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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Blue Squad heads for the Twilight Highlands, and arrives to find chaos. And a turtle. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Atley marches up to the assembly area, finishing off one last strip of jerky. He carries a small ruck sack attached to the back of his belt. He begins to perform a small headcount.
Shine glances up at the approach. He has been checking over his own gear, but straightens when he sees Atley and nods to him.
"Lo there, Red!" says the redheaded dwarf to the dark-haired human.
Atley nods to Brannagen in greeting.
Iphindra runs up to Atley. "Hi!" she says, saluting. She is wearing an adventure-ready outfit, and there's a purple strand in her braided green hair.
Atley replies to her salute with one of his own.
Oranna hustles in closer to the others. The state of her hair and cheeks suggests she's been here for at least half an hour, probably double checking everything. She waves to the group, looking more closely at Shine as the unfamiliar face.
Bran gives Oranna an enthusiastic wave, his eyes almost disappearing as he smiles.
"Let's rally up, you lot. We've a bit of word 'fore we shove off," Atley explains.
"Sir." Shine nods politely to Dane.
"Some new faces about, some old," Atley says. "We'll have a round of introductions and keep it swift. The fight's waiting for us." He nods to Iphindra. "This is Iphindra. Druid, Dryad Sister, and naturalist."
Iphi's eyes widen a little as he mentions the dryad part. It's fine, she was seen with dryads a lot these days, she's jut not used to it.
Atley points at Oranna. "Oranna Stormbreaker, sharpshooter and tracker." He nods at the other human. "Shine. Recon and amphibious warfare expert."
"And this is my lass, Can't Befound, or jus' 'Befound,' as ye please," Oranna adds. Befound streeeetches out her claws, narrowing sapphire eyes at Dane.
Atley looks to Befound and nods with a gruff, fond look.
"Lo there, beautiful!" Bran says to Befound.
Befound yawns, showing her impressive teeth, but there's a bone shaking rumble of a purr briefly.
Shine looks from Iphindra to Oranna, and then smiles faintly at the leopard.
Lastly, Atley juts a nod to Brannagen. "Prospector Brannagen Stillwall. Lead healer, and archaeologist."
"Aye, I'm Prospector Stillwall, but ye can call me Bran if ye like."
Iphindra waves 'hi' to everyone as they're introduced; including Befound.
"Any questions 'fore we move on to our objectives in country?" Atley growls.
"Ready when you are, ser!" Bran says enthusiastically to Dane.
Shine smiles faintly at Bran. He looks back to Dane, his expression neutral. He does not appear to have had a question ever in his life.
Oranna looks like she might have questions, but she shakes her head. They can probably wait.
Iphindra looks at everyone's armor, then remembers to put on her tabard. She is not doing an Azizia.
"The Highlands are in chaos. We're going to establish order. The Wildhammers have joined the Alliance, but they are a fierce, spirited, and independent people. Many of the clans are not so eager to be bound to us. We're to represent the Alliance as a whole and prove why its all of our best interests' to cooperate. Secondly, the Dragonmaw clan of orcs have thrown themselves in with the Horde. We cannot allow them to conquer the Highlands and dig in to the Highlands."
Shine's expression gets even neutraller, if that is possible.
"Agreed, ser!" says Bran.
"It's partly our own fault. The Wildhammers being so independent, I mean. We've been keepin' tae ourselves a little too long, but if there's one thing Bronzebeards can handle and help with, it's a siege of orcs," Oranna says.
Shine looks down at Oranna again and reassesses her. He nods.
"And finally, the Twilight's Hammer themselves. We're putting them to the sword. Any questions?" Atley asks, looking to each of them.
"Let's do thes!" says Bran, cracking his knuckles in a very unpriestly manner.
Atley nods. "Very well. Let's move." Atley turns and marches off.
Iphi nods and follows.
"I don't really… have a sword ta put them to, but aye, I'm ready." Oranna pats an overengineered gun emblazed with the word SUNBEAM.
"Lo there Sunbeam!" says Bran to the gun.
Oranna startles, a shock of a jolt of grief on her face, that seems to catch her breath in her chest for a moment. She clears her throat, and offers a shaky smile to Bran.
Bran absently casts Renew on Oranna, just a little warm wave of healing energy, futile but instinctive and well-meant.
Atley points ahead. "That'll be our ride, then."
A familiar, grimy-looking dwarf whose entire head appears to consist of a black beard and goggles, is pacing and muttering under his breath as he surveys the seaplane bobbing gently beside the dock. The seaplane is clearly, shall we say, a DIY project that has not been cleared by the FAA.
The dwarf looks up as the members of Cobalt approach. “Och!” he says. “Et’s tha Kobold Company!”
Iphi chuckles shyly at the name error.
Atley glances over Flintlocke's shoulder, inspecting the vehicle, before refocusing on the dwarf himself. "Aye. Ready to travel."
The dwarf nods and rustles his beard. “The Keng was lookin’ fer someone tae get ye lickety-fast up ta the highlands, and as ye did me a good turn with me powder an’ parts, I volernteered. Yer welcome.
“Fargo Flintlocke’s the name, and this is yer plane. My plane. The plane ye’ll be ridin’ in.” He gestures at the seaplane with a pride it does not seem to deserve.
Bran eyes the plane.
“All erboard!” Flintlocke says cheerily. “Some of ye may have ter hold the cartons of cat food on yer laps.”
