Ragebound Souls

[Chells]

http://www.mithrilcircle.com/fiction/greymuck/images/Ch01-StranglethornDawn.jpg

“Joo got to be kiddin me!! I ain’t going no where with some bloody cow,” Greymuck hissed.

Sergeant Crunuk's face flushed in anger. “Shut it, troll. General says he go with you. So he go with you,” barked Crunuk. “I about had it with you crap, Muck. You better not cause me no problems.”

“Joo got plenty of problems already Pigface. Joo just too stupid ta see dem.”

Crunuk's hatred for the hunter was barely held in check on the best of days. As Greymuck knew it would, his insults pushed the orc over the edge.

“I KILL YOU, YOU SCUM!!!” Crunuk bellowed, launching himself around the fire pit.

Greymuck shifted his balance to one leg, preparing to sweep Crunik's feet from under him, hopefully toppling the orc into the fire. He never had a change to make his move. Both adversaries halted immediately as a powerful voice thundered from behind the troll.

“ENOUGH!” roared General Gormug. Greymuck had noticed someone had tromped into the tent at his back. Not wanting to take his eyes from the frothing Sergeant, he had not glanced over his shoulder to check who it was. Had someone tried to slip up on his blindside he would have worried about it. As a huge green fist wrenched him off the ground, by his throat no less, the scarred troll realized he had erred. An assassin was far less dangerous than a General. The massive orc let Greymuck slowly choke as he dealt with Crunuk first. “You weak Sergeant. You let this meat get you every time. If you can’t deal with Muck here, next time find one who can.”

“Yes General," the shamefaced orc replied. "I dismissed?”

“No. Just stand there and shut you up. Now as for you. What wrong Muck? You looking bluer than usual.”

The General’s arm was solid as a rock, holding the troll off the dirt floor. Greymuck knew that if he stretched he could get his long toes to the ground and ease grip on his neck, but that would just piss the big bastard off. Greymuck was always good at reading the wind. Better to choke a bit than have the General beat him to a bloody pulp.

“must be de altitude…… air bit thin up here…… sir” he wheezed.

The General guffawed and tossed the aside the troll. “One these days, Greymuck, you mouth get you gutted.”

“So joo say every time General," the troll croaked.

“Don’t push it." the officer rebuked, all trace of humor gone once more. "Crunuk gave you me orders. You got real reason for arguin' with them? I don’t count fact you just don’t like no-one as real reason either.”

“Dat I do General. How joo expect me ta sneak a message cross haf de land with a walking beef mountain on me tail.”

“Bet you be surprised Muck. This Tauren might able to sneak better then you. Now you gonna give me more crap or you gonna go and do what I say?”

"Knowin' joo, more crap still won't get joo ta see sense. Ookey but when he fall behind, I ain't gonna be a'waiting for him."

"Don't you worry. He keep up with you."

Greymuck was never very good at hiding his feelings and even Gormug flinched slightly from the waves of rage pouring off the tattered hunter. "Den joo might as well strap me ta de whippin' pole cause I ain't goin' no where with no cursed shaman."

"One day you realize Muck, not everyone around you is total idiot. You kill last shaman you travel with. You think I put you with another?"

The troll's animate brow rose for a moment before a grin twisted his mouth up behind his tusks. "Dis may prove ta be interestin'. First time for ev'rthin eh General? Ookey I go get de bull."

The glaring with unmasked hatred, Crunuk watched the troll depart. "What he mean by that?"

"Sergeant, Greymuck be pain in ass but cannier pain in ass you not gonna meet. He already figure out who I send north with him."

The orc chewed that over for a moment frustrated he could not see how the cursed hunter would know the tauren’s profession from that vague discussion. Giving up he asked the question he had long wanted answered. "So he smart but why you put with that dog? Everyone hate him. He bad for morale. He have no honor."

"Because one thing Greymuck better at than any in Horde I ever see. He survives. We cannot fail at this. To work I need meanest, subbornest wretch can get. The one who will not die."

"Fine General but when he get back, he die. Cause I kill him."

"That you choice Crunuk. But you make sure one thing if you do take him down. Cut his head off. If you don't, you best not sleep no more."



A few tents away a huge figure knelt on a woven rug. Most viewing him would think the Tauren was meditating but only one who knew his people well would notice the bestial cast of his features. Having shifted himself just enough to sharpen his senses Tohma Reddrum eavesdropped on the general with only a small touch of guilt. As much as he was loathed to spy on his allies, Tohma could tell there was much he was not being told about the mission he was to undertake. Orcs were not as easy to read as his own people. They were always so rash and volatile it was difficult to judge what was their normal passion and what was abnormal tension. Still Tohma could tell something was troubling the commanders. It was not just this enigmatic troll, Greymuck. He hoped that in the meeting to come his questions would be answered but the ancestor's wisdom told him such was not likely to be.

As for this hunter they were pairing him with, Tohma has his own reservations. "...Cut his head off..." kept running through his thoughts. What kind of brute did it take to make the mighty General Gormug nervous?

Then again what type of fiend would kill a holy shaman. As a druid the only ones Tohma truly felt akin with amongst the troll and orcs were the spiritual shamans. Unlike druids, they did not know the freedoms that come from shifting and physically becoming one with the natural world. Still the shamans had their own conduit to aspects of Earth Mother ythat even the druids could not surpass. Tohma always wondered what it would be like to hear the voice of the land and sky, to be able to reach out to the spirits of the ancestors and creatures of the wild. Though his gifts had marked him as druid, Tohma held a strong affection for those who walked the other hand of land's magic.

When Tohma was a small boy he had seen his grandfather die. The rocky cliff which the elder Hohamal Reddrum had been walking upon with his young grandson gave way. His grandfather hurled Tohma to safety before falling to his death. The youth had grown sick with grief and guilt, believing it was his fault his grandfather had been killed. It was the village shaman who called forth the spirit of Hohamal Reddrum. To this day Tohma still dreams of the night he spoke with his grandsire's spirit, how there was no blame only pride and love. Healed in mind and soul, thanks to arts of the shaman, the young man grew to become a powerful druid, but a few years away from day he would be awarded one of the great kodos to ride in service of the Earth Mother.



Tohma's musings were dispelled when a pair of footsteps stopped at the door of his tent.

"Heh Druid. Joo in dere?"

"Come in." replied Tohma hesitantly. With Greymuck's ominous reputation, Tohma was expecting something other a typical troll. Even so the tauren was by no means prepared for the lanky figure that stepped through the flap. Literally from head to toe Greymuck was covered in scars. Against the grey-blue skin, ash pale ridges formed webs on what flesh was visible along his arms and legs. His face was gouged from numerous encounters. One set, most likely claw marks, ran from forehead to chin, luckily spaced far enough apart to save both eyes. His neck was the worst. As hard as it was for Tohma to fathom, the grey scar patterns told the tale of not one but at least two different hangings as well a ragged stab wound. His nose must have been broken many times. Half of his left ear looked as though it had been bitten off.

Seeking something to stop him from gaping at the mangled visitor, Tohma hit upon a puzzling thought. The general had been right; somehow the troll had known he would be a druid?

"So are joo ready ta meet with de high mucky-mucks? Dey be awaiting for us."

"Of course. Let's go."

Smirking, the troll left the tent. Instead of heading straight to the general's tent, he detoured slightly towards a heavy iron cage. Usually these metal boxes where used to hold captured members of the Alliance. This one instead held the ugliest creature Tohma had ever seen. Not a wolf or coyote, but similar and incredibly savage. It snarled and lashed out at the bars holding it. Even though the cage was close to the center of the compound not one member of the Horde came within twenty feet of the cage. Greymuck on the other hand strode right up to it. Crouching down, he reached through the bars. The hyena snorted once as the troll scratched his neck then resumed growling at the orcs milling out of reach.

"Be few more minutes, boy. Joo be good."

The beast huffed once more and then lay down. "Sorry bout dat." Greymuck told Tohma. "If I dinna settle him down he mighta chewed his way out again." The tauren was about scoff at the joke when he saw how deeply the beast's jaws had scored the heavy metal bars. Whatever the Earth Mother had planned for him, She surely picked the most unusual of companions.

[Chells]

Hey All
This is my first attempt at writing a fan fiction. If I make any major faux-pas hopefully someone will point them out to me.
This is chapter 1 of 15. Usually when I write I just let the story carry me where it will. This time the whole concept hit me and so I know exactly where this is going to end up. Hopefully I can make getting there an enjoyable read.

Couple things I'd love input on.
First is the racial speech patterns. I like them for Greymuck (especially later on) but the beginning of the story is hard to read because of them. The story starts out very heavy with the orcs speaking broken English and Greymuck’s island drawl but it tapers off as we move on (I'm working of chapter 5 now but 2-4 need to be polished before posting). So what’s the verdict; switch to normal English, leave as is or just tone it down some?
Secondly, I embarrassed to say but I really cannot come up with a title for the story I like. Suggestions are more that welcome. Probably be better to get them one story progresses but I’ll take whatever ideas people have. There has got to something better than the dozens I’ve discarded.

Hope you enjoy
Chells

[Chells]

http://www.mithrilcircle.com/fiction/greymuck/images/ch02-duskwoodharvest.jpg

Greymuck hated these woods. He had never been truly comfortable in the deserts of Kalidor even though he had spent most of his adult life in the wastelands between Ogrimmar, Steamwheedle Port and the Shadowprey Village. They were too bright and dry. Jungles and the deep forests spoke to him more deeply. He could have come back home to tropical Vale anytime but there were too many painful memories tied to the lush jungle. Ashenvale might habe become a comfortable spot to abide but the he had not spent long there. He convinced himself the reason he left was due to the degenerate elves and ceaseless logging by the Horde. If he being was honest with himself he would have admitted he did not want to settle down anywhere. He had had a home once. One that could not be replaced.

The warped nagas along Zoram Strand were bad enough but they were a small corruption of the world compared to this place. This twisted land repelled him. While Duskwood was by no means the barren dry lands he had known across the ocean, he would have happily laid waste to it if he could. The land was sick. Cool shade became vile gloom here. The creatures of the wood had been corrupted, mutating them into monstrosities. Undeath seeped from every aspect of nature.

It figured that humans would choose to abide in this diseased forest.

"Never shoulda let dat orc talk me inta crossin' da ocean. Nothin' good ever comes to us here any more eh Aiya?”, mumbled the troll. The spotted cat at his side gave him a quizzical look. Greymuck glared back at the shifted tauren with such rancor the cheetah turned away quickly and sprinted further to the front. Greymuck scowled after him. The stupid cow had better learn soon to mind his own business.

Tohma loped ahead of Greymuck, keeping the troll between him and Zeabos. Greymuck alone would have made the tauren edgy. He was more vicious than any orc. His moods at best were hostile; usually they were murderous. The hunter hadn't threatened to kill hiim yet today but Tohma felt as though any error in dealing with the troll could very well land him into a fight for his life. Taurens interacted with one another far differently than their allies among the Horde. Tohma had often seen the other races bully and tussle, swearing violence upon each other. More often than not the orcs and trolls were just blustering, like young wolves in a pack. There was no such false posturing with Greymuck. If Tohma truly angered the scared tracker, which seemed far too easy to do, Greymuck would murder him without hesitation.

Even so the druid could have handled the tension between himself and the troll. The hyena was a nightmare incarnate. Twoe days ago the three of them left Grom'Gol. Tohma shifted into his cheetah form and set off in the lead. Seconds after the stockade vanished behind the trees, he was smashed to the ground. Searing pain ripped into his shoulders. Blood and saliva sprayed the trail as Zeabos tore a huge chuck of flesh from his back. A few more seconds and those jaws would have crushed his spine. Most hunters call off their partners with a command. Greymuck tackled his. The beast was clearly stronger and probably heavier but the troll wrestled the hyena to the ground, speaking in his jungle dialect the whole time. Zeabos laid not one claw on Greymuck in all the time it flailed and lunged to finish off the tauren. Eventually it settled down growling deeply but no longer seeking to resume its attack.

