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The atmosphere was eerie, yet relaxing. The soft sound of water falling echoed a misty dirge across the cavern. Even though it was only water, it seemed to glow as if lit from within. It was here that the communing with ancient ancestors and Spirits for guidance took place.

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Grek had heard stories of Oshu'Gun, the mountain of the orcish ancestors from their old world Draenor. Being born into this world, however, he had never gotten the chance to experience it. The old ways were fascinating to him as if he had opened his eyes to a bright and colorful world, and he was grateful that the orcs had returned to it. Today, however, he was not here to talk to his ancestors but for the teachings of shamanism from Beram Skychaser, an elder Tauren. They sat side by side.

"Air is a unique element, my student," the Tauren said. "Many unenlightened ones may think it impractical and useless to use as magic, but air as an ally is valuable indeed and is quite useful in combat."

"Yes, you taught me how to utilize its ability to emulate weapon strikes with great ruthlessness," Grek said. "The fury of wind blessed to your weapon can be a punishing attack indeed."

Beram nodded. "As you seem to have demonstrated and utilized to great effect, long ago. But you will not be improving on that ability today. Today I shall show you how to call upon the Spirit of Air to turn the most brutal, primal strikes into a dance of deadly beauty, of grace in combat unsurpassed."

Grek leaned forward excitedly.

"Elune watch over you, sister" Marine Starfall said, raising her hands into the air with a bright golden glow. The very same golden glow engulfed the female night elf hunter, when she spun around in a circle and bringing the heavy equiped orcish warrior to the ground with her polearm. A battle that most certainly seemed to be lost, was a success, thanks to the holy hands of Marine. With a smile, the elven hunter bowed before Marine, who bowed gracefully back to her.

Marine took a look around, seeing how the Goldshire invaders had been defeated. One of the few villagers of Goldshire came up to her and shook her hand. "Thank you, elf. We are in your debt" The farmer boy said, and with a smile Marine bowed before him. "I could not have done it by myself" She said, making a gesture towards the pack of adventures that had fought side by side and brought the horde invaders to the ground. She was for sure the most well trained of the adventurers, but even though, she was not the kind of adventurer that could manage a battle on her own. She was trained to aid, not to enter combat herself.

With a look of satisfaction in her face, she made a sharp whistle. A beautiful pure white frostsabre dashed to her location and lowered her body, making Marine capable of climbing up. "Thank you, Faith" She said, patting the cat on the head. "Let us venture to Stormwind. We are far from our homeland, but we are here to aid the alliance best way possible."

As she and her cat walked trough the gates of Stormwind, she held her head up high and a smile over her face. "First, we do our share in helping Stormwind and the humans, then we go back and aid Kalimdor the best way possible. Our way!"

She stopped her cat by General Marcus Jonathan and made a salute. "Marine Starfall, ready to serve!"

Grek's teacher closed his eyes, as if trying to concentrate.

"The fact remains that the grace inherent in all forms of air is not an easy thing to call upon, my student." he said in his low beastial voice. "It needs a link between the physical world and the spiritual realm to solidify its presence."

Grek thought about it, and from his light leather tunic drew forth a small intricately totem carved out of mountain ash. Unlike the spikes of Fire, the knobs of Earth or the curves of Water, the Totem of Air had wavy lengths carved into its side as to better accommodate the presence of Air.

Eiri had roused late that morning. She had been through an aggrivating night, returning late from Loch Modan. She was sent to aid some Dwarf comrades in bringing down the Dark iron's. She had no idea it would be so time consuming! After finally finishing, She was quite aggrivated to find a messenger at Ironforge approaching her, telling her she was intstructed not to take a Griffin, or hippogryph. The information she heald was to secure at the moment. She, of course, thought otherrwise due to the fact that half of Stormwind's militia had the same exact map.

That began her excrutiatingly long trip home. Her mare was tired from the ride up, and made return slow. The fact that hordes of ogres decided she would make excellent prey did not help either. As she approached Lakeshire, A guard , once again, told her the Blackrock hunters nearbye would be after her. throroughly exasperated she managed to ride through the swap of sorrows, and back around toward darkshire. At 0545, she finally made it to goldshire, Taking a room in the inn. She slept in for 3 hours, and awoke startled by some inexperienced rogues dueling outside. She rolled her eyes, and turned over sleepily before shooting up. She cursed under her breath and jumped out of bed.

