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[jaljanok-blog]

There'd been little for him to do save learn of this new way of being since he'd entered the portal and become an apprentice to a Frostwolf orc, learning of the ways the elements and spirits worked and flowed together in an ever twisting web.  He'd holed up in a small hut with a leatherworker and Cat, in the extensive cave system behind Tase's garrison, travelling to Wol'var when he heard the call that his teacher would have time for another session.

Those sessions had ceased when the siege began.

Not wishing to get underfoot being halfway between one discipline and another, the young scarred Shatterspear had spent time entertaining and keeping what few children were on base from being too nervous.  He put on dances, sang for them, played with them, while their mothers and fathers were either at the walls, or assisting in the upkeep of that which was needed to withstand such an assault.  It was the least he could do when concern clawed at his belly.

Jal'ja had been surprised to see the trolless swift marching in the direction of his hut as he sat on a stone outside it, idly stroking Cat between the ears of her broad head.  He'd barely caught a glimpse of the druid since he'd arrived, save for their initial meeting, but hadn't pressed for it.  He knew she had to have been busy, pressed into a position of command when she originally was to have only led a scouting force.

He picked his way off the stone, stretching out his limbs and swinging his head in her direction with shredded ears lifting to let her know she had his full attention should she need it.  The one crimson eye was steady, but his insides churned.  Things must have become desperate if she was turning to him, barely above one of the artisans of the holdfast in his combat prowess.  Cat, unconcerned about anything beyond her next meal, lounged on the obsidian ground at his feet.

Worn amber eyes stared up at him for a long moment, until he crouched slightly to be more on level with the shorter trolless, cocking his head to the side in silent question.  She looked...exhausted, older.  It was an alarming thing to see.

"I be needin' ya at da gate, usin' yer new talents ta shore it up wit stone dat ya can be callin' up wit da otha two I go' left.  I know ya ain' go' a real 'andle on dem yet, but..I go' so few I be needin' all dat I can be takin'."  Her voice was pitched low, but it rang with a kind of solemness he'd rarely heard from her.  "I puttin' ya in 'arms way doin' it.  Da gate coul' go at any momen' da way it be righ' now."

Jal'ja stared at the druid in silence for a long, pregnant moment, blinking the one eye of his slowly.  Then his lips curled up around his banded tusks in a small grin, giving his head a shake which ruffled the blue black crest of hair along his scalp.  "If I was tryin' ta stay outta 'arms way, I woulda continued ta bebesit yer 'ome in Silvahmoon."  The words were accompanied with a small chuckle.  "I'll be gettin' ta work now...Commandah."

[jaljanok-blog]

It was a rare thing to gain a moment of time besides sleeping or bathing to herself these days, and those moments the druid did find were treasured and guarded with ferocity.  She lay on her back upon the furs that covered the pallet she called a bed in the small private quarters above the war room in the great hall, Rohk, the kitten who was swiftly becoming a full grown house cat, curled upon her stomach.  Amber eyes were shut in blissful relaxation, the only sounds in the room her own breathing and the demonic fuzzball’s purring, though her mind whirled and spun.  Even in her time alone, she could not keep her mind off the job.

Need to step up production of the metal workers, there’s new weapons that need to be forged for the ones that were lost in the last campaign.  Need to ensure more hunting parties are sent out as the natives say this area will be covered in deeper snows come month’s end.  Need to step up drills to armed combat in heavy armor…

While the trolless went over the mental list in her head repeatedly to ensure she hadn’t missed anything, she idly fingered a new decoration upon her left tusk, stroking the band of platinum, topaz and emerald with soft passes of the pad of her fingertip.  Things were changing, moving swiftly and, in some cases, turning themselves on their heads for everything the druid had once thought.  Never had the thought come into her mind that her seemingly commitment phobic lover would go through the elven ritual of proposal and engagement.  She still wasn’t even quite sure of all the details it entailed, and was forced to pull aside one of the few elves that had joined her band to ask for further details after Cael had left. 

Rohk lifted his grey striped head from her stomach just before the knock on the door sounded.  Squeezing her eyes shut more tightly, the trolless tried to ignore it to enjoy just a few more moments of peace, but the person on the other side seemed insistent and sounded again the rapping upon the thick wood.  With an irritated rumble, her eyes opened and her mouth moved to speak:  “Wat?”