"Joo gonna live Bull?", was all the troll said.

"Earth Mother Preserve Me! What was that for?"

"He usually betta behaved. Zeabos know the difference between enemy an a nuisance. He was just makin' sure joo get left behind. Is my fault. I shoulda known he was gonna try someting. So you done? He took petty big hunk outta joo back. Joo head back ta Grom'Gol. I'm sure dey understand. Nobody likes ol' Greymuck an his mutt anaway."

"Rot on you, troll.", thundered the tauren's deep voice. "What you and your cur want don't matter. It was my Chief's wishes for me to go with you and there is nothing you or Zeabos can do to stop me." Tohma immediately felt stupid for blurting out such an inane response but the pain in his shoulder had swamped his reason. Greymuck on the other hand smiled.

"So joo do got some balls under dat kilt. Was beginnin' ta wonder what kinda milksop I been paired wit. Can joo heal joo wound or do joo need me ta bandage it up?"

Tohma grounded himself and felt a rush of life pour from the thick jungle. So dense was the vegetation and insects swarms he only needed the tiniest fraction from any one being. Still it took three drawings to close the wound. Even then he would need to keep applying rejuvenation to fully heal the bite.

"Joo better leech poisons as well druid. Mangy boy here got a mouth worse den a sewer.", Greymuck remarked chuckling. Tohma barely contained his ire. Druids understood the need to balance one's emotions more than any craft but this was almost too much. The troll was joking about Tohma's near crippling by his beast. Even so the tauren took his advice before reverting once more to his fleet feline form and bounding north alone.

"Well I can't say joo dinna try boy. Looks like da cow ain't such simp as we thought.

The past few days suited Greymuck just fine. Still angry about Zeabos, the druid spoke only when he had to. The hunter was more used to leading than following, but it was nice to let someone else break the trail for a change. It gave him time to think about the mission he had been given. On the surface it seemed a simple enough task. Deliver a message to Warlord Goretooth in the Badlands. Yet there were too many oddities to dismiss this as a simple communiqué run. The first red flag was the fact that Tohma and he were forbidden to take to the air. A wind rider could perform this task in a day instead of the weeks it would take the druid and he to cover the same distance. Another incongruity was that a message from a general to his warlord was being placed in the hands of two un-mounted grunts. Lastly Greymuck knew that Gormug only used him when he had some particularly dire task that needed to be performed. Springing ambushes, infiltrating enemy camps, poison supplies, assassinations, these were Greymuck’s bread and butter. Being a courier was clearly not. All this added up to one conclusion. Some enemy was looking for this packet. Someone with a lot of resources. Enough to watch the Wind Rider Masters and Airship sites and well as be able to tail mounted warriors. So what manner of missive warranted this degree of camouflage? More importantly, what manner of enemy could have spooked the Horde's high officers so?

A hundred feet in front of the troll, some of the same concerns spun through Tohma's head as he ran through the gloom-filled landscape of Duskwood. Between his thoughts and his attention on what might lurk in front of him, he did not notice the mottled form streak up to his flank. The deep growl came from so close behind his ear, Tohma whipped his head to the side only to face the slavering maw and fetid breath of the hyena. Thrown off balance, the druid's paw caught in the turf, sending him somersaulting tail over muzzle. His speed was such that he tumbled a half a dozen times and skidded along the forest floor for many yards more before finally halting. After shaking the dirt and torn grass from his ears and nose, Tohma realized the woods were filled with two voices hooting with laughter. Greymuck was doubled over, chortling madly. Zeabos wiggled with glee, yipping in such a way that it sounded as if the beast was laughing as well. More disturbingly, the hyena danced as though it might pounce any second for what it would surely consider play. Tohma had no doubt he would find "playing" with Zeabos far more painful than fun.

Returning to his true form forestalled that chilling occurrence. It gave him his voice as well. "Knock it off you two. This is Alliance lands." he rumbled. "You want a troop of them to come investigate what demons are cackling in their woods."

"Pahh, let dem come. Dat was de best laugh I had in a long time...... Whoever said kitties always land dey feet never did see joo flyin' ass over end. Dat was de most.... " started the troll before dissolving once more into peels mirth.

"I'm glad to amuse you so. Now can you keep it down and tell me why Zeabos was growling in my ear."

"Joo shoulda seen jooself... Oh stop joo scowlin' 'Dere ain't much garrisoned out we be needing to worry about... Joo gotta admit that was hysterical. Okay Okay. I sent joker here up to tell ya we be campin' up on dat ridge. Follow me oh clumsy one."

Tohma shook his head and tagged along after the snickering lunatic he was stuck with. The spot to which Greymuck lead him was a deep fold in the hills. "Nobody see us here. Why don't joo go bring down some of dem wolves out dere. I'll make us a bit o fire and cook em up when joo get back."

"Fair enough." replied the tauren strangely puzzled. This was side of the troll he had not seen before. Co-operation? Still, who was he to argue with the first civility had yet received. After drawing strength from the earth, a horned bear ambled away among the trees. Greymuck was right in that not much outside the town of Darkshire was any real threat. He brought down a three wolves in moments taking barely a scratch in the process. When he return to the campsite he found Greymuck had a small fire going. The troll took the carcasses from Tohma. In moments he had them skinned and butchered. The smell of seasoned meat soon filled the hollow. Greymuck shared out the food, taking far less that either the Tauren or Zaebos.

To Tohma's surprise the food was delicious. The succulent meal was so out of place coming from the vile-tempered troll, Tohma completely forgot his reservations. "This is excellent, Greymuck. The best meal I've eaten in weeks."

"Tanks. Dis is nuting. Wait till joo try my gumbo. Now dat will put some hair on joo chest..... well in joo case, way more hair."

Tohma couldn't help but chuckle. For the next hour he managed to keep to safe subjects. About leather working he found there was almost nothing the troll did not know. He showed Tohma how he had created his breastplate from the scales of the scorpids that lived in the desserts of Tanaris. The work was impeccably done.

"I have never seen a hunter without a mount wear mail before. Why is it that you are not a rider?"

"Too much hassle, mon. Raptors an me ain't never gotten along too well. I figure I keep doing jobs for dem orcs and deh let me have one of dem wolves someday. Now that be someting, wouldn't it? Crunuk'ed have fit seein' old Muck here on one dose saggy brutes."

"I think Sergeant Crunuk would have a fit over just about anything concerning you. Why does he hate you so?"

"Dat be tale for some other day. We be leavin' early tomorrow so joo best get some rest. I'll be back inna bit."

Tohma cursed himself as watched the hunter slip into the dark wood. He had been careful to avoid any topic that might set the troll off and then had gone and asked him about the Sergeant. Dumb. The druid shifted once more into his ursine form as it was the most comfortable body to sleep in. As he closed his eyes he realized that even with the slip about Crunuk, this evening had been the amiable the troll had ever been. Maybe he wasn't such a savage after all.



An anguished scream tore Tohma from his sleep. At first the druid thought it might be Greymuck but the voice even distorted by torment was clearly not his companion's. He tried to locate the direction from which the cries issued from but the hills rebounded them into a string of horrid echoes. Double shifting always made him a bit dizzy but he needed the sharper senses of his cat form and the ability to remain unseen while spying out the disturbance might be needed. By the time he reached level ground the shrieks had stopped but by then Tohma was pretty sure he had a fix on their place of origin. He was sure when he caught a glimpse of a fire winking through the trees not a dozen yards further away.

When Tohma reached the small clearing he was horrified by what he beheld. A human was nailed to a large tree so his feet could just touch the ground though for some reason the victim was holding his legs off the soil. A dozen arrows pierced the man's arms, shoulders and even hips. Each wound looked as though it had been cauterized to stop the human from bleeding to death. Many more arrows were driven through his clothing and armor, more than enough to bear his weight. Even what attire was not pierced by arrows was tattered. The man's leather armor had sliced open revealing cuts and burns across his stomach, chest and legs. The worst was the victim's face. One eye was gone, as was his nose. Tohma could clearly see the human's rear teeth clenching and unclenching in agony through the gapping hole where one cheek had been.

"What are you doing?!!" cried the druid in his Tauren form.

"Ahh mon. Joo just in time for de best part. He goona let dem legs drop any second."

"Stop this. This is heinous."

"Back off cow!” snarled the troll. “Joo do not wanna be gettin' in me way just now. I been wid-out sport for far longer than I care te be an joo ain't gonna ruin it now."

"But ..."

"SHhh. Here he goes." Tohma watched as the exhausted man's feet brushed the ground. As the victim's boots touched down a blast of fire erupted from the leaves. The human shrieked again as the column of flames engulfed his body while the troll cackled with insane mirth. "Fire Traps. Gotta love em, ehh mon?"

"Why....? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Dat is what I do, Tohma. I make dem suffer. I kill. It's what I good at." Greymuck swung his bow off his back and drew an arrow. "It's what I live for." With a wet thunk the arrow ripped through the man's thigh and deep into the tree. "I kill dwarves cause I tired of drinkin' da poisons dey dump into da streams and breathin da smoke dey fill da air with.

"I kill da gnomes for most of de same reasons but also cause de little freaks give me de creeps." Thock.

"I kill elves 'cause arrogance an stupidity are too dangerous a combination to let dem live." Thock.

"I kill undead cause "

"You cannot!!! They are our allies!!!"

"Bah! Joo cannot be dat dim. Joo really tink dey will still be our chums when we win dis war. Tink cow. We not dere friends. We just food once de Alliance be gone."

"So what about this one? What did the humans harm to deserve this?"

"EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" screamed the mad troll. Froth sprayed from his lips while the deeps scars that crisscorsed his face flared crimson. Tohma recoiled thinking the berserk hunter was about to turn on him as well. Instead the troll scooped an axe off the ground. He jumped forward in spinning move that ripped the open the human's abdomen. The sound the man's entrails made when they hit the ground caused Tohma to retch. Greymuck was too enraged to stop. He finished the spin by burying the axe blade in the man's skull.

The last stroke was a mercy blow though the tauren knew it sprang from madness not mercy. , Still, the sight of the human’s split head revulsed the druid completely. He fled the glade before having to witness any further atrocities. Back at the campsite he was at a loss. He could not bear to face the gore coated murder yet he knew he was honor bound to accompany him north. Tohma stared at the smoldering embers, waiting in dread. The night inched past and still Greymuck did not return. When his heart finally slowed, Tohma found he was exhausted. Horror had taken from him more strength than a dozen shifts would have. He was determined not to nod off. There was no telling how bad his dreams would be. Worse yet the insane troll was still skulking out there. Somewhere.

Tohma bolted upright. Daylight barely pierced the murk filled woods but when he was able to find the sun Tohma realized the day was nearly half done. He rose with a groan. Through he slept the equivalent of a full night, he felt anything but rested. Then he noticed the campsite. Greymuck's gear was gone. In a fog Tohma gathered up his belongings and shifted. He picked up Zeabos' scent almost immediately. Shadowing the north-east running road, the sickened druid set off after them.

[One Swordsman]

Too long didn't read.


^ thats a joke, very nice and well written, I especially like the dialect for the trolls, good job with that (im half jamaican so take it from me as being good lol).

[Chells]

I guess I wasn’t clear last time. I am looking for feedback here. Usually when my friends and I write we critique each others work, pull it apart, make suggestions and so make the whole finished product that much better. Unfortunately none of them play WoW.

I’ll post the next couple chapters here but if there is still little to no input provided by the readers I don’t see a reason to continue with the story on this forum. :undecided:

[Chells]

LOL. Thx One.
Would you know that as soon as you make a post bemoaning the lack of responces, you find you've gotten one in the time it took you to write the lament.

I hope too long not a problem though. Next one is longer than both of the first two combined. :worry:

[Tor varr]

Greymuck is insane, isn't he?