Atley grunts. "Very well." He marches down the plank and ducks low, low, low to get inside.
"I will d-do that!" Iphi exclaims.
Shine stares at Flintlocke for a moment, and then the plane. He nods and climbs in carefully.
Bran waits until everyone else is settled in the plane, then tries to find room for himself.
"Thanks?" Oranna says belatedly. Befound volunteers to hold cat food in her lap. "Ach, not ye lass. This is wee lil cat food. Ye'll no' e'ven like it."
Iphindra grabs a box of cat food. A plant around her hand reaches sneakily into the box, grabs a little bit of food and holds it in front of Befound.
Befound sniffs at the cat food only once, before she butts her head into Oranna's lap.
“The cat food’s for if we crash in the mountains,” Flintlocke reports as he clambers into the pilot’s seat. “I like ta be perpared, and you lot look like the sorts who might be a little hasty ta resort ta canniberlism. ”
Atley deadpans Fargo as he listens.
"Lad, we have a hunter with us — the cat food isna necessary. Unless…." Bran eyes Befound. "Nae, I think even she could do better."
"Aye. I've lived in mountains my whole life. We're no' goin' anywhere strange," Oranna mutters.
The plane’s engines sputter and cough, emitting clouds of greasy smoke. It coasts in a halting, herky-jerky fashion over the water before lurching into the air. For a moment it swings precipitously from side to side, as if it might roll, but then it rights itself and begins a long, alarmingly low loop over the city rooftops.
Oranna makes an uncomfortable squeak, squeezing her eyes shut as she grabs hold of anything that's nearby, which ends up being Befound and Bran.
Bran gently pats Oranna, grinning as he looks around.
Atley sets his jaw and stares straight ahead, a box of cat food in his lap.
"Whooop!" Bran cries out as the plane briefly plummets. "Anyone an engineer?"
Atley tears his gaze away from dead ahead to inspect his squad members as he's jostled by the ride.
Iphindra shrinks down as she sits with her knees very close to the cat food box, as to not take much space.
“Here we go!” bellows Flintlocke. “Don’t black out, now!” He flips a switch, and the plane’s engines give a sudden, fiery roar.
It rockets north.
ONE WHITE-KNUCKLED PLANE RIDE LATER…
The seaplane comes to a splashing landing among a small group of Alliance ships moored beside a rocky island which is crested by a half-built stone fortress. At the moment, that fortress is swarmed by Alliance soldiers and marines locked in noisy, desperate combat with orcs. Overhead, a goblin zeppelin circles low around the island, dropping the occasional indiscriminate bombardment.
"Up and out!" Atley growls, before he follows his own orders and climbs out and aboard one of the vessels.
Bran looks around, turquoise eyes sparkling with interest at the chaos, and no apparent dismay.
"Don't black out, don't explode, don't black out, don't explode," Oranna mutters under her breath as the plane lands. She brushes back her hair, and climbs from the plane with shaky legs.
Bran gives Oranna an encouraging, cobalt-gloved thumbs-up. He's dressed in very loyal colors today.
A man in lieutenant’s colors waits at the rail of the ship to help the members of Blue Squad aboard. “Cobalt Company?” he shouts above the commotion. “Lieutenant Fawkes. As you can see, we’re in the thick of it already.”
"Aye!" Bran acknowledges.
Shine is staring grimly toward the combat on the island.
Atley eyes his squad in his periphery and nods. "That's us. Get us into the fight, Lieutenant," he growls, briefly saluting.
Iphindra sighs with relief as her feet touch the ground. She then immediately goes into fight mode as she notices the orcs.
Oranna barely has her bearings when she whips out her gun, staring down the scope at the chaos. "Ach, they've completely breached the area…."
The Lieutenant nods at Atley. He gestures at the chaos around them. “The Horde launched an aerial ambush on our fleet before we’d reached the place. The ships you see here are all we have left. They’ve dropped troops in on Highbank itself, and we’re fighting for control of the keep."
Atley's look darkens, and his jaw clenches. He nods once and keeps listening, shrewd gaze locked on Fawkes.
Bran listens, taking a few quick notes in his journal.
Shine says something under his breath.
“If you can get in there and thin their numbers, that would be a good start.” The Lieutenant ducks reflexively as another goblin bombardment blasts nearby, shattering a section of the fortress’s wall.
"It's no' good. It's all scattered skirmishes and they're behind the lines," Oranna says, slightly more audibly under her breath. She nods. Louder she says, "We'll get control back."
"No problem!" says Bran, flexing his hands as though he intends to punch them personally.
Atley snatches the Lion Horn of Stormwind off of his belt. "Clear the decks!" he growls, clutching the horn in his shield hand.
Once they hit land, Atley raises the Lion Horn and blows through it, issuing a deafening thrum that carries over all of Highbank.
Oranna's shots are unerring. She looks like she was made for this, shooting down orcs.
Shine vanishes in and out of the pandemonium, and makes short and bloody work of orcs.
Iphindra summons the power of the sun and of insect swarms. A sweet scent of calming flowers floods the battlefield, coming from her hair.
Bran hangs out near Oranna but keeps his eyes on the melee.
Many, many orcs die.
"That's some breathing room, you lot. Back to the Lieutenant," Atley growls.
"Aye. Breathin'," Oranna says quietly.
They return to Fawkes aboard the ship.