She pulled the blacket with her, scrambling off the floor and toward the dressed in the corner. Brushing her teeth and pulling on her armor proved a difficult task for a warrior of even her rank. Finally, she was dressed, and had tied her hair back into a tight but messy bun. Her mare was downstairs, tied up and waiting. The chestnut colored horse whinnied at the sight of her, and nervously sidedtepped some young children. She fed the mare a carrot, grabbed the horses reins and jumped on, pressing her heels into the mares side. She bolted forward, toward the gates of Stormwind. she was supposed to meet some night elf here today, And she hoped she wasn't to late. She would surely be demoted to a corporal. Finally she reached the gates. She slowed to a walk and pulled back hard on the horse as a young girl named Donna ran past, chasing her brother who was toting a small doll. Eiri saw the hunter and smiled, sliding off her horse. She walked up briskly, bowing before the elegant looking night elf. Bits of hair fell in her face, and she quickly smiled and brushed them away. A bit of sweat hung above her brow and she panted slightly. The mare, Stormy, snorted at the large cat beside her, and pawed nervously. After Eiri patetd her gently she turned back to the night elf, and saluted.

" Eiri Dassin, at your service. "

She said smiling. She offered her hand to the Elf to shake.

"Excellent thinking, my student." Beram said, nodding. "A totem, being a medium to commune with the spirits will serve nicely to increase our chances of success. You know what to do now."

Grek nodded. "I do."
Having done similar things before, such as summoning the essence of fire to weave its spiritual presence about a physical medium to blast its wrath at his foe. This was air, though, and he didn't know what protocols to take. Air and Fire had entirely different disciplines.

He concentrated in his mind, hailing the Spirit of Air. Air answered his request to come, as if they were old friends. Ask, young Grek, and you shall recieve your answer.
Will you lend me your grace and purity when I need it, not only for myself but for the aid of allies as well? He asked.

As if to answer, the totem seemed to enlargen in size and waver as though Grek was looking at it through water. Immediately, he felt a great agility run through him. He imagined himself dextrous, nimble, and quick. Looking over at his teacher, Grek saw that the Tauren felt the same.

Air spoke again. I have agreed to lend you my grace, and my speed for you and those you would aid, young Grek. Honour me, and this gift shall always remain yours.

It was not customary for anyone visiting Thunder Bluff to ride mounts through, owing to the difficulty of trying to avoid crashing into one of the fair-sized Tauren, so Grek dismounted and led his wolf over to the tying posts. Visitors could always tell what manner of people were in Thunder Bluff simply by looking at the mounts tied up. Besides the huge docile Kodo that the Tauren rode and the few orcish riding wolves, there was a rather large riding raptor the color of fiery sunset, who stared at Grek as he tethered Kreskan up. Kreskan immediately went over and sniffed the raptor enthusiastically, and the raptor cocked its head curiously at his wolf.

So a troll was in the city. He rarely saw them in Thunder Bluff, and rarer still were the Forsaken and the Blood Elves here.

With a final glance at the mounts, Grek went off to his temporary quarters, where he had stored his battle armour and his beloved weapon. It was considered a show of power to wear the armour and to bear the weapon of a particularly worthy vanquished foe, to any orc. The Scarlet Champion Herod was as fearsome a quarry as he had ever faced, even with an assorted selection of allies to aid Grek. With their healer incapacitated and their warrior clinging to life by a bare thread, Grek had jumped to the fore and slain the Scarlet Champion. With what strength he had left, he had healed their courageous warrior back to health and dropped exhausted to the bloodstained floor.

His allies, after dispatching a crowd of Herod's pathetically weak students, had decided to reward Grek with Herod's mail legguards, battle-ax, helm, and mighty shoulderpad. Since then he had meticulously cared for his equipment, oiling it and even going so far as to wash it every once in a while. His ax had a dent in it, and the shoulderguard was bruised and the metallic teeth were fading; he picked those up to carry off to the local smith for repair.

"Sereck Dreadnaught at your command. It is an honor meeting you, my ladies and General Marcus" A man spoke, kneeling before General Marcus and the two females, holding a clenched fist against his chest. The voice echoed from a plate helmet that covered the entire face of the rather large human. The morning sun reflected against his helmet, which was, aside of the shield abd pauldrons, the only thing that was bright enough to reflect the sun. His head was entirely covered with plate, all but the eyes and the space inbetween the eyes.
The rest of his heavily equiped body was made out of black metal, from his neck all down to his shoes. It was absorbing any sign of light, and despite the daytime, he was black as the night from neck and down.
At his side, there was a small axe attached, which burned with a fiery blaze. At his back, a shield was tied up, blank steel and the size of a human chest. His armor was newly polished and his eyes had a look of passion. He loved the life of a warrior, and it was shown by only looking into his eyes. He bowed his head, maintining his hand on his chest, watching the two women and the general in front of him.