[Tor varr]

Alright, alright, I'll critique it. You aren't leaving me hanging.

First off, I really enjoy the level of mystery you have around everything, while at the same time maintaining a fantastic level of action. A person is left with numerous questions from this story. Because of this fact, I want you to finish it, because I want answers.

One complaint I do have is the number of exclamation marks you have after Greymuck's scream of "everything." I find that a person should not have more then three exclamation points. 30 is way too many.

I do enjoy the troll accent, but I do have a complaint about the orcs. Why would they be speaking broken english, and not Orcish? I just find that rather odd that the orcs would speak a foreign tongue and not their own.

My final remark is actually a few questions. Mostly, they are about Greymuck. I expect that things like why he killed a shaman, or all his scars, or how he knew that he would be working with Tohma will be answered later on.

I normally make a couple remarks on certain stories, unless they're really bad or really good. Your story is one of the best I've seen in a long time. A fantastic plot, the perfect anti-hero as its focus, and it looks like the person who wrote actually tried to use spell check. Some of the stories I've read, particularly when I first started up my account, had such abominable grammar and spelling errors I couldn't even read them. I usually don't make a big deal out of such things because it bothers me when the length of someones grammar critiques is greater then the story itself.

I hope this will convince you to a) continue writing the story, and b) read mine, and offer some critism. I swear, not one person has said anything about it, and it's driving me as insane as Greymuck.

[Chells]

Thanks Tor Varr. Input is what makes this worthwhile (otherwise would have left on my PC and not presented it to public :smiley: )

I had been reading Mr Teatime's. Hadn't finished yet so have not left him a post. I'll switch over at lunch today and check yours out and give you some feedback.

Responses to your questions and suggestions. Yeah multiple exclamation points have become a bad habit for me. Thx.

Broken English = Orcish, not exactly what I meant. I was describing the orcish speak patterns in game which is sort of broken english whereas the troll are Jamacian sounding. In the story the orcs would be Horde common.

Why he killed the shaman is coming soon. Scars too. How he knew he would be travelling with a druid was a matter of deduction. The point I was making was how fast Greymuck got there. For the reader its a bit of a cheat because the final fact doesn't show up until chapter 2 (Unmounted).

Thanks again. I should have chapter 3 cleaned up by the end of the week.

[Chells]

http://www.mithrilcircle.com/fiction/greymuck/images/Ch03-redridgerequiem.jpg

Part 1
Greymuck watched the humans mill around by the bridge. For the dozenth time he contemplated how much fun it would be to kill them all. The Gryphon Master would have to be avoided. Other than that Greymuck was pretty sure he could slay every other one of the wretched creatures in a single night. The trick was to get the priests first. Not that it wasn’t fun to kill the same human twice or even three times but it made wiping out a town a lot slower. This close to the scum’s capital city he doubted he would have time to get them all if any got away to call re-enforcements.

Unfortunately the genocide of Lakeshire could only be a pleasant dream. Greymuck was no bootlicker like Crunuk but he followed those orders he knew were important. The packet for Goretooth obviously was one of those commands that ranked high on the "don’t screw around" list. Besides if for some reason Lakeshire was more than he could tackle, he knew he shouldn’t stir up a hornet’s nest before the druid made it through.

Thinking about the tauren a few leagues behind him dropped Greymuck’s spirits again. “Damn de cow.”, he growled. Greymuck knew who he was and he was fine with what he had become. Remorseless, merciless; a perfect killer. Yet the druid kept making him feel ashamed somehow. It had to be the bull’s overwhelming naive sense of … what. Honor …maybe. Not the orc’s bogus honor codes. Those were just tools for obedience and self-gratification. No. The tauren actually cared. He was, of all things, decent. Why they had paired such a child to one like him defied logic. Even accounting for the inanities of the High Command, one did not yoke a sheep and a wolf together. It distracts the wolf.

Greymuck felt his anger building. He should have let Zaebos shred the big ox. If anyone had a reason to torment the men of Azeroth, it was he. No damn tree-hugging, fur-faced, milk-sop was going to make him change. Even as Greymuck seethed, the scarred troll knew he was full of dung. The stupid moose was getting to him. Greymuck turned away from the town. “Damn de cow.”

Miles away Tohma had also chosen to rest for a moment. He knew was far more tired than he should be. Despondency was slowing sapping his strength. He had reached the strange transitional region between the dry lands ahead and the warped forests of Duskwood. Here on the cusp of the Redridge Mountains the land was healthy. The grasses were bright and green. A gurgling river sparkled in the setting sunlight. The dispirited tauren drank in the vibrance but still his mind lay wrapped in a cocoon of dull misery. "How could I be tied to such a monster?" he asked himself again. That question had been running over and over through his mind since he had witnessed the troll's brutalization of the human. Tohma understood they were at war with these men and their allies. Battle was one thing. The gruesome torture Greymuck had inflicted was by far something else. Someone more self-absorbed than Tohma might not have gotten past the thought of why they were bound to such a fiend. The tauren on the other hand had seen there was more to Greymuck’s story than just his psychopathic rage. So every few minutes a second question tumbling across his mind, one which he knew he could never ask. "What could have made him hate them so?"

Deep within the earth, the great spirit of world felt the young druid’s pain. The Earth Mother had drawn him to stop in this place of natural beauty for She knew it would ease his heart, if only a fraction. In time the noble tauren would heal and She wished greatly She could lend speed to that time. To know Greymuck's tale would do much to help Tohma understand. With understanding would come acceptance for his harsh companion.
In many ways it was not Her tale to tell but to each broken thing there must come a time to mend. The druid would never be able to do so in time without Her. Slipping into Tohma's meditiations, here is the story She unfolded to Her young disciple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the teeming jungles of the Stranglethorn Vale exist the trolls of the Bloodscalp clan. Dwelling among the ruins north of Grom'Gol and west of Lake Nazferiti, they built their homes and lived their lives on the steep terraces of that region. Among them grew the youth who one day would become the hunter Greymuck. Even as a babe, the child then known as Jal'zua was somewhat different from his peers. Like his great-grandfather, Rukyshka, his skin was a dark dusky blue rather than the bright-sky shade of his tribemates. It was said that a number of his other ancestors also had been born with the deeper grey blue flesh. Each of them had become a powerful WitchDoctor. When Jal'zua was a child, the WitchDoctor of the clan was named Nezzliok. He was skilled but did not have the depths of power Rukyshka or any of his legendary forefathers had. He came to see the troll-kit as a threat, one who would someday usurp his place as the spiritual leader of the Bloodscalp trolls. At any opportunity he would ridicule Jal'zua, making him look weak or incompetent. He spread poison tales into the ears of Gan'zulah, the clan chief. His venom turned the other young unblooded trolls against the boy. Even his own parents began to spurn him, eventually evicting him from their hut. Soon Jal'zua was virtually an outsider to his own tribe.

The only exception was Kio'Aiya. She and Jal'zua had been born the same day. Her father was the leader of the clan's headhunters. Early on when Nezzliok first began his plot against the youth, Hari'vaku forbad his daughter to associate with the outcast, but Kio'Aiya had a way about her. Time and again she showed that Jal'zua was not what the WitchDoctor portrayed him as. He was strong and able. He was smarter than any of the unblooded. Hari'vaku finally saw she spoke truly. While he would not cross his tribe's mystic leader directly, he let his hunters know that Jal'zua was not to be treated unfairly. As the headhunters were the most powerful warriors in the tribe, the lesser bands were leery of tormenting the boy too thoroughly. So while Jal'zua was never welcome in any of their homes, at least he was not in danger of being slain by his clanmates.

Before Jal'zua had reached the age of adulthood he left the ruins of Zul’Kunda and stealthfully made his way up the river. For three weeks he avoided the crocolisks and the sharptoothed frenzies of the Vale, the coyotes of Westfall and the wolves of Duskwood until he reached the Elwynn Forest. There he stalked the gnolls that lurked in the southern fridge of the human lands. He watched the shaggy brutes fight with the pale humanoids and learned their strengths and weaknesses. Three days later he stood over his first kill. First he bound his wounds. One of these would be the first of many scars he would one day wear. The gnoll having been much stronger than the troll-kit had landed a punishing blow to Jal'zua upper arm just as the youth drove his knife into the creature's heart. He cut the head of gnoll from its body and wrapped it tightly in an oilskin. Once he was sure no blood traces would leak to attract the southern predators, he returned to the rivers and his people.

He was now a blooded member of the clan and so could join one of the bands and choose a wife. Nezzliok was outraged. No troll made that journey at such a young age and never in the tribe’s history had a kit done so alone. Unusually a band of scouts would lead a troop of youths into Westfall or Duskwood to make the kill of a humanoid or undead that would make them an adult. By separating Jal'zua from his parents, who would have forbidden such a foolhardy act, Nezzliok had actually increased the kit's stature rather than diminish it.

So great was Nezzliok ire that he decided once and for all to rid himself of the threat Jal’zua posed. The next day the WitchDoctor summoned the young troll to him. Standing on the edge of the highest terrace he asked to see the blade that earned the boy his trollhood. For so long Jal’zua had hungered for acceptance from the WitchDoctor that he pushed aside the suspicions he felt and drew the dagger for the mystic to see. No sooner had the hunting blade left its scabbard than Nezzliok cried out. “How dare joo challenge me, joo impudent whelp!” The trolls all turned to see Jal’zua banishing a bare blade against the WitchDoctor. Many of them felt that, given the youth’s heritage, such a challenge was due someday but all were appalled that a mere child dared to confront Nezzliok at such a foolishly young age. Nezzliok unleashed a torrent of black flames that hurled the boy off the wall. The WitchDoctor leapt down after him, fully expecting to find a charred corpse. To his horror not only was the boy still alive, his mage fire had barely scorched the wretched youth. That blast would have killed a full grown adult. Already the outcast had an instinctive level control over the voodoo magic. Nezzliok attacked relentlessly. He battered the young troll all across the ruin yet he was unable to crush the whelp’s heart.

In the end Gan'zulah called WitchDoctor off. Jal’zua was bleeding and in great pain but still the boy managed to stand before the chief. Gan'zulah finally accepted that there was more to the youth that he had ever given credit to. Regardlessly there were only two recourses open to him. Either Jal’zua would have to be put to death or banished. Any other day the choice would have been easy but after seeing Nezzliok unleash his greatest might and still fail to slay the troll Gan'zulah declared Jal’zua exiled. The young troll said nothing. He merely bowed his head and turned to gather the few belongings he had stashed in the hollow he had lived in for the past few years.

As he turned to leave he found himself face to face with Hari'vaku. “Would joo have asked for her?” the headhunter asked.

“Yah Hari'vaku, I would have. But not now. She deserves better dan dis.”

“Are joo calling my daughter weak, joo little runt!” the red-haired troll bellowed. “Joo thik any child o’ mine could not survive. Even paired to a wretched mongrel as jooself?”

Jal’zua, for the first time in his life, was truly dumbstruck. He knew Aiya was the strongest willed troll he had ever known but was her father really willing to thrust his child into the harsh life of a cast-out. He looked to his only friend as saw in her eyes that she too loved him as much as he always had loved her. Still he had little hope he could stay alive without the protection of his clan. He would rather die than see Aiya come to any harm.

Before he could speak, Hari'vaku whispered to him. “Do not cross karma, boy. Joo two were meant to be.” So the young troll masked his features. He turned back to Hari'vaku and spat out, “Fine if she can keep up she can be me wife.”

Hari'vaku flattened Jal’zua with one blow but it was only for show. The youth knew had the headhunter wanted to, he could have maimed him with that punch. “Kio. Joo goona go wit dis trash, joo best not let meh see joo face ever again. Go joo two. Joo not welcome in Zul’Kunda no more.”