The heavy door swung inwards to reveal the lanky form of Ukambe, fiery hair kept in neat braids that dangled to his shoulders.  A similar look of irritation was upon his face as well, a scowl that curved around his thick tusks and crinkled his heavy brow.  He knew how little time she had to relax and recharge, and knew the importance of it.  “Dere be someone ‘ere ta see ya, Boss.  Say ya know dem from ‘ome.  I ‘ad ‘im checked ou’, far as I can be seein’ ‘e be safe.”  He gestured down the hallway from the door, out of her sight, to where padded footsteps sounded and a familiar figure appeared beside Ukambe.

A little shorter than the Darkspear male, and with a darker purple fur, the young troll male seemed as if he’d seen a thousand battles past his age with the scar tissue that marred his face and exposed parts of his body.  A shock of blue black hair covered his scalp in a large crest, dented only by the strap of the eye patch he was forced to wear.  A thick robe covered the rest of him, a small pouch at his side, so different from the skin covering leathers she was used to seeing him in.

"Jal’ja?"  Tase sat up from the bed, carefully depositing the cat to the bed, eyes widening.  "Yer supposed ta be in Silvahmoon, guardin’ mah ‘ome dere…"  The young Shatterspear started forward into the room, only to be stopped by a firm hand upon his shoulder.  Ukambe slowly shook his head and kept him within the doorway. 

Clearing his throat, Jal’ja shifted his weight from foot to foot a little anxiously, the single crimson eye dropping to the wooden floor.  “I know dat, bu’ dere be word be comin’ back ta Azeroth o’ everahting dat be goin’ on when able ta be.  I ‘ad ‘eard dat yer base was attacked an’ nearlah wiped ou’.  No use guardin’ a ‘ome if da owner ain’ comin’ back is it?”  He wrung ink stained fingers upon each other, swiftly glancing up to see the expression upon the druid’s face before looking back down.

Tase blinked a few times, slowly, her mouth open a little.  “….Jal’ja dat was at leas’ two weeks ago..”  He interrupted her, putting up a hand.

"I be knowin’, I came as soon as I coul’, bu’ dere was a malfunction wit da portal dey sen’ me throug’.  I was supposed ta come righ’ ta da main place dey be sendin’ any new recruits thro’ in Fros’fire.  I ended up in da middle o’ an ogre den instead.  Was almos’ suppah till some Frostwolves foun’ me."  Concern immediately lit the trolless’s face and she stood, frowning slightly and licking at the ring and the back of her left tusk.  There was something…different about the way Jal’ja was holding himself.   She made a small rolling motion, sensing there was more to this tale.

He grinned a little sheepishly as the older male looked on with bored disinterest, simply watching for any signs of threat to his Commander.  “Well, dey also be teachin’ me some tings…I..I jus’ started ta walk down da pat’ o’ bein’ a shaman Tase.  An’ cause I alreadah be ‘ere, I wanna finish mah trainin’, bu’…I wanna ‘elp where I can.  Can I be stayin’ ‘ere?”

Another mouth to feed, another body to guard….another warm body to throw to the wolves when needed.  Methodically she weighed the pros and cons swiftly.  Her gaze swept to Ukambe who gave the faintest of shrugs, offering no advice in this area to her.  She lightly caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth and spoke to the fiery haired male.  “Get ‘im a bed an’ a job.  An’ da bot’ o’ ya get outta mah room.  Ya givin’ me a headache.”

More changes, all so swiftly…  As the pair left, she allowed herself to fall back into a flop upon the furs again, staring at the ceiling.  Rohk took the opportunity to stroll back to his preferred sleeping position on her stomach and made himself warm, dead weight.  Well…at least some things didn’t change.

[jaljanok-blog]

Jal’ja spent the night after being tended to by the healer Daronys at the camp in Feralas, staring at the ceiling of the tent they’d placed him in, making patterns in the canvas that weren’t even there.  The search hadn’t been a complete waste of time, but they still hadn’t found who they were looking for.  His crimson eye traced the pattern again, avoiding looking down.

Down was where his armor lay in a pile on a low stool next to the cot.  The armor that was splattered with Grimtotem blood.  He retched each time he’d looked at it before, and needed to keep what little food he’d eaten since down.  Killing, even for a good cause, so completely turned his stomach now that the young male wondered if he was to become a liability in any future battles.  Though, he mused idly, throwing up on the enemy would be an interesting tactic.

Cat laid her large head on his stomach, golden eyes staring at the young male as he sighed.  He’d only come to attempt to find his friend, dead or alive.  The Shatterspear knew that combat could have been necessary but came anyways.  The longer the druid was gone, the less chance that he would find her alive.  

———————————————————————————————————————-

There was an opening to the sky here, due to the lack of trees in the immediate vicinity, and she lay upon her back, watching the twin moons do their nightly dance with the stars.  The heady scent of just being outside again, the grass bent beneath her body, had her calmed to a degree she couldn’t remember since before all of this had happened. 