"We bought you some time, Lieutenant," Atley explains, perhaps needlessly with Fawkes' viewpoint of the battle.
Indeed, Lieutenant Fawkes has been gazing fixedly toward the shore. He turns to nod at the squad as they return. "That's more like it. We'll mop up from here." He steps away to begin issuing orders to his own men.
Fargo Flintlocke has been waiting beside Fawkes, gazing upward at the zeppelin. He beckons now with both hands at Blue Squad. “I have an idear about that thar zepperlin. Why don’t ye lot can scrounge me up all the powder ye can find, and meet me over by the smithy? We’ll teach those fellers a thing or two about kersplosions!”
"Woohoo!" says Bran at the prospect of explosions.
Oranna nods firmly. She also looks pleased at the thought of some explosions. You know. At a distance. Out of eyebrow range.
Atley grunts at Fargo and up-nods. "Let's get to it, you lot. We need the sky clear, now!"
"Watch the skies," Atley warns as they move back through the battle ashore.
Oranna doesn't need to be told — she's already watching them, as much as the battlefield. Orc tactics are nothing new to the sniper.
Shine kills some more orcs on principle, his expression a hard blank.
Bran does not seem particularly alert, but he never fails to casually sling a heal at whoever needs it.
In a moment's brief lull, Shine pauses in the shelter of a wall to stare up at the zeppelin. "Fallon's going to lose his mind," he remarks to no one in particular.
Atley grunts emphatically in between slashing at orcs.
"Is tha'… a bad thing?" Oranna asks. "Or do we want ah, Fallon, losing their mind?"
"That's Admiral Fallon," Atley explains. "Our navy's been devastated."
Shine glances at Oranna. "Aye. He's been overseeing the rebuilding of the fleet. He'll be furious. Ships scarce enough as it is."
"Oh, the lass's brother!" Bran says with an 'I got that reference' vibe.
Shine nods at Bran. Sure. Siamus is definitely a lass's brother.
Atley scowls hatefully at every moving orc.
"Oh! Admiral Fallon, the lad who went out helpin' White Squad under the sea," Oranna says. Aha. She knows that guy.
Iphindra doesn’t mention from where she knows the guy, because she does not.
"I helped him out a bit up in Narthrend," Bran says idly.
"Did ye?" Shine looks at Bran.
"Aye!" Bran says, without giving further detail.
Shine nods.
"Tha's a shame about his boats then. I hope he finds his mind again, soon as he can," Oranna says, as she handles a cask of gun powder with expertise.
Atley sifts through some rubble to find another unbroken powder keg, tucking it under his arm. "That'll do. Let's get this to Flintlocke. Carve a path," he growls.
Shine carves a path.
"Are ye sure tha's enough?" Bran asks of the absurd amount of powder they have collected.
Atley scoffs briefly with amusement at Brannagen.
Flintlocke is waiting beside an enormous cannon. He grins at the squad.
"As ordered, Flintlocke," Atley remarks calmly.
“Ever been ta the Darkmoon Faire?” Flintlocke bellows above another zeppelin bombardment. He waves at the cannon beside him. “Same princerple, prob’ly approxermate as safe. Ye get in and we’ll launch ye at the zepperlin, and ye can fill ‘er with these kersplosives. We’ll blast ‘er outta the sky!”
Atley slowly slides his gaze to the giant cannon and back again.
Oranna stacks her gunpowder carefully, and then looks up at Flintlocke. "We're doin' whatnow with whathaveye?"
Bran chuckles.
Iphindra looks worriedly at Atley.
Atley gives Iphindra a reassuring glare as he tugs his helmet on.
Shine looks up at the zeppelin and then back at Flintlocke. "Why don't we… take gryphons? Up? To the zeppelin?"
"Aye, aye, what he said, why no' flying, like normal people who aren't gonna be able tae stop if we're jus' launched…inta… a ship?" Oranna asks.
"No imagernation!" bellows Flintlocke.
Bran watches the exchange with amusement, seeming to have no particular stake in how it all turns out.
"I've plenty of imagination. I'm imaginin' missing the ship and flyin' off inta space right now!" Oranna protests
"Too slow. They'll shoot us down 'fore we can get close," Atley adds. "I go first."
Flintlocke nods smugly and points at Atley. "In ye go, me lad!"
"I will g-go second!" Iphindra nods.
Atley nods at Iphindra and steps up to the cannon.
Iphindra stands behind Dane, close by.
"Dinna fash lass," says Bran to Oranna. "I'll keep ye in one piece!"
"Light above," Oranna mutters. "I'm gonna fash and I'm gonna fash third, I guess."
Atley growls quietly and climbs into the cannon.
Befound growls loudly and climbs into the cannon.
"WOO HOO!" cries Bran when it's his turn to be launched through the air.
Iphindra screams in silence as she is propelled in the air.
As he lands, Atley shield slams a goblin Skyshredder Crewmember directly over the edge. "Below decks!"
Shine manages to land surprisingly nimbly on the deck, but he winces. Then he stabs a goblin and looks like he feels better.
They head below decks.
"Oranna, Shine, plant the explosives," Atley says as he takes a moment to inspect his squadmates.
Shine crouches beneath the stairs to lay out explosives neatly. It doesn't matter how neat they are, Shine.
Oranna sets her explosives in good places, out of eyebrow range. "Wait, but if we explode this ship… we'll have ta be sure no to be on it."