Kio'Aiya’s only regret was not being able to hug her father for give her her life with Jal’zua. The two headed north. Jal’zua taught her to avoid the basilisks and crocs. Higher and higher into the mountains they climbed. Time and again the two were turned back from a slope they could not surmount. Living off parrot meat and snake eggs, they kept searching until finally they found a pass. On the high cliffs, woven into the very top of the jungle canopy, Jal’zua and Kio'Aiya built a home.

For the first time in his life the troll belonged somewhere. Aiya was his equal in all things. They learned to hunt together. They wove the rugs that made up the bed they shared and hung on the walls to keep out the chilly mountain air. The hut, anchored in the trees as much as the rocks, was built by them side by side.

This is not to say that neither had strengths the other did not possess. Merely that they meshed their skills so fully that together they were more than a match for the predators that stalked the Westfall plains on the other side of the their mountain. Someday they would be able to tackle the greater beasts that dwelled in the jungle below them, but that day was far off.

Kio’Aiya was a truly gifted in the ways of healing. This was good since at first Jal’zua rarely made a kill without getting himself fairly battered in the process. Her hands sealed his countless wounds and invariably her healings ended in passion. She saw no reason to stop touching her lover once his pains had eased.

Jal’zua on the other hand had a gift for reading his prey. His instincts were uncanny. He could sense when animals or men were close by. He could stalk even the sharp nosed coyotes without alerting them to his presence. In time he fashioned a bow for himself and found he could lure his prey into traps. His favorite trick was to find a near inaccessible perch and draw his opponents to himself with a steady stream of arrows. By the time they were too close for the young troll to use his bow anymore, they were so badly wounded the youth had little trouble finishing them off.

Before long the two outcasts be came three. Mer’Ja was born with her mother’s beauty and her father’s dusky skinned legacy of power. She was the joy that finally healed the wounds Jal’zua had suffered from his people’s rejection. He swore he would never treat her the way his kin had treated him. She would be loved and she would know always that she was wanted.

The brother that joined them shortly after was just as loved though the little monster did everything possible to test that bound. Queekek was sweet and caring child without an iota of common sense. He climbed out into the jungle canopy when he was just two years old. Jal’zua found him dropping leaves and watching the spiral down hundreds of feet to the earth below. The kit was perched on branches so thin his father could not even come within ten yards of babe. His favorite toy finally enticed the toddler back; though not before his mother suffer several near heart attacks. No crib could hold him. No barricade could prevent him from the fire pit or his parent’s weapons. No leash could keep him close. The only reason the little fiend lived (beside his parent’s inconceivable patience) was that kismet must have truly loved the kit as well. Queekek had the luck of the gods.

And so the four trolls were complete, hidden with each other at the top of the world. Were in not for a single act of kindness, Greymuck would never have existed and Jal’zua would still be the father who loved his family more than all the stars in the night sky.

When Queekek was six years old his father would often take the kit with him when he patrolled the cliff passes that lead down into Westfall. For more than a decade now no-one had figure out the tricks to reaching his sanctuary but once a week the father and son would look for signs that any humans or gnolls had tried. The western most edge of the peaks looked down on a small farm. It was barely more than a garden and small house tucked onto a ledge overlooking the ocean. They had no livestock but they seemed to live well enough. The male worked with metal while the female tended to the garden. Quite often though, the man would travel with his wares leaving the woman alone.

While there was no way to climb up from this point, Jal’zua often spied down on his only neighbors. Mostly for curiosity but in a strange way he had a soft spot for this other pair of loners. Besides he did owe them a small debt. Most of the plants grown in Aiya’s little vegetables patch came from seeds swiped from these humans, a few at a time over the years.

That one day the troll knew something was wrong long before he reached the edge. He ran to the precipice to see a pair of gnolls battering at the door of the farmhouse. There was no way to could get a shot at them from his vantage point. He yelled a Queekek to run home and tell his mother before leaping to a ledge below. Two more bounds and he was down. He stayed out of sight of the human and began to shoot. One of the brutes charged him but a gun shot through the window grazed its skull stunning it. In tandem Jal’zua and the woman reduced the gnoll to a bleeding corpse. The second creature had almost sundered the front door. It reached in through the break, trying to fish the bar off its staples. Its efforts yielded only a blast from the woman’s gun right to its nose. Jal’zua laughed and began to fill its shaggy back with arrows. So enraged was the creature that by the time it realized the troll was doing far more damage to it that the woman had, it was just about dead.

Jal’zua quickly realized he had best vanish. He dove behind the farm’s water tower, nearly skidding right off the edge of the cliff and into the ocean below. A final shot rang out and the gnoll dropped. The woman, who was called Daf’ni by her man, stepped out of the house.

“Hello?” she called. Jal’zua had no idea what it meant. He just hoped he could remain hidden. For a long time the female prowled around but as luck wound have it she never ventured more that a few yards from her home. She looked at his arrows and found the spot where he had jumped down from the cliff. When her eyes turned upward, Jal’zua’s heart sank. Eventually she returned inside and the troll sprinted for hills that would hide his departure.

He threw himself over the first rise grateful to be out of sight when he heard the sharp retort. A blast of pain and force slammed into his shoulder knocking him from his feet. He turned and saw the human woman he had just saved looking at him venomously as she reloaded her weapon. Jal’zua did not hesitate. He ran as fast as he could, sweat from the pain pouring off him along with the blood from his wound. He sprinted past an old mine entrance and skirted the edge of the human bandit town. He wanted to cover as much ground as he could before turning towards home. He was tempted to try and make the treacherous climb behind the gnoll encampments but one he worried that the brutes might pick up his blood trail. Also he doubted he could make it with just one arm. So he kept going until after he had passed the tower with its horrid undead patrols. There in the grassy strip by the river he finally began to ascend. Weak from blood loss he made it to the huge tree that marked the boundary between the jungle and the plains and realized he could go no further.

He awoke to find Aiya's warm touch leeching the pain from him. "Don't cho move Love. Joo be in baaad shape." His wife poured strength into his body while she told him of their search for him. "When Quee told me joo had gone jumped off dee cliff I almost dinna believe him. Stoopid joo be, Me Love. So I left him wit his sista an came a lookin' for joo. Got plenty worried when joo was not at any of the passes. Joo would be out here all night if not for Ja. She told me right where to find joo. Her juju be gettin' stronger everyday. When you not such a mess we gonna have to talk about findin' her a teacher."

"Not Nezzliok," He muttered still a bit shaky.

"Oh course not Nezzliok, dolt. But dat means we need to find us a tribe dat will take in a family of Bloodscalp exiles. Dat enough will be a chore. Now let's get joo home." Kio'Aiya helped Jal'zua up the first rough stretch and then merely held his hand in comfort the rest of the way to thier cottage in the clouds.

[Chells]

Part 2

Over the next several days, the two of them discussed the various tribes their people had become since the Quel'thalas Slaughter. They dismissed the Skullsplitters immediately. For too long had the that tribe been bitter enemies of the BloodScalps. If by some fluke they did not kill the troll family outright, it would mean someday Jal'zua would be called to fight Hari'vaku. He would never put his wife in a possition where she would have to watch her husband and father try to slay each other.

What they knew of the others, the Revantusk, Vilebranch, Frostmane, and Witherbark was not much in most cases. When the elves of Quel'thalas and the Arathi humans had defeated the Zul'Aman army they did not stop with simply driving off the trolls. They butcherd and burned each and every warrior, shattering a nation that spanned the land and scattering its people to become small fueding tribes. Any of these clans could give them refuge but could just as easily torture and slay them for battle mojo. And the list did not end there either. Across the great ocean more tribes were said to dwell as well, such as the Shatterspears and the Darkspears. Thankfully they did not need to consider them. Niether Jal'zua nor Kio'Aiya could imagine a safe way for them to cross the seas.

Jal'zua knew that he would soon have to try and reach the closest of these tribes but not yet. He was not ready to share his wife and children with the world below. These three people were the only things in his whole life that mattered. Not only would reaching any of these other tribes be dangerous, who knew how those distant kin would receive his family.

Slowly Jal'zua and Kio'Aiya began to close up their life on the mountain top. They began to gather stores and discard the accumulation of worn out or outgrown possessions. Jal'zua made all of them new boots while Aiya sewed cloaks and knapsacks. They both figured that before the next full moon they would be ready to leave.

Fate gave them only two more nights. No human or gnoll could have followed Jal'zua's trail but to the dwarven hunter that returned with farmer's husband, it was a simple enough task. He pointed out the hidden route that lead to the troll's peak to a band of the Westfall Militia. The attack came without warning. Jal'zua who was returning from gathering fruit from the jungle only managed to catch the barest glimpse of a black garbed human behind him before a blow knocked him senseless. Before he could recover he had taken a number of deep wounds from the dagger-wielding assassin. It wasn't until he caught sight of his home ablaze that the scale of the battle tipped into his favor. Never before had he felt the berserker rage for which his people were known. It flooded his body with unmatched strength and lent him a savagery the human was ill equipped to deal with. Jal'zua battered the human to the ground before literally ripping his throat out.

As he ran towards his family, he saw a robed man point a metal-shod staff at him. Suddenly he was engulfed in the bitterest of cold. He could not run. He could barely move. Still he dragged himself forward as the ice cut into his flesh.

Helpless to reach his family he watched them be cut down one after another. Queekek died first. His young son leapt out the window brandishing his mothers knife. A heavily mailed warrior cut the kit in half before the child had even reached the ground. Kio'Aiya tried to reach her beautiful boy but another dark clad human materialized behind her and began repeatedly ramming his dagger into her back. Mer'ja was managing to repel the magics of a red robed wizard and his small demonic familiar until another armored man caved her skull in with a two-handed mace. Queekek was obviously dead but both Aiya and Ja could be saved. The humans did not even give them a chance. The knife-wielder deliberately slit his wife's throat. The mailed human continue to crush Mer'Ja body until there was no hope for her.

Meanwhile the mage continued to rip Jal'zua apart with his spells. By the time the cold waned enough for him to run once more, he barely had the strength left to swing his weapon. As it was he did not even get a chance to strike at his foe. He was struck from behind by another spell caster, this time by the robed human's stave rather than her spells. The first mage followed suit, abandoning his enchantments to pummel the troll with his staff. As darkness swamped Jal'zua, the troll experienced a bitter joy. Even though it was in death, at least he would be with his family again soon.


He awoke in chains. He had been bound and thrown into the back of a wagon. His aching body jarred with each bump the cart made. By the time they stopped, Jal'zua could barely breath through the pain. He was pulled from the wagon and dumped into the mud at the feet of a band of Westfall soldiers. Even if he could have concentrated enough to listen, the babble of the humans would have meant nothing to the grieving troll.

"What should we do with this mess, Captain? It was turned in by some of the militia. Seems the vermin were trying to set up a base in the mountains south of Moonbrook."

"I don't know when the next work camp transport is due by so put him to work in the northern fields for now. If another one of the Harvesters goes rogue it can pounce on this wretch instead of one of the farmhands."

"What are we going to call it? It's just pile of blood and muck at this point."

"Hmm. Not a bad idea. Not the blood part obliviously. Makes the troublemaker's bold if you give ‘em a name with blood or something like that in it. Muck though I like. Muck. Look at his skin and hair. Call him Greymuck."

"Yes Sir"

"And do it some where else. I'm tired of looking at the cur."

For the next few days Jal'zua barely woke. The humans unbound him and tossed him into a stout shed. Sometime later a healer came by. As soon as Jal'zua felt his wife's gift he sat bolt up-right. Instead of his beautiful lover he saw only a pale skinned cleric laying his hands on him. It took three guards to subdue Jal'zua, preventing him from killing the priest. Needless to say no other clerical magic was offer to the captive. Eventually his trollish regeneration healed his physical wounds. They set him to work in the fields moving stones and turning the earth. Each day Jal'zua would throw himself into these mindless chores hoping to pass-out each night rather than dream of his family's death over and over again. Queekek thrashing with his innards sprawled across the red stained ground, the sound of Mer'Ja's bones snapping over and over, blood gushing from Aiya's mouth. He knew he had gone mad and the only way to end it was to work himself to death. The Jal'zua ceased to be and in his place he became a machine, named with the only word in the human tongue he understood, Greymuck.