She’d spoken with her brother, and he’d begged her to eat, the only one that noticed that their captivity had accelerated whatever was afflicting her.  She’d lost a couple more pounds, that was visible enough, and it was likely just the lack of quality food and her stubborn insistence to make sure everyone else had their fill first.  At least, she hoped that’s what it was.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and her breathing slowed.  After a night and a day of being awake, and the adrenaline rush of the battle, she wasn’t surprised when sleep swiftly claimed her, even in this environment.  Her last thought was a brief curiosity at what their captors would throw at the clever Ravens that had escaped their tiny bird cage for the open air aviary.

[jaljanok-blog]

He had spent the last few days coaching himself on patience, as his youth made him want to rush forward and simply do something.  But without a lead to go on, he had to wait, quietly listening to the others chatter through the tattooed link.  Time alternated between creeping and flying by while the Shadow Walker checked over his armor and weapons time and time again.

After the druidess hadn’t shown for her meeting with him in the tavern, he’d gone looking.  Distressed screeching had come from behind her apartment door, which he swiftly opened with a deft twist of two tiny metal pieces.  The young Shatterspear regretted the action almost immediately, as he was nearly taken down by an enraged hippogryph eager to get free of its confines.  It had been sheer luck that he’d brought his panther, Cat, with him, and the two beasts managed to cancel each other out.

Forcing Talon back in with Cat’s teeth and claws had been a task Jal’ja didn’t relish in the least.  Feathers were plucked out of the beast’s sides, missing in patches here and there.  The evidence of their tattered remains lay strewn about the apartment, mixed with wilted leaves and torn up sod.  There was no sign of the druidess anywhere within.

Panic filled him even as he tried to calm the hippogryph who looked as if he’d been trapped within for several days.  The young male knew the druidess well enough that she wouldn’t have willingly left her companion locked within, nor would she have missed their talk without some sort of message.  The loss of his family still stung, and Jal’ja had so few friends to begin with that even losing one was a terrible blow.

After opening the large windows to make sure the hippogryph had a means of entry and egress, the rogue had left, locking the door behind him to search for any information he could glean.  He didn’t know any members of Ravenwood truly, so still didn’t feel comfortable speaking up and asking.  Instead he’d sulked in the Shadows with Cat at their post in Silvermoon for days.  Listening, waiting.

Finally, the order had come to move out - that they had eventually found where the contract that they had been on had taken place.  Almost a week after it had gone by.  Fueled by irritation and anger at the length of time it had taken the group to track down this knowledge, the young male had gone with them.

And been disgusted by what he’d experienced.

Only a few of this rag tag group of what seemed to be left overs had brains in their heads to keep quiet and keep their eyes open.  They were outnumbered by idiots who thought trying to talk to an Ogre was a good idea and those that couldn’t stop running their mouths, stupidity flowing forth in a never ending stream.  He normally had a higher level of tolerance for their types, but not when a friend’s life was on the line.

In the end, they’d gained a log of some sort of activity and a general location of where their comrades might be being held:  Feralas.  He’d never been to the southern jungle himself, but there was a map in the pack he’d always carried just in case.  Being inexperienced with the world at large from his sheltered beginnings in Shatterspear Village did not make him unprepared.  At least, not after his first lessons outside of it had been learned in the harshest manner possible.

The scarred young troll set out with Cat as the others returned to their cozy beds.  Who better than a Shadow Walker blessed by Damballa himself to scout the ogre lairs?  Grim determination settled on his marred face, the time for patience was gone. 

The time for action was upon them.

[jaljanok-blog]

(OOC NOTE:  I apologize for the length for mobile users, I know the Read More doesn’t always work that well to make the posts shorter.

Also, this switches perspective between Tase and Jal’ja, the *** denotes a switch.)

Guilt was one of those things that could either eat away at your very essence, or could drive you to do things you would rather avoid.  In truth, it was guilt that drove the young Shatterspear out of hiatus and to the elven city of Silvermoon, the large panther he simply called Cat trailing at the male’s side as he kept to the edges of the streets, avoiding the faster paced travellers and busy bodies of the smaller framed race that predominantly lived within the golden walls.  Many things drove that guilt - turning down Mûr’s friend’s offer of becoming a blacksmith’s apprentice, completely disappearing from his friends in Orgrimmar without a word of goodbye and the reason for his return, not telling the person who’d first looked down upon him with concern and generosity in giving him a job that he was leaving for an unspecified amount of time.

Well, he was back now.

