, Akindi grabbed another vial before packing up the box and shoving it back to its place in her pack. Claw licked at her face and nuzzled up against her, scratching the back of his neck against her hard shoulder pads. She grinned affectionately, pausing in her strategizing long enough to be grateful for the noble cat she had at her side. She fished him out a stick of jerky.

"Ahm lucky ta have ya, yah great fuzzy kittan. Hur… choo weren' so beeg when I gotchoo tho..." she smiled, remembering the occasion. Kahrn's beaming face, Nibbles' protective pacing around his mate and their cubs… and later, Kahrn giving her the firstborn with pride and love - and a long-winded, slightly drunken speech about family bonds. It had all been very touching. Claw, named on his first year in honour of Kahrn's massive warbear Paw, had bonded quickly and completely with Akindi. He had taken on her characteristics of showboating and random acts of affection, and she had become eerily catlike in tense situations - or so her guildmates claimed. She felt no different, and was pretty sure they were exaggerating.

Akindi stood up and hoisted her pack, back to business. Standing on the edge of the forest, looking down into the dark valley below, she grinned and drank her second potion.

"H'okay, Claw," she whispered as she felt it take effect. "Sneaky kitty. Lezgo."

Rescue
Akindi grunted as she hauled herself up onto the roof of the manor. Panting softly she rolled up onto the slate tiles. She grinned a feral grin as Claw licked her face.

"No braggin'," she admonished him softly. Sitting up, she looked over the ledge, admiring the distance she had come. "It's hard ta climb when ya can't be seein yerself, mon."

She paused for a moment to cast an obscene gesture at one of the clueless sentries below then turned to look at the peak of the roof. Here eyes were wide in excitement and she could feel her heart beating hard after the invigorating climb. Silently she prowled on all fours up to the smoking chimney, and paused, her long ears twitching. Idle chatter from the kitchens below, the flag fluttering in the wind, the occasional whiney from a horse in the stables. Her tusks glinted in the moonlight as the invisibility spell faded.

"We be sooo sneaky, Claw," she whispered. "Now, lessee..."

Akindi closed her eyes and sent out her spirit. She almost whooped in glee as she immediately felt Brule's presence. She opened her eyes and started climbing across the roof, feeling her way to directly above him. She chocked off delighted laughter as she took out her axe - then paused, and thoughtfully moved five feet to the side.

"Ready, Claw? Me first!" She cried, suddenly standing up and smashing her axe into the tiles with all her strength. The enchanted blade didn't even chip as the clay tiles shattered and flew apart, sliding down the roof and clattering to the ground below. Human voices suddenly filled the air, confusion and fear betrayed by their tones. Akindi continued hacking at the roof, ripping off the tiles, tearing through the thin boards, chopping easily through a support beam. Within seconds the hole was large enough for her and Claw to fit through. Gripping her axe in one hand she gleefully jumped down into the room below…

And kept falling…

And landed with an indignant yelp on a floor thirty feet lower than it ought to have been.

The fall knocked the air out of her, and as she lay on her back trying to gasp she saw Claw's face silhouetted against the starry sky. With grace and dignity, the cat leapt down into the room, landing beside the pit instead of in it. He looked down into the pit and snorted.

Akindi finally coughed, and took in a great lungful of air. Grinning ruefully, she sat up and looked around only to cry out again as she saw Brule lying by the wall.

"Took you long enough," was all he said as she looked, horrified, at his broken form.

Akindi instantly looked away, her trollish sensibilities not wanting to offend him by seeing him in a moment of weakness. She quickly ripped a powerful healing potion from her belt pouch and offered it to him, her head turned away.

"Akindi," he said, his voice grating across the stones. "I cannot take it. Look. Look at what they have done to me!"

Hesitantly, fearful of the wrath in the mage's voice, she broke taboo and looked at Brule. It was true. His limbs had been nearly torn off, his arms laying uselessly on the floor. He looked like a broken toy that had been tossed into an alley to rot. Carefully, keeping her eyes averted from his, she shuffled over to his side and poured the healing potion into his toothless mouth.

She cringed visibly at the popping and snapping sounds as his joints snapped back into place, his bones mending, his jaw realigning. She looked hesitantly over to him as he sat up and held out a scarred hand.

"More!"

Quickly she handed him her last two healing potions. He grabbed them eagerly, his hands shaking as he poured them down his throat. Gravely, Akindi stood and offered him her hand. Brule took it, his cold, dry fingers now whole again, and she helped him up even as the healing potions worked their magic on the gaping wound in his stomach. Akindi undid her cloak and handed it to him. He nodded a curt thanks and quickly donned it, already looking eagerly upwards.

Claw, meanwhile, had found a way to be useful and was dragging over the long wooden ladder lying against the wall. The great cat tossed one end, pushing at it with a giant paw until it tipped over and clattered into the pit. The cat watched as the ladder's top disappeared below the floor only to reappear a few seconds later, firmly propped up against the side.