His guards still remained wary around the troll but the grudgingly admitted that Greymuck was the best worker they had ever seen. Slowly he began to get rotated to other farms. He cleared the fields for the Saldean's in the spring, built fences for the Furlbrows as the days grew hotter. The battle for the farmlands was endless and chaotic. He'd be repairing a barn wall one week only have it belong to the bandits the next. As winter arrived, Sentinel Hill gained control of the Alexston Farmstead. Greymuck was sent quickly south to clear out the winter stores for transport. The Alliance had never managed to hold this plot of land for long. Greymuck loaded barrel after barrel until he could barley move. Too tired to think and more importantly too exhausted for memories, Greymuck wolfed down his sparse meal and collapsed into sleep.

Deep in the night, he awoke to a presence he knew better than his own face. Closing his eyes again he could feel Mer'Ja glide about him. She did not speak exactly but he could hear her questions about where he had been.

"So sorry baby," he whispered. "I tried to reach you." He felt his daughters touch. She did not blame him but she needed him. Nezzliok call was getting stronger everyday. She had almost lost Queekek to him for a third time yesterday. Greymuck realized his family was not truly gone. He had known but, in the face of his pain, he had not accepted what death means to his people. When a troll dies its spirit distills into a power. Some become aspects of nature like birds or the dawn, others embody concepts such as music or curses. WitchDoctors call and channel the spirits of past trolls to weave their magics. If Nezzliok ever found his family the evil old fiend would torture them mercilessly. For a moment Greymuck fell away and Jal'zua lived once more.

So used to the trolls docility his guards did not even bind the slave any more. Jal'zua turned to follow Mer'Ja's call but something in the troll snapped. Silently he grabbed a shovel and a pick from tools hanging on the wall. He lay the pick down at his feet and stepped over the first of the sleeping guards. With a one blow he drove the shovel through the human’s neck. The fountain of blood woke the other man but before he could react Greymuck had swept up the pick and swung. The spike drove straight through the guardsman's forehead. So much hatred powered the strike, the point of the pick was driven several inches into the wooden floor below.

Greymuck ran south and east trying to hold a course that would allow him to reach either one of the passes or the jungle beyond. The closer he came the more he could sense Mer’Ja. He could feel her twine herself into his being but not fully. She still held onto her mother and brother too. Greymuck had the gift and strength to hold his family’s spirits but not the skill to call them. He would have to get closer if he was going to save his loved ones. By noon the next day, the troll was staggering. He had not kept care of himself well at all. He was stronger from the frantic work he had performed but his endurance was gone. By dusk he had to stop. A few hours rest revived him enough to push on once more. By late morning he had another worry. He had seen horses coursing across the countryside. Not a single messenger or mounted adventurer passing through either. Over a dozen of the swift beasts we're being used to comb the land. In the jungles this would not have been a problem but here on the open fields Greymuck would be spotted any time now. His only hope was to get out of sight in a land without cover. The troll quickly scanned the terrain. It would do no good to hide himself where the giant buzzards or coyotes would give him away. Not a hundred yards away a dip in the earth showed no signs of any predators lurked nearby. He quickly threw himself into the sink and began to dig his way under the loose soil. Within ten minutes he was covered from head to toe in dirt and grasses. A horse may kill him by stomping on him but its rider would never see him.

When night fell he moved on. He had managed to nap in his covering of earth and so felt far stronger than he had the day before. As he ran through the darkness he could just begin to feel the spirits of his wife and son calling to him. The closer he came to the mountains the stronger their voices became. So intent was he on their presence that he did not hear the sound of hooves striking the ground behind him until they were almost upon him. Greymuck sprinted for the cliffs ahead, swerving at the last possible instance. The charger sped past him almost unhorsing its rider when it hit the steep slope. The human swore and jumped from the creatures back. Even unmounted Greymuck knew he stood little change against this veteran warrior. He was so close. His feet still recalled the routes across these foothills and so the troll was able to stay just ahead of his pursuer. He clawed his way upward until he reached the tree where Aiya had found him almost a year before. Before he could take hold of the outcropping of stone that lead home, the human grasped his ankle. Greymuck was torn off the face of the rise and crashed to the ground. A war-hammer smashed into his shoulder. He blacked out after the second blow but even as it struck the troll was smiling. The human was too late. Even in the darkness of insensibility he felt his family safely entwined within his soul.

Greymuck regained consciousness stapled to the wall of the stone tower of Sentinel Hill. As soon as he opened his eyes he was pelted with stones and refuse. He quickly shut them again to prevent his sight from being damaged. This did nothing to protect the rest of his body. The rotting vegetables weren't so bad. For one who had spent most of his life within the jungle, decaying vegitation was nothing new. The hurled rocks, on the other hand, were agonizing, especially since he could do nothing to anticipate or avoid them. He sneaked a quick peek at his tormentors. The human spanned all ages and genders. Men and women, boys and girls all screamed curses at him while battering him with missiles. When the boys started dashing in to lash at him with sticks, the guardsmen began to push the crowds back. A rope was flung from the top of the tower. Even though he was no real danger to the crowd and guards at that point, the soldiers took no chances. The noose was passed over his head and drawn tight before the manacles where unlocked. By the time Greymuck could have lashed out, he was already being dragged up the wall. The troll smiled even as he suffocated. This hurt much less than Nezzliok fire and after being bound to his family, death held no fear for him.

The townsfolk watched the murder ascend the wall in great disappointment. It did not cry out or flail about. Instead its body scrapped up the wall in stoic repose. At the very end they were rewarded with a few kicks as the body's involuntary reflexes took over but by that point there was very little life left in the monster. Unsatisfied a small number hurled stones but by this point the body was so high few struck and none received a response from the dangling cannibal. Dejected the crowd dispersed. Many would return to watch the body be burned in the morning but they all felt cheated this night.

Deep in the night, the watch lost sight of the corpse to the darkness not that any of them truly cared to stare at the thing all night. When dawn began to lighten the sky they could not believe their eyes. Swinging in the morning breeze hung a frayed and completely empty rope.

[Chells]

Part 3

Greymuck was never sure if he truly died that night. Just as he never knew in the following years when Kio'Aiya's spirit healed him from a mortal wound. He opened his eyes and felt as though he had taken a deep breath and held it too long. He was dizzy but aware. He grasped the rope above him and lifted himself. The knot was too tight for him to loosen more than a fraction but it was enough for him to wheeze in some fresh air.

One of the reasons no troll would ever bind a humanoids arms in front of their body was that they forget not everyone has tusks. The same holds true in reverse for humans. They fail to see that orcs and trolls are never without a blade as long as they can reach the target with their mouths. Greymuck sheered through the rope above him in one stroke. He quickly found toeholds and loosened the noose enough to breathe easily. He'd discard it fully later. Scampering around and off the wall was a simple matter. Had it not been so overcast he would have worried about being spotted in the moonlight but luckily the night was pitch black. He knew they would look for him to the east and south. North just lay more human lands. His only choice was west and the sea. He made it to the dunes just as the clouds began to break up. Moonlight spilled across the sand, sparkling off scales of the murlocs patrolling the beach. Greymuck skulked up and down the sands keeping as far from them as he could but he could not find any gaps in their ranks. Fighting the fish-folk in the water would be utter stupidity. His only chance was to find a single creature and hope to kill it silently. Grasping a heavy stone he crept forward. Just as he was about to pounce, another murloc came bolting out of the water with a large crab hard on his heels. The fleeing fish-man crashed into his companion, followed by the crab who began to slash at them both with its long pincers. Greymuck shook his head briefly and slunk past unnoticed. As he slipped into the water, he mused how that was exactly the sort of bizarre coincidences his boy had been famous for. Chuckling his thanks to Queekek, he began to swim south.

It wasn't long before exhaustion over took him. He began sink into the water. He tried time and again to keep his head above the waves but ever few minutes he would find himself choking on the sea water. He knew he needed to swim for shore but he was no longer sure which way it was until he saw a light in the distance. He was much further out than he had expected to be. As long as he was careful he should be able to avoid being spotted by humans ahead. The settlement must be up on a cliff because the closer he got to it the farther from the surface of the water the light seemed to climb.

Finally the troll's fingers dug into the earth. He pulled himself from the sea only to find that he was on a small island dominated by a stone lighthouse. He dragged himself out of sight and lay trembling on the shore. Between his escape and journey to his family, the hanging, nearly dieing and the flight through the ocean, he would have thought he could not even stand. Just then a voice spoke from behind his head. "Well what have we here?" it said in a hollow but perfectly understandable tone. Greymuck whirled to his feet almost toppling back into the water. On shaky legs he turned to confront his discoverer. Greymuck was ready to die but was not so sure what to do with death itself. Standing before him was a ghost, a spectral human. "Sit down boy before you fall down. I intend you no harm. I have witnessed too much death in my time. Yours will bring me no joy. My only wish now is for peace."

"How is it joo speak my tongue?"

"I don't actually speak at all. The words of the dead are heard by the soul not the ears. Now before you join me in this state why don't you get that crate over there. It washed ashore the other day. Should have something you could eat in it."

Greymuck pried the top off the wooden box and found it did contain sustenance, bread and cheese. The specter led him to a barrel that had fresh water in it as well.

"So troll. What are you doing in these parts?"

"I be leavin' dem, dat's what."

"Just because I bear your people no malice does not mean I will not loose my patience with your impudence. What cause have I to deserve your ire?."

"Joo have no idea what YOUR kind did to me. Don't care dat joo be dead. Joo still be human."

"I am undead not dead. You would do well to make the distinction. For if you so hate men then you will need the allies that rule in Lordaeron."

"An dees other ghosts? Why would dey help a troll?"

"They have sworn alliance with the Horde and among that host are trolls as well as orcs and tauren. You would do well to seek them out if you truly wish for justice."

"Pah! I care not for justice. I want vengeance."

"How do they differ except one is based in hatred, the other in truth?"

"That is why I want revenge! I will not stop wit dose who killed me family. No even trade, life for life. Dey took everyting from me. I will see dem wiped from this world screaming in torment de whole way. When de last of their kind lies bleedin' at me feet, den I will be happy."

"I once walked the path you now travel. You will find no solace upon it. Turn back now, young troll, and maybe you will not end you days in regret as I do."

"Joo gave me food and drink. Joo offer me safe rest. So joo right. I owe you courtesy. But joo can keep joo advice. Dere once was a boy who might have considered what joo said. He knew nothing. He be dead. Only Greymuck lives now and I will bath in human blood until dere be no more." With that he found an old crate large enough to hide within, curled himself into a ball and slept.

It took many more days to reach the port city of Booty Bay. Once he reached the jungles he lashed together what logs he could drag to the shore. He guided his crude raft southward through the waves. The only danger this far out to sea were the great sharks but by luck none spotted his simple craft. In the dark hours of the night the troll stole aboard one of the ships. As his homeland vanished into the sea Greymuck renewed his vow of vengeance. One day he would be back. One day they would know the pain they had inflicted on his loved ones.

Twenty years had passed since that day and Greymuck's hatred had never cooled. It had matured and flourished. He learned to channel his malice, never letting it lead him into a suicidal frenzy. His death would not bring about the human extinction he so craved. He joined the Horde and gained allies. He became their assassin and saboteur. From them he took their training, honing himself into an ever deadlier weapon. In their desert lands he bound Zaebos to himself finding in the beast a savagery akin to his own. Every day he whispered the spirits who lived inside him..."Someday."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Earth Mother withdrew from the stunned druid. Finally the healing could begin. She felt the tauren's pain change from an internal ache to the greater hurt of one who knows another's anguish. She was pleased. For the first time in over twenty years She had found one who to might sooth that bright raging soul.