"Ah, Grek!" Jyn Stonehoof greeted him amiably as he approached. "Here's an old friend. How may I help you?"

The female Tauren was unequalled in her ability to mass produce weapons to no end and was a key supplier in arms during the push against the Burning Legion. She was master of the blacksmith hammer and knew how to smelt impurities out of any ore. Grek had come to her before for her services and she excelled.

"Zug-zug, Jyn," Grek greeted her in orcish and hefted the axe and shoulderpad onto her counter. "I need these in good condition 'fore I ride for Tanaris. How much are you charging?"

Jyn looked them over. "You have some dandies here. A great number of your people wouldn't really have cared over such minor deficiencies. But since you're rather caring of your gear for an orc and I know you, I'll give you a discount and I'll upgrade it a little. Fifty silver, eighty three copper."

Grek dug out the money and gave it to her. "When can I expect them back?"
Already jogging over to the forge and anvils near the lake, she called; "This afternoon! Kill some time for me!"

Grek shrugged his broad shoulders, snorted through his tusks, and started back to his quarters. He was still absentminded and staring up at the vividly blue sky when someone ran slap bang into him by accident.

Before Grek had a chance to say something, a delicate yet husky female voice grunted "Oops, sorry." The orc shaman had time to turn around to see the a very attractive, blue skinned troll disappear into a blacksmith. Evidently a skilled hunter, from the bow slung across her back, but her quiver was empty.

Having been brought up in captivity, he only had orcish and human measures as to measure beauty and the hunter was something both races would grudgingly admit to attraction with. Slightly taller than him, elegant flowing hair, rather curvy, apparently strong and tough, big red soft eyes -

"An orc gawking at a troll! What's next, a Tauren and a Blood Elf uniting in holy matrimony?"

Taoren slowly descended the valley that once hid his home. The sun, barely making it's way above of the mountains, lit the worn away path that Toaren and his surrogate father would take to the river. Toaren never carried and weapons or tools. He kept books tied to his side by a red and gold metal chain that had an eye of the sun as the end link. The very same sun outlined his right eye as a gold tattoo. Making it to the foot of the mountain, he reached a fork in the road. The farthest town would take days to reach on foot.

"He always told me to stay away from the village. Nothing but a bunch of drunks and fighters." He sighed but relentlessly turned and walked in it's direction. "Perhaps if I stick to the outskirts of town, I'll be able to avoid the drunks and bullies." By midday he reached the village and wandered near the markets asking the traders for a ride. None agreed, and those that did would not do it for free. By the end of the day, he found himself in front of the tavern on the advise of one of traders. Go in the tavern and ask for a Gili Fox. If he wont give you a ride, than no one will. "The very thing I promised to avoid is the one thing I need to get out. I hope your laughing for the both of us old man" he said to himself, "because this is as humorous as it will get." And without saying another word, he pulled the door back and stepped into the boisterous tavern.

Grek regarded the pretty troll closely. Normally a hunter didn't run out of arrows unless they were extremely distracted or negligent of their equipment. It was odd then, that her bow shone in a dull sheen; she obviously cared about her equipment, so why run out of arrows?

The orc smiled broadly at her accent. Grek was extremely easy to amuse, but also very easy to get on the wrong side of. Apparently she had taken the smile for benign, from the way her face lighted up. Having some free time, he decided to indulge her.

"Kura of the Thunderhorn Clan sells 'em," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the massive upright sequoia trunk, that had been hollowed out to serve as a spiral staircase. "She's up on the middle rise. You want an escort?"

Originally posted by AOR


Taoren slowly descended the valley that once hid his home. The sun, barely making it's way above of the mountains, lit the worn away path that Toaren and his surrogate father would take to the river. Toaren never carried and weapons or tools. He kept books tied to his side by a red and gold metal chain that had an eye of the sun as the end link. The very same sun outlined his right eye as a gold tattoo. Making it to the foot of the mountain, he reached a fork in the road. The farthest town would take days to reach on foot.