"Aftah you, fiery one," his mistresses' voice said. Claw sniffed the air, recognizing Brule's characteristic smell of burnt herbs and death, Akindi's smell of sweat, mojo and leather, and growled as the unfamiliar smell of humans became suddenly sharper. His ears pricked up at the voices and pounding footsteps in the hall. He turned as the door opened, already charging at the humans entering the room.

Akindi held the ladder carefully as Brule climbed. The mage scrambled up the ladder, a mad fire burning in his eyes. Akindi followed quickly, and carefully - she had seen this madness before, in wounded beasts and angered trolls. Brule was singing the song of death, as surely as any berserker ever had. She heard voices and Claw's angry growl as Brule clambered off of the ladder onto the floor. She lunged for the top and rolled onto the stones, yelling for Claw to come to her as the first fireblast left the mage's fingertips.

Akindi, laying on her back, clutching her axe in one hand, stared up as time seemed to slow down. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Claw bounding over to her, the stunned humans gaping in horror at the freed mage. The cleric in front was trying to chant a spell, the soldier in the back just turning to run - whether in fear, or to fetch others, she would never know. Above her towered the undead mage, Brule Flamewright, Eldest of the Broken Horn Tribe, Master of the Pyric Seals. His bloodied cloak rippled and snapped in the magical currents as an aura of fire glowed surrounded him, tongues of flame licking up from his outstretched hand. His lips parted, and Brule's own sinister deathsong filled the air.

"Burn."

Revenge
''Free. Free of the pit!'' Brule felt his power surge through him, his rage and humiliation fueling the flames around him. He stared at the humans in front of him, savouring their terror, glorifying in the beginnings of the bloody revenge he had anticipated for so long.

"Burn," he said. And they did. Three giant fires sprung up form the stones, engulfing the humans completely. Their shrieks of agony sang in his ears and he laughed, unheard, amid the sounds of dying warriors and crackling flesh. As the fires died down Brule ran forward into the hall, followed by his now-cautious rescuers. He stopped at the top of the staircase, rubbing his hands together in anticipation at the death he was about to inflict on these misbegotten ill-conceived maggot-eating dog-fathered sons of the Cursed Crusade. But first, business.

Brule turned to Akindi. "Find my things," he rasped. He was not fully healed, but well enough to move. And speak. "They are not far. I can sense the magic within them."

Akindi gave him an appraising look, then turned and padded off with Claw to search the nearby rooms. Brule turned and faced the stairway, and waited. His mind went back to the past days, caressing each horrifying memory, embracing each painful act, pulling his hatred and anger into him, allowing his soul to be consumed by the desire to burn everything to ashes, painfully, and slowly. His teeth were barred in a silent snarl as the mage stood alone at the top of the stairs, shaking with the barely checked power of his magic and rage.

"Ssst. 'Ere, Brule," Akindi said. He hadn't heard her return. Slowly, moving deliberately, he took back his gear, one piece at a time. With reverance, he donned the Magister Rank robes. With the patience of the dead, he carefully fastened each button, tied each knot. Humans had gathered on the landing below but were only staring uselessly, each too afraid to be the first to die. Claw prowled the top of the staircase, growling menacingly as Brule donned his cloak and jewels of power, took his rifled-through sack and his log book, and, finally, accepted his massive imbued solid mithril staff. Its spiked metal ring burst into golden flame as his hands closed around it. Apparently composed, he nodded to Akindi, who stepped back nervously. Then he turned his full attention to the humans below.

Akindi backed away, stopping only when her back hit the cold glass of a windowpane. Hissing at Claw to come over, she watched as Brule slowly enchanted himself, each magical protection and enhancement flickering around him until his aura shone in the dim torchlight. During the incantations he stared malevolently at the humans below, spitting out the words for the spells as though they were curses on the entire race. He was only distracted once during the casting, as his aura flickered blue. He seemed far away to Akindi just then, and his hand half lifted as if to touch the blue shell around him. As the undead mage finished his preparations for battle, the humans massed on the steps below. Finally, as he brought his hands together on his staff, a Captain joined the mob on the stairs. Shouting furiously, the Captain harangued the milling soldiers, pointing up at the waiting Brule with incredulity, as if to say "There's only one of him! What are you waiting for!"

Akindi watched, hidden in the shadows of a deep window sill. She could see, through the haze of magical energies that surrounded him, Brule's shoulders shaking in barely-contained rage.

And the humans charged.