[Chells]

http://www.mithrilcircle.com/fiction/greymuck/images/Ch04-BurningStraits.jpg

Following Greymuck’s trail was simplicity in itself. With so few trolls this deep in Alliance territory, Greymuck's distinctive racial spore should have stood out clearly. The night elven druids could have posed a problem had the hunter not planned for them. Any trace of the troll's trail was lost beneath scent of the fetid creature that ran with him. Whatever Zaebos had rolled in insured no elf was going to pick up the hunters tracks. The fact it was making Tohma nauseous was surely just an added bonus for the troll.

At times he considered switching back to his natural form just to escape the rank hyena’s stench. Tempted as he was, Tohma knew he couldn’t afford to do so. First off, he had too much ground to make up. Greymuck was unlike to wait long for him... if he waited at all. Secondly, there was no way Zaebos had gotten that vile accidentally. Since taurens were just as rare as trolls out here, it would be folly to foil the hunter's camouflage just to be able to take a breath without wanting to gag.

Once Tohma had cleared the human town he angled his path until he finally found a distance close enough to ensure he did not loose Greymuck’s trace yet far enough to shield his sensitive feline nose. Able to breath freely for the first time all day, Tohma inhaled sharply and was nearly overcome by a wave of acrid smoke. The druid had come to the very edge of the human held lands. The rock beneath his feet was covered in soot, leeching it of its red tint. Blackened weeds and grey soil marked the end of the Redridge Mountains.

Before the druid stood a pair of massive gates standing partially open. Chains chimed and strands of hanging bones tapped together in the caustic breeze flowing from the Burning Steppes. Unable to bear the biting smog any longer Tohma resumed his tauren form. He started forward cautiously. From all the tales he had heard of this lava-filled land, he knew he had little hope of surviving anything he might encounter beyond the gate. Still, that was the way he must go to catch up with Greymuck.

He was only a few strides away from the boundary when his head snapped to the side due to a sharp blow from behind him. He caught sight of an arrow wobbling away after ricocheting off his left horn.

“I wouldn’t be too hasty if I were joo, Mon,” drawled Tohma’s irksome cohort. Greymuck leapt from the top of one of the steep ridges which lined the trail. He must have either been here longer than Tohma had expected or had rolled about on the ash-encrusted rocks. His scarred flesh was coated making the already dusky skin nearly black. His hair which was usually a light grey, almost white in some lights, hung in pewter hued strands. With his scars darkened he lost his disturbing patchwork appearance and looked for the first time to the druid almost normal.

Of course normalcy ended quickly when his psychotic familiar ambled up to the hunter's side. The sight of the beast raise Tohma’s ire even more than having its lunatic owner snap arrows off his skull. His back still throbbed occasionally since the fiend had attacked him. As much as he wanted to boot the grinning canine right in the chops, his keeper was much safer to confront. “A simple ‘Hold up.’ would have sufficed.”

“Where’s de fun in dat? ‘Sides I been coolin’ meh heels here for de better part of de day. Joo owe me one.”

“Fair enough. So what is your plan to cross the wasteland ahead?”

All traces of humor dropped from Greymuck. The troll’s stare burrowed into Tohma while his agile mind tried to wrap itself around this thoroughly inexplicable response. The hunter had expected defensive or reserved. Righteous or even cowed were highly possible as well, especially as the pun in the second one gave Greymuck a good long chuckle. Acceptance was so far off the potential reactions that the troll grew instantly suspicious. He knew the tauren had a noble streak but no-one was nice enough to shrug off witnessing that mutilation and the maniac fury that followed. Either the cow knew all along about him, making him the most accomplish spy or actor Greymuck had ever known or something very profound had occurred in the day and half they were apart. Greymuck was betting on the later but had no idea what it could have been. The cow was downright serene so there was very little chance of bullying him into spilling his secret.

Again the pun gave him a laugh and with it came the decision to let the mystery rest for the time being. The path ahead would be tough enough. Without cooperation their chances of both reaching the other side were close to non-existent. Since the furry rump-roast was willing to work with him at the moment, he might as well let the matter stand for now. Once they reached Kargath there would be time for some answers.

“De plan is simple. We run our asses off. While waitin’ for joo I readied a good number of ice and frost traps. Good chance de will not be strong enough to stop most of de beasties ahead so if someting gets on our tail, don’t joo slow up. Use joo roots only if I say so. Better to have dem pissed at me den joo. Got it?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Zaebos and I will lead this part. Joo just make sure joo keep clear of anyting dat runs, crawls or flies. Let’s go.”

[Chells]

Greymuck quickly ran his hands over his gear, checking to make sure all was where it should be. Once he was satisfied the troll crept up to the huge portal. Even before he could see around the doors he knew something big lurked close by. Beyond the gate the ground was rent with long crevasses. These were filled bubbling lava. Even over noise of the popping magma, Greymuck could hear the distinct sound of stones grinding together. It had to be an earth elemental. It was close. Very close. And very big. Greymuck put up a hand to halt the druid and reached out with his mind to Zaebos.

“Be me eyes boy”

For one dizzying moment Greymuck stood in two places at once but then the spell resolved and the troll was looking at his own body. Able to see and direct his pet the hunter slipped closer to the edge of the gateway. Zaebos’ eyes watered from the heat and smoke but looking around the mighty doors the two saw the large obsidian being wading through the molten rock just beyond the doors. As Greymuck had anticipated, the hyena did not attract the magma elemental’s attention but the moment either he or Tohma stepped through it would be on them in seconds. It was time to see if his freezing traps would be any use in a land filled with boiling slag.

Returning to his own body he gave the druid his orders. “Ookey. Joo stay here a sec wit Zaebos. When I whistle for him joo come right behind him.” Greymuck motioned for the hyena to sit and slipped into the burning landscape. In the scorching air his trap would not give them much time but it should hold the thing long enough for them to get over the narrow bridges and to someplace with some room to maneuver.

Greymuck had timed his approach for when the elemental was on far side of the lava pool. Setting the trap took barely a second. As the sizzling behemoth approached Greymuck readied a spell within his next arrow. If the trap failed the concussive force of the enchantment would slow the being down but it would only give them the slightest of head starts. As soon at the massive rock form noticed him and charged, Greymuck whistled for his two companions. Over the lip of the pit the elemental climbed straight onto the snare. Ice blasted upward sheathing the obsidian body in a frozen block. Waving the mutt and the bull ahead of him, Greymuck loped across the charred planks. His trap was melting far more swiftly than he would have liked but if it held for just a moment more they would be far enough away to make good an escape. The troll reached out with his senses and scanned the path ahead. There were a few things moving about off to the west but if they kept to the right they had plenty of room to ditch the elemental. Greymuck retook the lead and sprinted onward.

For the rest of the day the trio zigzagged through the desolate wasteland, moving ever northward. Greymuck’s hunter senses found gaps between the packs of prowling worgs and creeping lava spiders. That night they climbed one of the steep buttes that rose from the ash-bound terrain. The heat of scalding rocks charred their gauntlets and soon the flesh beneath as well. Twice they had to pass Zaebos up to ledges beyond the reach of even his powerful bounds. Tohma was sure he would savaged the moment he placed his hands on the hyena. Strangely enough, it not only let him but the big brute actually seemed to go out of his way not to catch the druid with his claws. Too tired and pained too puzzle out what had changed at that moment Tohma knew that something had altered Zaebos’ attitude towards him. When they finally reached the safe summit all three of them were hobbling badly. Tohma healed their burns while Greymuck heated dinner over a nearby magma flow. The troll spent the next few hours replacing the burnt out leather from their armor and gear. Unable to keep his eyes open much longer Tohma shifted into his ursine form and settle down on the flattest spot he could find. As he began to drift off he felt another furred form settle against his back. The tauren was stunned but even more so when he felt the Earth Mother presence over the beast. Ferocious or not, Zaebos was still one of Her children as was Her druid. Tohma fell asleep thinking for the first time that maybe, just maybe this discordant fellowship might have a chance to succeed.

The next day began early and proved no less grueling that the day before. It seemed that each mile the covered towards their goal consisted of twice as much distance skirting predators. Eventually the three neared the massive gray cliffs that walled the Burning Steppes from the land to the north. Tohma expected to see relief on the hunter’s ravaged features but instead the troll looked more tense than ever. When Greymuck caught him staring he just looked past the tauren southward and whispered. “We be in deep dung, cow. Worgs caught our trail and dere ain’t no quick way to dem rocks. Something big is right in our path. We go around and dem wolves catch us fer sure.”

“So what do we do?”

“Dere be at least three worgs behind us but just one monster sized scorpid in front. Don’t tink we got much choice. We got to try to trap de scorpid an bolt past it.”

“I could shift into my cat form and try to slip past it. If I root it from the far side it could give us the some more distance.”

“Not bad idea. If I can catch it inna ice trap once it breaks free, we might just make it. Joo sure joo won’t be spotted. Cause if joo are we got no chance.”

“Just point out to me where it is and I’ll make it by.”

“Ookey. Dis way.” he replied leading them towards a bubbling crack in the earth. Tohma immediately saw why they could not evade the worgs by turning east or west. The ground was riddled with deep rifts of lava channeling the travelers to narrow route due north. Weaving amidst the fumes and molten stone skittered a gigantic golden scorpion. Tohma watched it for a moment to discern its meandering path before changing to his most stealthful of forms. He stole forward using his magics to blend him into the landscape. Unfortunately this meant he could only move ahead at a terribly slow crawl. For each foot he crept he was sure the hunting wolves must be covering many times that distance in their pursuit. Keeping as close to the rivers of magma as he could Tohma finally slipped past the venomous arachnid. For a moment he thought he was done for as it skittered quite near him but somehow his camouflage held. When he had reached the limit of his range to call the entangling roots he dropped his feline shape and cast.

The scorpid shrilled an enrage squeal and tore at the entwining tendrils. Greymuck wasted no time speeding past the chitious predator. He dropped a trap and followed Tohma’s hasty retreat. They had only managed to cover half the distance to the cliffs when the beast ripped apart the last of its bonds. It triggered the ice trap but so great was its speed that the blast of ice only whitened its rear legs and did nothing to slows its charge. It ran right over the troll focus solely on the druid who attacked it. Greymuck flew sideways barely managing to halt himself at the edge of the lava filled rift. By the time he regained his feet the scorpid was only steps behind the tauren druid. Before Greymuck could cry out a warning, the deadly stinger lashed forward striking his companion high in the back. Tohma screamed as the poison flushed into his body. Before the rending pincers snagged his falling body a volley of arrows slashed into the creases behind the creature’s neck. It turned only to meet the snarling hyena head on. Zaebos’ powerful jaws actually cracked one of the armored claws with his first bite. The mangy beast lunged for the arachnids face but was hammered back when the uninjured pincer cannoned into his ribcage. Over and over the gigantic arms whelmed into Zaebos’ head and sides. Greymuck released shot after shot hoping to drive a shaft through one of the creature’s eyes and into its brain. Such was not to be. Zaebos fell stunned only a few strides away from the writhing druid. The scorpid turned on Greymuck. The hunter slowed it with a concussive shot but that only bought him seconds. He might be able to save himself but the cost would be Zaebos and Tohma. That was a price he would not abide.

