The rogue and the spirits
In deadly silence Qual, the troll rogue, watched from the dark shadows of the forest. He had come to Ashenvale on a mission to scout the nightelf activities in the area for the Scattered Hand.
He watched now in disbelief as a tauren was escorted away by four fragile nightelves.
"How come da big tauren did not put ap a fight?" Qual thought to himself as he quietly followed the party and their prisoner.
One of the elves took something from the taurens belt, a small figurine of som sort... Qual sneaked up alittle bit closer. A totem! It as a shamans figurine of a totem. And judging from his equipment, he was high in the ranks of the shaman order. This got Qual even more intruiged, why did the shaman tolerate this? Surely his spirit powers would make short work of the much less experienced nighelves.
Then a feeling ruched over Qual, like a cold winter breeze in the midst of the summer forest. He was being watched. He spun around, daggers drawn and ready. But there were only trees and shadows. The feeling went away.
"Cursed be dis forest" Qual thought to himself and turned his attention once again to the nightelves and the tauren prisoner.
Something about the shaman did't add up... something was out of place...
Then he noticed... the big tauren was smiling!
Qual creept deeper into the shadows.
Later on the nightelves stoped and made camp. They tied the tauren to a treeand took turns guarding him.
ual smiled as he moved closer to the camp, knowing just where his dagger soon would be placed against the fragile nightelf throat...and the surprised look on his face as he stared into the trolls tribal painted face ad then drifting away to the nether. But all in good time...all in good time...
Silently Qual waited in the deep shadows of the forest while the nightelves fell asleep one by one, untill only one was awake to guard the shaman.
On their secon watch Qual took action and creept closer to the unfortunate guard. Not much effort was needed to slith the frigile nightelf throat, and Qual captured him in his fall and layed him down on the ground. Two more nightelves lost thir lifes that night, without even waking up from their sleep.
The fourth one was roughly awaken by a bloodstained glove covering his mouth. And he woke up in horor, finding himself staring into a tribal painted face of a troll just inches away from him, and feeling the cold steel of a dagger against his throat.
"Ya be thinking twice before messin with da Horde again, mon." Qual whispered to the terrified nightelf and then leaned closer and whispered in his ear "Or ya be dead!"
Qual knew very well that the nightelf didn't understand his native troll tounge. But he knew that the message would be the same. He would report of this night and all his friends would know how easely they could die if they ventured to close to the Horde encampments. Qual stepped away from the nightelf and kicked him on his way, he watched as the slim siluet dissapeared into the forest.
Qual then turned to face the shama and to free him, only to find him standing up gathering his belongings.
"Greetings Qual" the tauren said in Orcish "I am Torm Spirtithoof of the Bloodhoof clan. The spirit told me of our meeting. Come we must go before he returns with backup"
Qual look at the shaman with a look of confusion, but followed him into the woods.
They made thier way to Splitertree outpost and sat down in the in.
"Now, mon. How come ya know ma name?" Qual asked "And how come ya didn't fight da nightelves?"
"All in good time, my friend" Torm replayed calmly. "Have you ever heared of Praetoria Iperialis?"
Qual leaned back in his chair, looking curiously on the tauren on the other side of the table.
"Ya, mon. I saw them dealing with a troublsome warlock over in the pinkskins lands"
Torm smiled, remembering that mission and the fire he'd seen burning in the spirits of his brothers and sisters that day.
"Aye" Torm said "that was a good day. Come we must go if we're not to be late." He stood up and turned to the door.
"Late for what, mon?" Qual asked.
"The meting with your new brotherhood" Torm replayed calmly and turned to face the surprised rogue.
"The brotherhood of Praetoria Imperialis"