Atley points at the back door. "That's our escape. On me!" He rushes off and tucks his arms in at the sides.
Bran shields people before they jump. He shields himself last and then jumps out with another "WOOHOOOOO!"
Bran lands in the water with the splash you'd expect from someone made mostly of rock.
Atley wrestles himself to the surface and shakes his head, helmet ponytail soaked. He looks between them, counting heads.
Iphindra dives from the ship and disappears below the surface for a moment, before swimming back up.
Bran also counts heads. Twice.
Oranna screams on the way down, and seems better once they're just in the water.
Shine comes up treading water and glances approvingly at Bran. "Thanks for the shields."
"My pleasure!" Bran replies to Shine.
Atley glances up to observe the cloud of debris where the zeppelin had once been. "Well done — !" he growls. "Back to Flintlocke."
Iphindra looks at the exploded zeppelin, all the flames and little pieces falling from the sky. "Beautiful…"
"Ach, I've missed bein' on a Cobalt Squad," Bran sighs happily.
Bran's implication seems to be that this is a day ending in Y for a Cobalt squad.
Shine might be quietly impressed.
Oranna squeezes out her long braid as they jog. But she keeps up with the longer-legged humans.
Atley lifts his helmet, dripping water. He grunts at Flintlocke.
Flintlocke is gazing dreamily in the direction of the flaming zeppelin’s crash. “Aye, fine work, fine work. The Wildhammer feller’s waiting for ye in the keep, better go see what he wants.”
"Wot' Wildhammer fellow?" Atley frowns.
Flintlocke gestures vaguely. "Tha big feller."
"The Thane?" Bran guesses.
Flintlocke shrugs. "Got a beard," he says helpfully.
Atley glares at Fargo but nods slowly. He glances between his fellows and grunts. "Remember our mission. We represent the Alliance. Best foot forward."
Iphindra looks at her feet before taking her next step to make sure this is the best one.
"I… well I walk naturally with right foot first, but my left… " Oranna clears her throat, flushing, as she pats down her wet tabard. Befound is a wet cat. She growls, licking at her coat with a baleful glare at Dane.
In the courtyard, a draenei woman in shaman’s robes is staring at a runed gateway arch. It is inert at present. She is muttering to herself anxiously.
Atley doubletakes the portal and the shaman before he continues upstairs.
A familiar red-bearded dwarf in Alliance blue and gold is pacing fretfully upstairs. He halts when he sees the Cobalt contingent, and breaks into a smile. “Well, well! If it isn’t Sir Atley and the team we were promised! You lot are a sight for sore eyes.”
Bran briefly sketches the room, focusing on the fancy rugs.
Atley growls with amusement. "Kurdran Wildhammer. You are well met, indeed."
Shine glances at Dane and then back to the Thane.
"Oh! Kurdran!" Oranna greets, waving. "It's good tae see ye again."
Kurdran grins at Oranna and bows to her. "Likewise, lassie!"
Oranna gives an awkward curtsy back, but she's smiling. Befound continues to groom herself, in the presence of any dwarf.
"Lo there!" Bran says cheerily.
Iphindra salutes Kurdran.
Shine salutes Kurdran. He looks him over and then looks at Oranna.
Bran just beams with general delight at all the things occurring.
Iphindra removes her cloak and offers Befound to wipe the water off of her with it.
"We trust you've left some fight for us to get into," Atley growls fondly.
Kurdran's smile fades. “Aye,” he sighs. “I was just dispatched meself from the Peak to see about winnin’ over the independent Wildhammer clans up here, but they’re… stubborn. And as ye can tell, we have more immediate troubles.
“The Horde ambush left our fleet in shambles. Our ultimate objective here is the stronghold the Twilights seem to be building in the western mountains, but at the moment the orcs have seen to it that we can’t even secure a landing zone ashore.
“If you lot could go across and report to Lieutenant Emry to lend him and his marines a hand, that would go a long way right now.”
Shine raises an eyebrow at the name.
Atley scowls and listens. "Consider it done." He salutes Kurdran.
Oranna waves cheerily back at Kurdan as they leave.
Atley looks to Shine and asks once they've left the chamber. "Know this Lieutenant Emry, do you?"
"Aye," says Shine. "Piece of work. You'll see."
Atley grunts.
"Oh aye?" Bran gets out his journal.
Shine looks down at Bran. He smiles faintly.
Bran is ready to document this piece of work.
"Tha' sounds bad," Oranna says. "Piece o' work workin' on somethin' like this…"
Atley begins passing out vials. "Drink up."
Iphindra drinks up, no questions asked.
Shine does the same.
"Wot's this?" Bran says of the vial.
"Wha' is this?" Oranna asks. She does not drink it yet.
Bran sniffs it. "Oh! Nice!" he says, seeming to recognize the smell.
"Water walking elixir," Atley growls. He pops the cork off of his own elixir before running onto the surface of the water.
"Oh." Oranna portions hers out to cover not just herself, but Befound, who does not want to drink.
Bran does a brief little jig on the water's surface, just because.
Iphindra giggles and does the same as Bran.
They walk across the water to the beach, where a group of Alliance marines are hunkered behind crude barricades as artillery fire from farther up the shore slams into the sand around them. Other marines are locked in combat on the open sand with orc soldiers in red and black.