As the stumbling Deathlash closed, Greymuck snatched a potion from his belt. Instead of uncorking and downing its contents, he jammed the entire bottle into his mouth. With practiced ease Greymuck slipped the bow into the open top case attached to his pack and drew his axe. He knew he had no chance against this foe in a toe to toe battle but that was not his intent. As the stunning spell wore off the scorpid lurched around the rim of the lava flow to reach the troll. Greymuck swung the axe with both hands and let it fly. The bladed weapon smashed into the armored brow blinding it for a second. That was all the troll need. Dodging to the right or left would not get him away from those slashing claws and retreat was not an option either. None of those were Greymuck’s goal. Diving feet first the hunter slid under the arachnid’s belly. Blinded by the axe blow the beast lost track of its prey until it felt itself being grasped from below. Before it could react Greymuck bit down on the vial in his mouth. Glass ripped into his cheeks and gums mixing his blood with the elixir of giant growth. As the potion swelled his body the troll launched himself upright, hurling both himself and his enemy over the edge of the boiling chasm. Using all of his newly acquired might he made sure the scorpid hit the magma back first below him. Even though this scalding terrain was its natural home there was a huge difference between hunting the borders of these rifts and landing directly into one of the deadly rivers. The beast screamed as the lava boiled it inside its shell. No matter how it thrashed Greymuck held it upside down, driving ever deeper into the burning flow. Only a few inches from the lava, his boots and cape burst into flames. The golden legs twitched once more as the scorpid’s brain cooked and finally died.

Just before the lava ooze over the last of the monsters torso, the gigantic troll bound out of the chasm trailing flames from his legs and cloak. Without the elixir Greymuck could never have hurdled his way to the safety. While the potion lasted it was mere a long leap.

The danger was by no means past. Tohma convulsed on the ground frothing at the mouth. Zaebos collapsed time and again as he tried to regain his feet. From his towering height the troll could see the pack of worgs race across the wasteland towards his wounded comrades. The potions magic would not last much longer either. Scooping up Zaebos in one hand and the tauren in the other, he sprinted for the steeps wall of stone ahead. Just as he reached it Greymuck whipped himself around. The weight of his two allies swept him around so rapidly that when he released Tohma the tauren was launched high into the air. Continuing to spin, he hurled Zaebos right afterwards. Both flew over the rim far above. Completely off balanced, the giant troll crashed face first into the cliff-side. Even with ears ringing from the impact he heard the snarls and yips break the air. He was out of time. With no other course of action available to him, the hunter evoked the one skill he hated most. Reaching into himself, he stopped his heart.

Wolves naturally eat carrion but the smoldering humanoid before them reeked so thoroughly of death they shied away from it. The three bristling worgs snuffled about the now empty terrain confused. They would have happily devoured the dead scorpid but they could no more survive the lava to draw it out than the arachnid could. The scent of shrinking troll repulsed them and the other two trails ended without a trace. Dispirited they turned about and headed back to their normal hunting grounds.

From the feigned death, Greymuck sensed the worgs departure. He waited a second more to be sure they did not double back then snatched up his flask of water and doused his the last of the flames from his leggings. He needed to tend the burns on his arms, legs and feet badly not to mention the deep lacerations to his tongue and gums. Greymuck willed away the pain of these wounds as he needed to move quickly. The druid looked like he had succumbed to shock. If Tohma had not purged the venom within his oversized body, he’d be dead very soon. Limping to the cliff, the troll searched for a way up. After a few minutes he realized there was no way to reach the ledge he had thrown them to.

“Phah!!! Be just ma luck to save de big ox’s hide and he die anyways. Not gonna happen. Hey Mutt!!! Where joo be?” Closing his eyes he opened the rapport he held with his pet. He caught a glimpse of Zaebos holding the thrashing druid from rolling off the shelf. Greymuck let go before he took command of the hyena’s actions. Nether of them liked being controlled by other and long ago the hunter had learned that the animals of this world were far smarter than people, even other hunters, credited them for. He kept their minds connected though. “He’s delirious. Snap him out of it. Bark, lick, hell bite him if joo have to, but get him aware and den get joor smelly butt to de edge. I need help up.”

He listened to the scuffling from above for a minute until he heard the tauren howl in pain. “Oh Earth Mother!! Zaebos you shít!! What was that for!” Tohma continued to swear though with steadily less comprehensibly as Zaebos slumped down at the edge of the rocks above. “Ookey boy. Catch!” With practiced ease the troll hurled a coil of rope straight to the waiting jaws. “Now find someting to lean against. If joo tink joo you gonna go over, joo let go and we try again. Joo get dragged off and we done for. Me fallin on me arse we can live with. Go!” The rope would break long before it could be pulled out of those teeth but Greymuck worried the proud mutt might just hang on even if it meant getting pulled off the ledge. When he felt his friend's mind signal his readiness he began to climb. With steady pulls he scaled the rope careful not to jerk it in the slightest. He reached the top to find Zaebos had had used the only anchor he could find on the smooth perch. The rope was looped around the bulky tauren who still moaned in agony. The only difference was instead of clutching his wounded shoulder, the big cow was curled into a ball, cradling his privates and uttering feeble expletives while tears pouring from his eyes. Greymuck nearly lost his hold as he barked out a laugh. “Joo sure know how to get someone’s attention boy. Good job!”

Greymuck wasted no time worrying about the tauren’s future love life. He drew his dagger and quickly cut away the pierced leather armor. He then slashed the flesh beneath. Tohma moaned again. “Dat’s right joo big cow, joo still alive. Now use joor damned magic and drive out de poison. If I have to do it joo are gonna regret it.” The tauren mumbled and tried to pull away but Greymuck held him down. “Ookey. Have it joo way but joo don’t getta pass out for dis either.” he snarled. Slapping the furred muzzle with all his might he snapped the druid’s head back. “Last chance tree-hugger. Joo gonna get dat venom out or do Zaebos an I get ta do it? Come here boy. Most o dis shoulder gotta come off. When I start cutting joo rip it back. Ready? One…” Two never came as Tohma slapped a glowing green hand to the festering wound. More black fluid spurted out of the holed flesh followed by a wave of green puss and finally dark red blood. “Knew joo could do it.” uttered the hunter as he wrapped the wound in mageweave.

Tending to Zaebos next Greymuck figured they’d be stuck here until at least until morning. His legs and hands were charred, and neither he nor Zaebos were going to be able to drag the beef pile over the mountains. He hoped they’d get lucky tonight. Just because the worgs didn’t figure out where Tohma and Zaebos had gone did not mean all the other hunters here would miss them. One of those lava spiders would be up that crag in seconds. Tomorrow they’d have to press on no matter what shape the druid was in.

[Tor varr]

This is a fantastic story!

For the record, I almost started moaning with Tohma. I could think of kinder ways to wake someone up.

[Chells]

Thx Tor. Just wish the server move hadn't scrambled it all up. Makes it nearly impossible to read in places.

[Grubblies]

Hey man, fantastic writing. More! More!

Just one thing I've noticed is that you have a tendency to bring the poor grammar the Troll uses into your non-speech writing, for example "you" instead of "your" or "you're".

Your writing style is great - it keeps your readers wanting more instead of thinking "When will it end?!?!!!"

[Wild Soul]

I enjoyed it a great deal and really look forward to reading more. I have a soft spot for Trolls and I like Greymuck:grin: .

I love the style and the dialogue, especially for the Trolls. Really brings out their "accent" or whatever you prefer to call it.


I wish I was better at critiquing, but I really did enjoy it and hope more will come soon. And I promise to read it over a second time and give some more definite praise and criticism then.:smiley:

[Chells]

http://www.mithrilcircle.com/fiction/greymuck/images/Ch05-SearingChase.jpg

Through a haze of pain and exhaustion, Tohma stumbled along the steep ridgeline. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of the hunter scouting ahead but mostly his companion was Zaebos. The rank hyena alternated between the roles of shepherd and tormenter. More times than the druid could count the shaggy brute had bumped him away from the edge of a cliff or turned him the right way to stay on the troll's trail. Equally as often, the foam flecked jaws had bitten down on fingers, ears and even his nose to rouse him after he had fallen. There would be no rest until they reached the mountain crest. "Just one more step," Tohma chanted silently to himself over and over again as he plodded ever upward.

Greymuck stopped at the base of a steep rise. Getting the big moose up it was possible but he was unsure how many more climbs were left in the druid. As much as he hated to admit it, the tauren was proving to be tougher than he would have given him credit for. Granted if the stupid ox could think on his feet he would have purged the poisons before they had a chance to ravage through his body. Still, given the amount of damage the toxins had done, not to mention the deep wound itself, the troll was grudgingly impressed that Tohma was still going. Greymuck wondered if it was just plain grit or did the cow know that falling behind was a death sentence. Even fully fit Zaebos and he could never have dragged the cow's huge bulk over the peaks and neither of them were anywhere near fit. The fight with the scorpid had torn several muscles and the burns on his hands and feet remained raw. The mutt was still limping and breathing shallowly. Greymuck hoped it was just bruises and not fractured ribs. They all need time to heal but until they reached the Badlands there was no safe place to hole up.

There were plenty of places in Kalimdor where it was far too perilous to stop but at least they were at the extreme north and south of the land. Azeroth, of course, had to lay its greatest threat right across the middle of the continent. One more reason Greymuck hated this land. "Someday!" he muttered under his breath. "Someday all of dis wretched land will fall inta da sea. Someday every last human will perish. Someday... and if der be a voodoo strong enough, I shore hope I be here ta see it. Well... as long as I don't need ta join dem zombies in Lordaeron dat is." The troll spent the next few minutes envisioning the sea smashing through Westfall and flooding the forests beyond. By the time Tohma caught up, the great waves in his mind were tearing down the walls of Stormwind. Had the druid not been barely conscious, the troll?s grin would have made him shudder.

To Tohma, Greymuck could have been juggling gnomes and breathing fire and he still would not have noticed. With a resounding "Whuf!", the giant humanoid toppled onto the troll's long blue toes.

"Oh fer cryin' out loud!" barked the hunter hopping backwards and nearly tripping over his pet. Zaebos eyed him balefully as the animal shuffled out from under his dancing master.

"Tink we gonna get him up again Boy?"

Zaebos merely rolled his eyes and promptly flopped down next to the tauren.

"Pah! Not joo too. Fine but we be movin? again in ten minutes."

Grumbling, the troll tromped away from the sprawled pair. He knew there was no way he was going to move either of those two for at least a half hour. This high up they should be alone but it would only take one more encounter to wipe out this mission. At least it would be until they reached the Searing Gorge. Though the spiders and dwarves ahead would still be quite a challenge, Greymuck knew they could be bested as long as he could keep them from closing with him.

For the next twenty minutes the hunter climbed, looking for the easiest route to the top. Reaching the summit Greymuck breathed a sigh of relief. They could camp here tonight. From this point they could reach the Badlands sometime in the following night, if the druid could keep up that is. Between the Dark Iron Clan and the steady stream of Alliance riders it would be unlikely if the trio were to find a safe spot to hole up between the two borders. Better to push onto the pass and then make a late start for Kargath the next day.

The only question was; could Tohma manage it.

Greymuck headed back to where he had left his furry companions and with a few well placed kicks got them moving once more. It took them an hour for him to regain the peak once more with the druid. Zaebos too was about done in and now Greymuck realized why. The hyena had been prodding and supporting Tohma consistently for the whole last leg of the trip. How long he had been doing so before then only the mutt knew. The tauren was delirious and Greymuck had been focused on their enemies not his allies. He let the two of them collapse once more and took over the camp details himself. Water might be an issue if they did not reach Kargath within three days but he knew they would never reach it at all if he didn?t get his companions back into reasonable shape once more. He forced roughly half of their remaining water into both the cow and cur. Food could wait until they were up on their own.

Next he groomed Zaebos. The hyena was carrying as much dirt and debris as the hunter wore in armor. The need for disguise was past. If anything Greymuck would want anyone they stumbled into to lock onto him and not the strickened druid or weary familiar. Using the bone combs he had made, the troll raked out the mats of tangled fur. A rain of sand and small chips of gravel was pulled from the wiry coat. While he worked he tested the bone and muscles beneath his long fingers for any deep damage. So far he had only found bruises. Sharing his life-force with the hyena returned almost all but the most negligible of the contusions to healthy tissue once more. Lastly he took a packet of ground sungrass and silversage out of his pack and worked it through the hyena?s coat. While it was not the same a good dunking, the herbs when brushed back out left Zaebos' smell nearly unnoticeable. It also left the hairy brute snoring contently.