"He always told me to stay away from the village. Nothing but a bunch of drunks and fighters." He sighed but relentlessly turned and walked in it's direction. "Perhaps if I stick to the outskirts of town, I'll be able to avoid the drunks and bullies." By midday he reached the village and wandered near the markets asking the traders for a ride. None agreed, and those that did would not do it for free. By the end of the day, he found himself in front of the tavern on the advise of one of traders. Go in the tavern and ask for a Gili Fox. If he wont give you a ride, than no one will. "The very thing I promised to avoid is the one thing I need to get out. I hope your laughing for the both of us old man" he said to himself, "because this is as humorous as it will get." And without saying another word, he pulled the door back and stepped into the boisterous tavern.

Whether it was his large size, thunderous footsteps, or colorful attire the noise in the tavern ceased and all were still. Taoren was rather nervous. Never before had been the center of so much attention, so it was no surprise that he too stood still and quiet. "Oye!" the bartender cried, "either come in and shut the door, or leave and shut the door. Either way shut the door!" Taoren, pleased at the sudden outburst, shut the door and was relieved to find that everyone in the place returned to minding their own. He walked over to the bar and began, subtly, to search for this Gili Fox. He was a rouge and skinny. He hair was dark and would be found drinking alone. However no such person came to Taoren's attention.

"Can I get you anything, big guy?" Taoren, snapped away from his search, looked bewilderingly at the bar tender. "C-A-N I G-E-T Y-O-U ANY-THING T-O D-R-I-N-K?!"

"Uh yes," he replied coming back to his senses, "water will be nice."

"He listen bud, if ya want water, you can drink it in the back with the horses. so what can I get ya?" Taoren didn't know what to ask for. Never being able to go down to the town limited him on social manners and trends. "I'll have some lite ale."

"Ha! Ever been into a bar, bud? Wait, don't answer that, I'll be right back." Just as the bar tender disappeared a human voice called out from behind Taoren. "Hey, bartender wait! Damn it! Thanks bud!"

"I'm sorry, sir but..." however he stopped gazing at this little human. Certainly a rogue by his attire, small (smaller than he imagined), black hair, skinny but not too skinny and light blue eyes. Taoren didn't want to seem rude or cause alarm, but he knew this had to be Gili Fox. "My apologies, friend. I did not mean to scare off the man." Gili stared at him, hesitant to accept his apologies. However he relented and shrugged it off, "Don't worry about it. That guy is never still for more than two minutes. The names Gili Fox by the way, but you can call me Fox."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fox" Taoren replied. "Just Fox, no Mr." Gili quickly corrected, "and you?"

"The name is Taoren, and I need your help."

Marine smiled as she received the greeting. She grabbed the hand of the human and proudly introduced herself with a handshake.
"My name is Marine Starfall. It is an honor to be fighting at your side, Eiri" She said gently, shaking the hand of the human. She shook her head, straightening her long hair to get it out of her face. "I am a priestess of the goddess above and I will aid you in any way possible"
She then turned her head to the second human, as well a warrior. Despite the fact that both of them were humans, and both seemed to be warrior, they seemed different from each-other. Perhaps they trained in different kinds of art. By the look of it, the male seemed defensive, while the female seemed more the offensive kind.

She looked up into the morning skies, giving out a gentle sigh. She dreamt of her homelands, far too often. She had sworn alligance to the alliance, and by that their words were her commands. She dreamt of the day when she would be allowed to return to her beloved Kalimdor, where she was needed the most. The recent crash of the Draenei did not only increase her will to return, but brought up a new level of curiosity that she had not experienced before, ever.

The rather large blue form stumbled through the doors of Stormwind tavern. Being a regular in these parts, nobody really paid him any mind, except the bartender of course.
"'Lo, Lazin. Find a seat, Lauren'll be out in a moment." Lazin smiled, and sat down next to a hearty group of warriors. They were talking about the new recruitment offers, and how they were getting all of the inexperienced type. Just complaining, really.
A beautiful purple skinned Night Elf descended from the Tavern's second floor, holding a mug filled with an auburn colored ale. She sat down across from Lazin, smiling as she did so.
"Well, Lazin, what do you need this time?" Lauren asked him, and Lazin smiled.
"A mount. I plan on traveling, though to where I don't know."
"Well, you're big... I don't know what could support you... Unless we got a rather large horse..." Lazin chuckled and then shrugged.
"Really, I just came to say goodbye. It's been great to know you, Lauren. I hope to see you again someday." Lauren chuckled and leaned over, kissing Lazin on the cheek.
"You're a good man, Lazin. Make Stormwind proud." Lazin nodded firmly, and stood. He bowed deeply to Lauren, waved to the bartender, and left the Tavern. For good.