A man in Alliance lieutenant’s uniform looks sharply at the approaching team. “Keep your heads down before you lose ‘em, you lot!” he barks.
Atley grunts and ducks his head. "Lieutenant Emry. Cobalt Company reporting." He salutes briefly, and discreetly.
Oranna ducks, watching the angles of the gunfire. "Ah, Light's sake…"
Iphindra kneels behind the barricades, plants that she carries around her strengthening it.
Bran is conveniently already barricade-height.
"Lieutenant," says Shine neutrally.
Emry eyes Shine. "Lieutenant," he says curtly.
Oranna is short enough to be fairly well covered by the barricades. They were clearly not made with dwarven snipers in mind.
Lieutenant Emry addresses the group. “Here’s the situation: This is MY beach. The Horde wants my beach. The Horde will not have my beach. Is the beach situation clear?”
Atley scoffs with amusement at Lieutenant Emry. "Loud and clear, marine."
Bran blinks at Emry. "Crystal clear, ser."
Lieutenant Emry nods once. “Good. The Axebite Marines are all up in my beach. I need you to make clear whose beach this is. Which means kill them.”
Oranna frowns at Emry. "Aye, we got tha'."
Atley grunts.
The Lieutenant points up the shore. “There’s a rise up there that commands a view of the whole shoreline. Scout it for us, and capture it if you can.” He looks the group over. “Those are your orders. Go!”
Oranna does not go. She looks to Dane, aiming another scowl at Emry.
Shine nods mildly at Emry and glances at Atley for an actual order.
"Cobalt, on me!" Atley booms, flinging himself over a barricade.
"I'm gonna mark that down as 'enthusiasm,'" Bran says once they're out of earshot.
"He– he was pretty rude," Iphindra says.
Bran gently pats Iphindra. "Never ye mind, lass."
"Shore," Oranna says. "Enthusiasm ta treat others like they've naught but air 'twixt their ears."
Bran chuckles at Oranna.
"I've found that marines are a bit touched, but they are our marines," Atley jokes dryly and innocuously, glancing at Shine.
Shine smiles faintly at Atley.
Axebite marines are meanwhile dying fast and bloodily on the sand where Blue Squad passes. A few weary Alliance marines nod or salute at the team.
Ahead they come to a small hill that rises from the beach.
"This'll be the objective," Atley growls.
"I got it," Oranna says, as she stands ready, scoping down expertly.
Atley points to the north. "Still live ones that way. Put 'em down!"
Blue Squad puts ‘em down while a team of Alliance marines moves in on the rise to plant a blue and gold flag. The marines immediately begin to raise barricades.
"Back to the Lieutenant," Atley orders, watching the Alliance flag rise. "And keep your bloody heads down! Horde have every inch of this beach sighted!"
Bran tags along behind Atley, seeming more like he's on his way to a picnic than dodging bombardments.
Oranna shoots as they go. Befound leaps away as a bombardment strikes the shore near her feet.
Atley raises his shield as a round lands nearby. He's blanketed in sand and ash.
Emry nods curtly at the returning team. It might be approval, it might not. He turns away to bark orders at the marines huddled behind the barricade with him.
Flintlocke is squinting up the beach. He whistles at the squad and waves. "Oi, Kobolds!"
"Cobalts," Oranna corrects. "It's a metal, no' a creature."
"Flintlocke," Atley greets.
"Wot're ye gonna shoot us out of this time?" Bran asks Flintlocke amiably.
Flintlocke laughs heartily. "Och, ef only! Wait, that gives me an idear — " He stops and stares for a moment, then shakes his head.
Atley narrows his eyes. Especially as another blast showers him with sand.
Oranna looks around for what they could possibly be shot out of. "Better no' be a crab…"
Bran laughs at Oranna, then quickly sketches Oranna being shot out of a giant crab-cannon.
Iphindra lets out a little sound of fear as he starts thinking.
Atley discreetly raises a hand to clasp Iphindra firmly on the shoulder, still staring at Fargo.
Befound stands closer to the open beach, between the shore and Oranna. Sand hits her coat. How v dare.
"The problem here is, them fellers are throwin' all manner of mess at us and we're low on our own kersplosions! Now, ye recall ye helped me with some siege engines afore?"
Atley grunts at Fargo Flintlocke. "Aye!"
Flintlocke gestures around them. "Ye note they're not here!! And I'll tell ye why! Terrain's terrible!"
Atley grunts quietly and twists the toe of his boot into the sand.
Iphindra traces a circle in the sand with her foot. The terrain's not that terrible!
"Lot of 'em got bogged down in the mirey bits to the west. Forternately, I saw a load o' goblin shredders clear-cuttin' over that way!" Flintlocke beams.
Shine looks to the west. He is clearly wondering how goblin shredders are fortunate.
Atley nods slowly at Fargo's line of thought, but keeps listening. He does grunt though.
"Clear cuttin'? Here?" Oranna asks, as she scopes in. "Ach, Light. He's righ'. They've a whole operation goin', lots of machinery."
"I reckon," says Flintlocke, rubbing his hands together, "ye knock over a bunch o' them shredders, pull out any important-lookin' bits, an' bring 'em to me! We'll rustle up some field repairs for our engines!"
Atley juts out his jaw, looking to Oranna at her report before he shifts his gaze back to Fargo. "We'll see to it."
"G-got it!" Iphindra nods.