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[jaljanok-blog]

Excitement

Squirming with his legs splayed out in front of him, he huffed, blowing a strand of midnight black hair from his face as it fell in front of his eyes.  It didn’t work, however, instead getting caught around one of his lengthening tusks.  A deep chuckle sounded behind him, and a large hand came around to untangle the lock for him.  “Jal’ja be patient, I’m almost done.”

"But Voy,” he whined.  “I don’t see the need for having my hair done in braids.  No one’s ever complained before.”  The young Shatterspear beat his heels upon the wooden floor in agitation as his brother continued to twist and pull his hair into elaborate braids.  “Is it almost done?  Can we go?  I don’t want to miss the dancers!”  He felt a light pinch to his newly pierced ear and winced.

"You want to look good for your little sister’s welcoming to the tribe, don’t you, chaadi?  I’m almost done, then you need to go get into your best kilt."  Voy’aj’bah deftly twisted the last few strands of hair upon his younger brother’s head.  "There, get going."  He laughed as the five year old raced with all the energy and excitement of youth to get dressed, calling after the disappearing backside of his little brother.  "And don’t forget your pipe!  They’ll want you to play!"

Voy’aj’bah waited at the leather flap to the hut for his brother, smiling encouragement as the little male finally came rushing back to the door, his wooden pipe in hand and wearing a deep blue long kilt, adorned with stitched images of snakes in black thread.  Their mother had made it for Jal’ja’nok earlier that year, and purposefully made it a bit long, but even now it was riding a little high on the ankles.  The little male was growing like a weed.  Bright crimson eyes peered up at Voy’aj’bah as the over sized ears lowered in agitation.

"But Voy….I can stay at the back…where they can’t see me right?"  The poor little male was shy, no one could figure out the cause, and repeated attempts to cure it had only met with abysmal failure.  Jal’ja would always stay at the back of the dances, hiding behind his father or his brother, peering around their legs to watch the way the bodies writhed and twirled to the pounding drums and the reedy pipes.  But not tonight. 

Voy’aj’bah took his little brother’s unoccupied hand, squeezing it gently.  “No, chaadi, but I’ll be right behind you.”  He twirled his own wooden pipe in his fingers, smiling reassuringly down at Jal’ja.  “Don’t worry, you’re going to be great.  Just like we practiced, right?”

The little troll curled his small hand more tightly into his brother’s, ears twitching as he wavered between excitement and nerves.  He felt the tug as his older brother stepped forward, holding open the leather flap for both of them to exit.  The sounds of the drums, already started, reached his ears, his heart beating to match the swift tattoo the drummers were beating out.  Sucking in a breath, the five year old followed the tug of his brother’s hand out into the evening, determined to make his brother and his family proud.

To be continued….

[jaljanok-blog]

Unexpected Fatherhood

Jal’ja slipped along the edges of the Valleys in Orgrimmar, seeking the large stables in the one they called the Valley of Honor, avoiding the crowds of the various members of the Horde going about their daily business.  He had business of his own today, and wanted to be about it as quickly as possible.  He’d finally gotten a bit of work from an orc seeking an object stolen by some quillboar.  Unfortunately, the area the quillboar had holed up was in the Southern portion of the Barrens.  He’d need his panther to get there.

He hadn’t left the city in so long the thought briefly crossed his mind that the panther wouldn’t recognize him when he retrieved her from the care of the stable master.  A ghost of a smile crossed his scarred face, banishing the doubt.  The huge cat had quickly befriended him when he’d found her abandoned in Ashenvale, and always seemed happy to see him despite the times he left her in the better care of the stable master. 

He kept his head down as he walked the dusty edges of the streets, not even looking about for the attention catching shock of red hair as was his usual practice.  He didn’t want to get distracted.  The quicker he got this job done, the quicker he could refill the nearly empty coin pouch tucked into his armor. 

The crowd began to thin out as he mounted the ramp leading to the higher rise of the stables, the afternoon sun beating down on him and causing sweat to form under the leathers.  He did his best to ignore the heat, for taking off his armor wasn’t an option.  He never felt comfortable without it, unless he was holed up somewhere that he felt was safe from intruders. 

Finally, the stables loomed ahead of him, the biggest one in Orgrimmar.  The scents of multiple animals and their bedding hit his nose like a truck.  Orcs in simple cloth tunics and pants rushed about, taking care of the needs of the animals in their care.  The young male’s ears twitched a little, peering into the shaded curved structure for the actual Master.  It didn’t take him long to spot the massive, scarred orc who wore the expression of one who enjoyed his work.  Jal’ja sucked in a breath and strode forward.