Originally posted by Kaldorei
Marine smiled as she received the greeting. She grabbed the hand of the human and proudly introduced herself with a handshake.
"My name is Marine Starfall. It is an honor to be fighting at your side, Eiri" She said gently, shaking the hand of the human. She shook her head, straightening her long hair to get it out of her face. "I am a priestess of the goddess above and I will aid you in any way possible"
She then turned her head to the second human, as well a warrior. Despite the fact that both of them were humans, and both seemed to be warrior, they seemed different from each-other. Perhaps they trained in different kinds of art. By the look of it, the male seemed defensive, while the female seemed more the offensive kind.

She looked up into the morning skies, giving out a gentle sigh. She dreamt of her homelands, far too often. She had sworn alligance to the alliance, and by that their words were her commands. She dreamt of the day when she would be allowed to return to her beloved Kalimdor, where she was needed the most. The recent crash of the Draenei did not only increase her will to return, but brought up a new level of curiosity that she had not experienced before, ever. Eiri smiled docily and closed her eyes, sighing as a gentle breeze passed through the gates of Stormwind, billowing her hair. In the distance, she could hear the bold ringing of the bells at the stromwind Cathedral. It was a beautiful day. The young warrior smiled as the night elf took her hand. With a firm, steady grip she shook it. Her words where comforting. It was well enough known that stormwind had , as of recently, been suffering deadly attacks from the scourge, not to mention the rumors about Onyxia herself sending guardians.

Often enough Eiri would awake to the loud bugle, summoning them as to find corpses on the street. Rolling her sapphire like eyes Eiri sighed. She often was granted the wonderful job of removing the bodies, bloodied and mutilated, to the cathedral for dressings, and finally to the grave yard. Recently her unti had been dispatched across the Arathi Highlands, and th patrol the borders of the Hinterlands. Had she , though, been sent to prefrom such a task? no. Of course not. she was left to , what the grand stormwind militia called, 'Man the Base'. And the reason she was 'Manning the Base' ? Simply because she was not a man.

An annoyed blush fluttered over Eiri's small nose , but she quickly shook it off, returnign the Elf's kind smile.

" It's an honor to have you. "

As her hand was released, she let her gaze fall on the male night, bowed behind her. His features where tough, demanding, impenetrable. Eiri gazed down, trying to eye his rank.

Grommash Hold of Orgrimmar was known for its mild chilliness, a brainchild of the Warchief. As the role of leader of the Horde, Thrall needed to maintain a wise, yet strong hold over his people and keep the ties between the orcs and their own allies. There was already dissension and traitors in the Horde, and assassins had targeted Thrall more than once. He needed to show that he was a strong leader, not a soft one. The purpose of making his Hold slightly more chilly was to make anyone who he recieved nervous. It would not to for his subjects to openly relax around their Warchief.
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He was always wearing his black plate armour as a reminder of the price paid by the mighty Doomhammer to free his people. The former Warchief had been stabbed through the back by a cowardly human knight seeking an easy kill. Before Doomhammer had died, he had bestowed upon a young Thrall the title of Warchief, given Thrall his legendary hammer and armour. There was nothing Thrall could do to fully repay this sacrifice by his mentor, but at least Orgrim would have liked naming the Horde's capital city after him.

"Warchief, report from Nazgrel. Messenger outside, awaiting your reception." Eitrigg said. The greying orc was a remnant of the old orc society from long ago, where orcs were a noble people on Draenor and knew better than any the old way of things. It was why Thrall had stormed an entire human settlement simply to rescue him.

"Very well, Eitrigg," Thrall said. "Send him in."

The messenger flicked his lightning-shaped nose ring reflectively and spoke quickly. Since Thrall was extremely large for an orc, he had to look up. "Warchief, Nazgrel reports from Thrallmar."

The Horde stronghold established in Hellfire Peninsula and the orcs had named it after their Warchief and savior.

"What news?" Thrall said.
"Nazgrel reports a successful assault upon the ramparts of Hellfire Citadel by a few of his warriors. They have slain Nazan, a lieutenant in charge. They found this slip of paper on his body. Our captain thought this bodes your immediate attention."