"Damn straight," says Bran.
"Ah," says Shine. He nods and looks to Atley again.
"Who's volunteering as team engineer?" Atley asks somewhat wryly.
"I am an engineer," Shine says.
Atley grunts.
Oranna looks around. It's not her, that's for sure. "Ah, tha's handy."
"I could try!" Iphi says before hearing Shine. "You do it."
"Good!" Bran says, beaming at Shine.
Atley scowls at the destruction and charges one of the shredders. "Defensive perimeter while Shine finds wot's useful," he growls.
Shine prises open the chassis of the downed shredder and begins undoing wires and pulling pieces out deftly.
Bran watches Shine curiously, taking some notes.
Atley watches Shine in his periphery before inclining his head. "All done here?"
Shine rises to his feet. "Aye."
Atley points out another shredder.
Insects, vines and a powerful light work together to destroy a shredder from the inside.
Oranna keeps the perimeter.
"All in bad shape," Shine reports after disassembling yet another downed shredder. "We'll want a few to sort through."
Atley grunts.
Bran points to a bit of scrap Shine's holding. "Looks explosive, es et?" he inquires.
"Not if ye handle it right," Shine tells Bran dryly.
"Good thing we have ye on the job," Bran says, beaming.
Oranna laughs. "Aye, tha's the righ' spirit, Shine."
Bran chuckles.
Iphi chuckles as well.
“Pretty much any part of a goblin machine’s explosive,” Shine observes.
Atley grunts and looks to Shine as another shredder falls. "Greenskins." he says.
"Here," says Shine, stepping away from the broken shredder. "This should do."
Atley grunts. "Back to Flintlocke."
Iphindra follows the others, looking one last time at the devastated forest as they get back on the beach.
Oranna looks up sympathetically to Iphindra. "There, now, lass. It'll get better," Oranna says.
Atley side-eyes Iphindra. "With the greenskins thinned, the forest'll heal."
"I- I'll help, too!" Iphindra nods.
"We've salvaged wot' you need," Atley growls, showing faith in Shine's expertise.
Bran looks around. "Surprised this whole beach isn't glass yet," he observes mildly.
Shine approaches Flintlocke and offers out the parts. The dwarf accepts them in both hands and then drops most of them at his feet.
Shine winces.
Oranna takes a reflexive step back, just in case the machinery explodes.
Bran inches closer, in case the machinery explodes!
Flintlocke lifts one of the parts he's still holding and licks it. He nods thoughtfully. "Aye. This'll do 'er."
Atley squints at the licking of machinery.
Oranna looks aghast at Flintlocke. "He… he jus' licked it. Ye saw tha', right? I… he licked it."
Flintlocke holds the licked machine part out. Shine eyes it, then steps forward to take it back reluctantly.
"Tha' cannae be normal engineering," Oranna remarks skeptically.
Shine glances at Oranna and shakes his head minutely.
"Now," Flintlocke says. "Ye take these bits to our engines out there in the muck, and ye give 'em to our lads an' lasses, an' hold the perimeter while they do their repairs. Aye?"
"Aye!" Bran echoes.
Shine looks at Flintlocke and nods. That seems like surprisingly reasonable direction.
As they speak with Fargo, a turtle makes its way on the beach and moves slowly towards Iphindra. Iphindra looks at the animal with fear in her eyes. It can't get hurt by the explosions! She goes to pick up the turtle in her hands. It walks in the air.
Atley doubletakes Iphindra and her new turtle companion. His gaze lingers on her for a single second before he looks back to Fargo.
Atley grunts and nods. "Let's move."
Oranna glances over at Iphindra. "Ah, careful lass, wi' the turtle. It can stress them more bein' handled, and they're fragile," she says.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry!" Iphindra casts Soothe Animal onto the turle and continutes to hold it her hands. She must protecc. The turtle seems pretty chill there.
Bran sketches Iphindra and the turtle briefly.
Oranna looks like she might say more, but they have a job to do.
Atley jogs off towards the tankers.
"Engineers!" Atley greets. "We've got your components."
Bran waves.
"An' yer guns fer keepin' ye safe while ye… engineer or lick things," Oranna adds.
Bran bursts out laughing again at "lick things."
Iphindra learned so much about technology today. You are supposed to lick it.
A grease-smudged dwarf waves a wrench back at them. "Och, just in time! Breng 'em here! And keep those orcs off us!"
Atley grunts.
Oranna nods. She knows this rodeo.
"Form a perimeter! Equal out!" Atley yells.
Bran attempts to remain equidistant from everyone.
The dwarven engineers work urgently, swearing at one another and banging on things as orc commandos sprint from cover toward them.
Oranna's instincts are sharp, and her shots are sharper.
Atley beheads one charging orcish commando. The head shoots straight up and rolls away into the brush.
Shine appears behind an orc and cuts its throat coolly.
Iphindra blinks at the appearing Shine. She does not seem to mind the murder that follows, though.
The engineeers whoop as the tank rumbles to life.
Atley nods as the siege tank rumbles to life and bounces away. "Well done. We've got some armor on the field. Back to Flintlocke."
Iphindra and the turtle head back to Flintlocke.
"So does yer new friend there have a name?" Bran quietly asks Iphindra.
Iphindra shakes her head. "Animals do-don't give each other names like we do!"
Bran nods at Iphindra, understanding.
Atley informs Flintlocke, "We've got a tank up and running."