With a heroic shout the men on the stairs brandished their swords high, following their brave Captain up the stone stairwell only to be met with a torrential gout of flame. Brule's outstretched hand issued forth a torrent of fire as though it was the jaw of a great red dragon. Flames leapt out, spread, played across the screaming humans, consuming them as they fell. Their clothes and armour ignited, their weapons glowed in radiant heat, and for an instant as the spell ceased Akindi saw them all frozen as statues, each silhouetted by his own blazing pyre before crumbling to a pile of ash and steel. The oak railings were set ablaze, the heavy tapestries on the walls smoking and even the stones of the staircase and walls seemed to glisten as though melting. As the roar of the spell faded Akindi realized she could hear Brule's incoherent shouts above the crackle of flames. He leapt down the steps, all pretenses of control forgotten, and charged down the stairs already hurling fireballs larger than a man's head. As he disappeared down the stairwell the shouts and screams of scared humans filled the air. Akindi stepped forward to follow but a huge gout of flame erupted from below, billowing up the stairwell and destroying the banister completely. The screams stopped.

Akindi paused and stared at the mess around here. The humans were simmering coals, the furniture destroyed, and the rocks near the bottom of the stairs were glowing red with heat. She and Claw exchanged a look.

"'E can take care of himself, eh?"

They strategically relocated themselves by means of a hastily-smashed window.

Aftermath
Akindi and Claw sat on a small patch of grass, chewing jerky and staring into the glowing valley below. The manor was a barely visible hulk, now half-seen through the flames. As they had fled the house they had heard a series of concussive blasts, each one punctuated by a new set of windows bursting open to emit great gouts of fire. By the time they reached the safety of the hills and turned back to watch, the house was spewing flames and smoke through every door, window, and freshly-blasted hole. After the manor was completely ablaze a lone, glowing figure could be seen circling the area, wandering in and out of the flames heedlessly, searching out the last hiding survivors. The barn was ignited next, and Akindi winced as she heard the screams of the horses from where she sat. The wagons followed, then the small plot of land that the humans had tended to. Everything was incinerated.

After a time, the glowing figure reappeared from the wreckage and walked out a ways from the manor. Akindi rose and started jogging down to meet him. As she descended the flickering auras faded and she once again had to use her hunter's keen senses to find the lone Forsaken in the dark.

She found him standing alone in the fields, his back to the inferno, staring quietly up at the crescent moon.

"Hoy, Brule. Ah… ahr ya hurt?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. They couldn't touch me," he said in a deadpan voice.

She was relieved to hear that the anger had finally left him. She gave him a toothy grin and carefully put a long arm around his boney shoulders. "Joo sure now how to wreak sum revenge, mon. Choo ready to go home?"

Brule tried to shrug her arm off but she stubbornly kept it on. "Leave me. I want to be alone for a while."

Akindi shook her head. "Oh no. In dese woods, death attracts more death. We'd best be goin' before we get et," she lied easily. She was not concerned in the slightest with their chances of survival - but Brule had a vacant look on his dead face, staring off into a different place, or time. He still had not met her eyes. Claw came up to him, sniffing at his robes, mirroring his mistress' concern. "Brule, choo be lookin like shit onna stick, I no be one tah lie to yah. Now, why dontchoo fiddle wit yer rocks an warp us on home tah Thundah Bluff, eh?" she asked, deliberately keeping a light tone.

He shivered slightly as the cold wind blew smells of burnt flesh and lumber towards them. He blinked slowly, and looked up at Akindi's beaming face. "Thunder Bluff?"

She rapped him affectionately on the head with her knuckles. "Don't be lazy an make me carry ya. Lezgo! Joo wan a cranky troll on yer hands?" she demanded.

His eyes focused now on hers as he pulled away, and she was relieved to see his usual enigmatic grin. "Oh, no. Save me from the scary troll," he said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "What are you going to do - be late at me again?"

"Oy! I was on time! Joo were late - I got to dah Bulwark way befoah choo did!"

"You were supposed to meet me three days ago. I was detained on mage business. You would think that a powerful hunter like you could have found me sooner," he sniffed. "Apparently not."

The barb, though thrown in jest, cut Akindi. She covered it quickly, adopting a martyred expression. "Oh, aftah all dat I gone dun fer you. I fight mah way heah, killin' half da humans in da plaguelands ta get to yer lazy ass, thoughtfully keepin a few left fer yerself ta play wit, den I get all shot and poisoned and poor Claw is almosed keeled, an here joo are, not even offerin' a lady troll a ride… You lazy ungrateful sorry escoose fer a dead man. See if I go an save yer worthless hide next time, if choo won't even gimme a portal fer mah trouble…" she stopped, listening to his dry rattle of a laugh.

"Oh gods, anything to shut you up." Brule took out a small quartz pebble engraved with a rune and spoke some short words of power. Akindi sighed as the glowing portal opened, showing the mystic caves of Thunder Bluff on the other side. "After you, oh tall and cranky one."

She grinned at him and put her arm around his shoulder again. "C'mon home, mon. Ketsuki will fix us up, an I'll make a nice batch of human gumbo, eh?"

They stepped through together.