"Joo sleep well boy. Tomorrow could be a bery rough day."

When sun reached them the world below was still hidden by shadows. Greymuck stretched and yawned. By his side Zaebos did the same, though with considerable more gusto. The hyena was back to his old self and ready to go. Tohma on the other hand still seemed far from recovered. His hands shook as he lifted the waterskin to his muzzle. Red broken veins rimmed his eyes and his wheezing gasps made even Greymuck flinch in sympathy. "He's neva gonna make it." the troll uttered under his breath. They had barely enough water as it was. If they rested the day and headed out tomorrow, it would mean they would reach Kargath long after their water was gone. That was something no hunter would ever stand for. A twisted ankle or wrong turn could mean life or death in the desert without water.

"Tohma, we canna stay here. I need ta know, can joo make de hike teday or no?"

"Where are we going?"

"Joo betta be kiddin me. To Kargath joo stupid ox!"

"I know Kargath, Greymuck. How far are we going to go today?"

"Oh why dinna say dat? Okey sit up. See how da sun is lighting the peaks to the east. Keep following dem peaks north. Now see dere that black gap way up dere. Dat is de pass to de Badlands. If we hoof it, pardon de pun, we could make it dere by nightfall. If we stop den we are gonna need to go twice as far cause dere ain't many safe spots in batween."

Tohma's gaze followed to where Greymuck was pointing and groaned. He could still feel the burning toxins in his blood. It was a vicious circle. He knew if he was not so weakened by the poisons he'd have the strength to fully purge them from his body but they would have to be purged for him to get strong again.

He gauged the distance in his head and knew he could make but if he did it would be well past sunset. "I can make it but not at full speed. At best guess I'd say sometime past midnight. I'll need to rest a couple times in that run as well so hopefully there will be someplace safe enough for a half hour at a time."

"Damn. Den we be sunk. See dat smoke dere. Dat be a dark iron dwarf camp. I was tinking dat if we booked it at full speed past it we might just fly by before de could react. Joo in no shape for dat. Even if joo could do it joo'd be spent for de rest of de trip."

Greymuck stared down at smog billowing from the malignant dwarves mine-site. Usually the destructive midgets stayed further to the east and as long as one stayed to the road it was possible to get past them without alerting them to your passage. Of course this one time the troll's usually unbelievable good luck was completely absent. The grey skinned little primates were building something made of pipes and timbers right along side roadway. No matter which line Greymuck lead them, they would stir up trouble. If he avoided the road and kept to the rocks on the left they'd be dodging the spiders for the next hour. The last think Tohma could handle was more venom. There was only way to pull this off.

He began to turn when Zaebos slammed into him.

"Dammit Mutt! Joo stay outta me head."

Even though he knew the hyena would not rip his face off, the deep growl that emanated from those massive jaws gave even the scarred hunter a bit of a pause.

"Dere ain't no utter way Boy. Joo gotta stay wit Tohma. If anyting get's on joo trail it be up to joo to keep it busy while he keeps goin. But before any o dat can happen I need ta clear dat camp."

Zaebos rumbled a second growl but it lacked the depth of the first. Greymuck knew his friend understood even if he didn't like it. With anyone else Greymuck wouldn't have given a flying fig but for Zaebos he waited. The heavy canine was crushing his hip but the hunter gave the beast the time it needed to accept the decision. Finally the hyena stepped off and walked up to Tohma.

The druid looked over at the shaggy brute and recoiled. Whatever bond he and the beast had slowly been forming was gone from the look the animal hurled at the him. There was no doubt in Zaebos' mind that it was the tauren's fault that he and his master were about to separate.

The strain of hyena's emotions in his mind fueled Greymuck's ever simmering anger "Okey Cow," he snapped. "When joo hit dat road joo keep goin. If joo loose Zaebos den joo gonna die if anyting catches joo, so don't stop unless joo sure joo in da clear. Joo got it?"

"I understand."

"Den let's head down."

After an hour of picking their way down the rocky slope, the three travelers stood at the edge of the northbound road.

"Okey dis is it. As soon as joo see dem rock apes start a running joo head north as fast as joo can. I'll be behind joo as soon as I can."

He stepped up onto the road only to find Zaebos right at his side. "Ja I know Boy. Dis ain't be my first choice o plans eider. Still I get da feeling dat we can?t just ditch da cow. I know joo feel da same so don't joo snort at me. Once we get ta Kargath we can dump him and head back to Brackenwall. So da sooner joo get him dere da sooner joo can get a bowl o whiskey and get jooself smashed."

Leaving the mournful hyena behind Greymuck angled his approach to keep the dwarves to his right. If all went well the whole pack of them would charge to him and so open the way for Zaebos and Tohma. Even though he was pretty sure that if he started riddling one of them with arrows they'd all stick up for the grubber, the hunter did not feel like taking any chances. Better to make sure the whole lot of them are madder than hornets personally.

He waited until the whole group of them began to lift a support timber together and then fired an enchanted arrow over their heads. In seconds the single arrow became two, then four, then sixteen identical missiles. A hail of arrows dropped down from the sky onto the squat dark iron clansmen. Most immediately reached to pull the sharp barbs from their flesh which of course overbalanced the huge wooden spar they were carrying. The beam smashed down on feet and toes while the deadly rain continued to fall.

Screaming with fury the dwarves drew their weapons and charged onto to be humiliated further. The lead attacker was so intent in rending the troll limb from limb he failed to notice the trap hidden in his path. With a rush of artic air, the tripped construct immediately coated the ground with a solid layer of ice. The thick leather soled boots of the dwarves, so perfect for shield one's feet from the scalding landscape, offered virtually no purchase at all on the glass smooth sheet below them. Greymuck nearly wet himself watching the bulky runts kick their stubby little legs as fast as they could on the slick coat of ice. Most of them landed on their rumps but a couple cracked right down on their potato sized noses and one did a perfect somersault and landed right on his head. There a few joys in life greater than watching a troupe of well disciplined foes come completely unraveled. "Like shootin fish inna barrel," Greymuck thought as he put a few more holes into a couple selected targets.

By now the dwarves were using their knives and picks to drag themselves across the slick, though one of the berserk midgets began to pull himself along by his teeth. Not wanted to get too far ahead the hunter let them come a little closer. Just as one was almost to the edge of the rime Greymuck let loose a concussive shot. The force of the bolt ripped the dwarf's knives out of the frost and cannoned him backwards. The grey pygmy careened off his companions like a pinball, his blades slashing his friends in the process.

As much as he would have loved to humble them further, the scarred hunter knew it was time to go. Bounding on his long legs the troll sprinted to the North West. Just in time too. He could hear the hammering of feet behind him. Every few yards Greymuck would leap, spin and fire off a shot at his attackers to keep them coming. He probably needn't have worried, the Dark Irons probably would have charged one of the Aspect dragons to get at the troll at that moment.

As none of the great beasts were available just then Greymuck settled for the pack of glassweb spiders that lurked on the stony tors ahead. With the howling dwarves right on his heels, the hunter leapt into the middle of the largest pack of the arachnids he spotted. The venomous predators turned on Greymuck but before any of them launched an attack the hunter fell to the ground stone cold dead. The dwarves would have gleefully torn him apart, dead or not, but the glasswebs, having lost one meal, were quite happy to lunch on dark iron blood instead.

In the brawl that ensued no-one noticed the corpse that had started it all had quietly slipped away.

Sitting on a tall rock about sixty yards away, Greymuck watched his handiwork. Unfortunately it looked as though the dwarves were going to win. If the spiders prevailed then he could just head east and catch up with Zaebos and Dumb-Bleeding Bull. The dwarves on the other hand might just be stubborn enough to track him down or, as hard as it is to stomach, smart enough to figure out that they had been lead away. If more than three survived Greymuck was in for a very long day.

When there were only two spiders left and four of the rock apes, Greymuck reentered the fray. Targeting the most wounded of the runts he began to fire his bow as quickly as he was able. Arrows ripped through the air so quickly that there were three shafts in flight at any moment. The dark iron warrior collapsed in a heap as the archer targeted the next dwarf. Between the arachnid and the troll the rock-grubber was taking a terrible beating but he managed to slay the spider. Greymuck noted that the last spider had also fallen silent. He dove off the rise just as the two remaining clansmen joined his target.

Now it came down to a matter of timing. Greymuck repeated his jumping and spinning assault all the while staying just ahead of his pursuers. If they managed to box him in or drive him into another foe he'd be done for. If Greymuck did not keep his attack up the runts would heal faster than he could kill them. If he outdistanced them they might head back too soon. "Let da chase begin." uttered the troll.

He almost lost them when the dwarf he had mostly been targeting fell to his knees. His companions turn to help him and Greymuck could read the failing resolve on their features. Using his most deadly skill the hunter unleashed the shot he had been saving for just such and occasion. The arrow slammed into the wounded one's forehead and as clear as a bell rang against the skull cap? from this inside. The grey skinned mole toppled over face first, driving the arrow the rest of the way through. The remaining dwarves stood there for a second, watching their friend's helm rock back and forth three feet off the ground. In unison their faces blackened with rage and the hunt was on once more.

For the rest of the afternoon, the troll played with the pair. He knocked them off cliffs. He drilled holes anywhere their armor had gaps. He tricked them into ambushes and ran them into tarantulas.

By the time the lone remaining dwarf tried to drag himself away, the hunter was thoroughly enjoying himself. Using a long dead tree, the hunter nailed the grey runt to the trunk. Without Tohma's revulsion, picking the dwarf apart one vein at a time was so much more fun.

He left the shredded corpse pinned to the sooty old bark and got his bearings. He was much farther west than he had hoped to be. Even if BrokeBeef Mountain was crawling on his fingers and hooves, the two would still reach the pass long before he could catch up. He thought about Zaebos and immediately regretted it. The distance between them was downright painful once he thought about it.

"Joo best be ookey, Mutt," he hissed. "If not, den tings are gonna get REALLY ugly."

Leaving the only mildly ugly tatters of what was once a dwarf, Greymuck turned away from the setting sun and began to run once more.

[Chells]

Thanks for encouragement. I finished up chapter 5 yesterday and usually I spend some time proofing it (even though it never seems to help me with you, your, you're, don't know why I always miss those :ponder: )
So this is only slightly redrafted. Let me know if it's really dreadful and I'll make sure to spend more time on the later chapters.

[Tor varr]

Brokebeef Mountain? That is a terrible pun.

Overall, this chapter was rather good, although you did miss a couple of question marks.

I won't deny, though, this chapter is not as polished as some of your other chapters. Don't get me wrong, it still is a good chapter.

[Grubblies]

Your = "That is your hat" ie. ownership
You're = "You're fat!" ie. Contraction of "You are", just like isn't is a contraction of "Is not"

[Virgil]

I hope you're not done with this, because I'm thoroughly enjoying it.

[Chells]

Nope still have 10 more chapters to go. Had to take a bit of a break to finish another project (was for my son birthday last weekend.) I'll get back to work on chapter 6 this week.

[Heavysteps]

great story, great way to tell it, nice rythm

very good work overall... love the characters and the insight on Greymuck was very nice... are we getting some of the same for Tohma or Zaebos later on? maybe it's not needed anyways =P

thanks on the great read

[Niderin]

I am never one to be a critiqe buy if you dont finish this story ill do something really bad (dont know what it is yet). The only thing I can say is i dont know what you mean whe you said somethin about a wolf and a sheep there was a misplelling or somethin.

[Niderin]

So how long do you think it will be till you post the next part

[shibs]

Best fan fic ive read in a long time. Keep writing

[Tanitha]

I have just finished Chapter 1 and am busy digging into Chapter 2 now. Thoroughly impressed and unable to work for the rest of the day as I absorb this.

Lovely work Chells!