Flintlocke nods with satisfaction at the group. "Rocks n' stumps n' mud — bah! But at least we got some more kersplosions limpin' on their way!"
Atley grunts, right before he's splashed in the face with more sand.
Shine ducks back from the artillery sand-spray.
Befound grooms her coat. Unbelievable the horrors she has been subjected to today. She will file a complaint to HR. Oranna, do something about this.
Lieutenant Emry whistles sharply. "Oy! Blues!" he barks.
Atley boldly leans down to brush some sand off of the giant carnivore before Emry summons them. "Lieutenant."
Shine turns his head to regard Emry neutrally before following Atley over.
"It's jus' some sand, lass. I'll brush ye later," Oranna mutters to her leopard. "An' it's COBALTS," she corrects more loudly.
Bran grins at Oranna.
"I-I can brush her, if you want!" Iphindra says, still holding the turtle.
Oranna blinks up at Iphindra. "Ach, no. She's… she's no' tame, lass. She lets me do it because we've a bond, but she's no' pet ta be brushed by someone she's no' well known ta. Sorry, lass."
"Aye, better leave the groomin' ta Boomer,” says Bran. “The spotted lassie's likely ta make a snack of yer hand."
Iphindra nods. She is used to petting wild animals but Befound is not a wild animal.
Lieutenant Emry points toward the shredder-infested western woods. "While you lot were out there, some of the lads here saw a gryphon tumble out of the clouds due west. Not one of ours. Likely it belonged to one of the local Wildhammer. I know Kurdran wanted to establish contact.” He looks Bran and Oranna over. “You look like the team for the job.”
Atley squints west before he nods and grunts. "Let's move."
Shine looks at Oranna and Bran as well, and then back at Emry. He nods to Atley.
Oranna tries to look like she's the team for the job. She helps this by rolling up the sleeve around her forearm, revealing intricate Wildhammer tattoos covering her forearms.
"Nice," Shine says under his breath to Oranna.
Oranna looks up at Shine, and gives him a warm smile. "Thanks. They're from… well. I was tae be married ta a Wildhammer. They're fer him. In memory."
Shine’s one-eyed gaze softens and he nods.
Atley grunts. "Stay sharp. Still riddled with greenskins."
"I can find the trail," Oranna says, attempting confidence.
Bran's gaze sweeps over the landscape; it's not clear what he's seeing, but it is definitely not the giant shredder in front of him.
Iphindra barely dodges a saw coming her way, thanks to a warning from the bees and butterflies fluttering around her hair.
Atley squints at the landscape. "You see somming', say it."
Oranna surveys the landscape, looking at trees. "Dane! Tha' way," she directs. "Branches hit by somethin' comin' down at an angle."
"…an' a dragon," Oranna warns. "In the distance. Caught the wings."
Atley grunts. "One bridge at a time."
A black-bearded dwarf with blue tattoos on his bald scalp is crouched by a gryphon that lies curled on the ground making soft, distressed keening sounds. The dwarf looks up hopefully at the group’s approach, and then his expression turns dour.
"Hail, stranger," Atley greets the downed Wildhammer. "We've come to lend our aid."
Oranna waves at the Wildhammer man, grimacing at the sight of the gryphon. "Ah… no… injured badly, from the looks of it."
Bran casually tosses heals at both of them.
The gryphon does not respond to the heals.
“Ah, crap it all,” says the dwarf. “You’re more of those bloody Alliance. I was hoping for a rescue.”
Atley makes a discreet show of raising empty hands. "You'll have to make do with us, I warrant." he sternly tells the dwarf.
The dwarf sighs irritably. “Well, fine. Look here. Me bird’s on her last legs, and if she dies, I’m as good as worthless. So if ye want to make yourselves useful, ye can get out there in the trees and dig us up some thorny stankroots.”
Bran brightens. "Stankroot es et? Been a long time since I worked with any o' tha'."
The tattooed dwarf nods once. “The smell will knock ye back, but they’ll go a long way toward righting poor Lightning here.” He eyes the squad sourly. “Hurry and get ‘em while I stay to defend me bird. You Alliance wanks don’t exactly have a reputation for timely intervention, aye?"
Oranna glances from Dane to the dwarf. "I'm Oranna, Oranna Stormbreaker. An' if we get ye and yer bird out here safe, tha's timely enough, isn't it?"
The dwarf eyes Oranna dourly and grunts. "I'll say it when I see it, lass."
"Yer no' the only one who has needed help, but we're here now, and we are helpin'," Oranna says. "Ye'll see."
"Two of us are competent h-healers too!" Iphindra says, holding a turtle.
The dwarf looks even dourer at the sight of Iphindra's turtle. He shakes his head.
Atley grunts and looks to Iphindra. "Let's move."
"Ye'll quickly see why it's nae the FERST choice fer healin' potions," Bran informs them, as he points out some of the thorny, stanky plant.
Befound sniffs it once, sneezes, and then gives them a wide, wide berth.
Atley reaches down to rip it out before he hesitates. "Iphindra."
"May I handle the pla– thank you!" Iphindra beams.
Shine looks relieved when Iphindra volunteers, and steps back discreetly.
"No one's gonna fight fer the right ta touch tha' stuff, Blossom," Bran says with a chuckle.
Atley scoffs with amusement. "The Terror certainly won't." he says, glancing at Befound.