"I need mah cat."  He stated plainly to the orc.  He was sure there would be no mistaking which cat he spoke of, in the time he’d spent in the city he’d seen almost none like her.  Black as the night sky with golden eyes and large enough to carry a male troll, these were unique qualities among the mounts of the Horde.

The orc’s happy expression immediately dropped and Jal’ja became nervous, hands slinking closer to the hilts of the daggers on his hips.  He took a moment and reexamined the orc’s face.  No, that wasn’t anger, that was disappointment, but at what?

"There’s a small problem with that."  The orc gestured for Jal’ja to follow, leading him to a stall towards the back of the stables, away from the massive wolves dozing in the afternoon heat, and the hissing raptors, peering over the edges of the stalls at each other.  Jal’ja stopped short peering into the stall, his ears quivering in shock.

There lay his cat, sprawled out on her side with her eyes mostly closed in the straw bedding.  She looked as healthy as ever, her coat glossy and her frame filled out from the state he’d originally found her in.  However, there was a small problem, as the orc had said.  No, make that four small problems.  Pressed against her belly were four suckling cubs, their fur as dark as her own and their little paws kneading against their mother’s belly.

 The orc patted Jal’ja on the shoulder, noting the dumbfounded expression on the young troll’s face.  “She went into heat a day after you dropped her off here, and unfortunately got loose for a little while.  By the time we got her back, it was too late.  I don’t even know where she found another cat, but I’m sorry for that, boy, and I won’t be charging you for the extra care we’ve been giving her.”

Jal’ja shrugged the large green hand on his shoulder, slowly making his way into the stall.  His cat lifted her large head and chuffed at him in a friendly greeting.  One of the little ones left off it’s feeding, curious at the newcomer, and ambled over as he slowly sat down, still in shock.  The cub sniffed at his hand, then squeaked at him in that tiny kitten voice.  He kept his eye on the mother as he slowly gathered the cub into his hands, bringing it up to his face to look inspect it.  The small cub batted at his tusks before he set the little one back down.  He had no idea what to do.

Well, shit.

[jaljanok-blog]

A Visit To Orgrimmar

Loping towards the city gates, his long legs keeping an easy stride, Jal’ja maneuvered through the crowds that seemed to flood Orgrimmar like a river once more.  He kept his eye pointed towards the ground, firmly wishing to interact with no one save the stable master that had kept his panther while he stepped into the city carved into the cliffs.  The heat of blood on his flushed face still made his ears tingle as well, and he wanted nothing more than to escape.

A soft growl bubbled up from his throat at a goblin that attempted to step in the newly adult male’s path, followed by a fierce grin as the goblin halted all attempts at selling him something that would simply blow up in his face later.  The remaining crimson eye followed the little green creature as it scurried away, then lifted.  He’d almost reached the gates, issuing a sigh of relief.

A brief exchange with the stable master allowed him back his panther, still saddled.  He rubbed the great cat affectionately under the chin before climbing onto it’s back, curling his legs up so his toes would be well clear of the ground.  A soft click of the tongue and the panther was bounding out the gates and into the baked red ground of Durotar.

The Shatterspear’s ears still burned as he rode, thinking over the events of the evening and causing constant shakes of his head.  He was furious at himself for allowing the female’s laughs to rile him up, especially in front of the elder Shatterspear woman.  His threats of retribution had been nothing more than a hot-headed reaction to be laughed at.

With a low groan, he slowed the massive feline beneath him and leaned forward, resting his chest and head against it’s neck and head respectively.  The rounded ears twitched backwards, a confused coughing growl more felt than heard as vibrations in his chest.  It had only gotten worse when the big male had shown up.

Had they both been standing, Jal’ja would have had to crane his neck back to see into the other troll’s eyes.  The thought had caused a swirl of emotions to bubble up, and he immediately retreated to the Shadows, only causing more laughter from the female.  This, in turn, pricked his pride, and he returned to issue more empty threats to the cackling female, making him look more and more like an idiot.

The panther stopped at the gates of Razor Hill, twisting its head this way and that to try to dislodge the troll that had draped himself over the cat like a cub trying to play.  It knew the routine by now, and was determined to get back to napping in the stables after a round of boar meat.  It huffed when it received no acknowledgement, and promptly laid down.  The move jostled the troll enough that he fell into the dirt, sprawled on his side with a baleful look at the cat, red dust covering his black and blue armor, and his dark purple skin.  The male spat, pushing himself up, and started growling at the panther as it moved into the small stronghold.  It cared little for the bemoaning male, seeking dinner and sleep.