Iphindra kneels down. The whole root leaves the earth and wraps around Iphindra's arms and around the turtle, which now has a little crown of stinky roots. The plant is alive and well, just not in the ground anymore.
Atley eyes Iphindra before he nods slowly, and appraisingly. "Well done, lass," he growls.
Iphindra beams again. She is being useful for Cobalt Company!
"Alright, but sayin' it's no' the FIRST choice implies it's another number down th' line of healin' potions," Oranna says. "How far does it usually rank fer ye, askin' fer a friend. Me. I'm the friend."
"I'd put it around… seventh choice, personally," says Bran. "It's quite effective ta be honest, but there are much, much less odorous alternatives," he explains.
"Righ'. I'll be sure ta ask if ye've yer sixth and up then, next time." Oranna nods. Mental note made.
The group is constantly accosted by Diamond-Blade Shredders and lone Axebite Marines as they wander among the trees in search of stankroot.
Shine seems to take great, if grim, personal satisfaction in materializing behind orcs to murder them tidily.
Oranna does well, as long as Dane keeps the orcs from being up close and personal, which he does.
"Phew!" Bran says, waving his hand dramatically in front of his nose as Iphindra obtains another stankroot. "Smells like me sister took her boots off!"
Atley growls with amusement and shakes his head.
Shine almost laughs at Bran. Whoa.
"I-it's important for some plants to have a strong smell." Iphindra explains. "I-it's not like your sister's boots!"
"True, Blossom, I should never insult an innocent plant like tha'."
"Well, unless she's treatin' her feet with the things, out o' lack of the top six," Oranna points out.
Bran chuckles. "Mura dinna bother ta wash her feet, much less treat whatever ails 'em."
"How much d'ye suppose we need?" Shine asks. He does not sound plaintive at all, not even a little.
"As much as Iphindra can carry," Atley says.
Shine eyes Iphindra.
Iphindra is almost covered in stinky plants from head to toe. They mix with the sweet scented flowers that cover her. "I can do m-more!"
Atley grunts.
Oranna eyes the growing plant monster totally normal elf. "Ah… it's no'… there's no sentience in the plants, right? Yer no'… turnin' inta anythin' like a swamp creature or…"
Bran eyes Iphindra curiously.
Shine looks like he had not considered this possibility but is considering it now. Impassively.
"I've seen druids turn inta trees…" Bran muses.
"I've seen my fair share of druid trees myself, aye," Oranna agrees.
"No, I j-just share some… Life magic with them so they move a little more than they're used to and they have the nutriments they need while they're with me!" Iphindra smiles. "I will he-help them go back to the soil when they have helped!"
"F'course you will. That'll be enough. Let's return." Atley says.
Oranna nods. "Shore. Tha'… makes sense, I'm sure," she says. "In a druid way."
The turtle does happy turtle noises from under the plant monster that is now Iphindra.
Turtles do indeed make noises. I Googled it.
"If Blossom turns inta stankroot though, I may have ta reconsider taggin' alongside her," Bran says with faux solemnity.
"R-really?" Iphindra's ears droop.
"Awww, I was just teasin, lass!" Bran pats her.
The dwarf looks up and wafts a hand in front of his face as the group returns. "Whew!"
"We've gathered the root," Atley explains, nodding to Iphindra. "He's taking the piss — having a laugh," he mutters, explaining to the druid.
“Oh, well, that’s the stuff all right! Not bad, not too bad.” The dwarf crouches down again to offer the roots to his wounded gryphon, who takes them listlessly from his hand. After a few moments, though, she lifts her head. Her eyes are brighter.
The dwarf sits back, looking satisfied. “Aye, look! She’s perkin’ up already.” He squints up at the group. “All right, ye blue fancy-pantses. Is that your base on the island across the way? Ye reckon me and my bird can hunker down there while she recovers?"
"Aye!" Bran agrees happily.
"'Course," Oranna says. "Ye'll be in good hands."
Atley grunts and nods slowly at the gryphon before he looks back to Thordun. "You're most welcome. Wot's your name, Wildhammer?"
"Thordun Hammerblow," the dwarf says gruffly, and rises as his gryphon does, one hand on her neck to steady her. "Easy does it, lass!"
"We'll meet you there, then." Atley says.
Thordun nods. "Aye. Obliged to ye."
"See ye soon!" says Bran warmly.
Atley looks back to his comrades. "On foot. Swiftly." He turns and jogs back to the keep.
Shine goes on foot. Swiftly.
Oranna keeps up with the humans. Befound also keeps up, but in a lazy way that suggests she could be going much faster if not for the limitations of people legs.
As they run back, the plant monster that is now Iphindra stops every few steps to help one of the roots go back into the earth, safely.
Bran makes little sketches as he walks, somehow managing not to run into anyone.
Atley turns to keep an eye on Iphindra each time but he doesn't protest.
Oranna eyes Iphindra. That's… normal. Oranna has probably seen weirder. Nothing is coming immediately to mind, but definitely.
Atley grunts at his comrades. "Finish off those elixirs." He does as he says and runs across the water.
"Back to Kurdran, you lot," Atley directs as they return.
Bran salutes Kurdran Wildhammer with respect.
Atley salutes Kurdran Wildhammer.
Kurdran looks up from some maps on the table and straightens, grinning. "Cobalts!"
Iphindra salutes Kurdran. She smells very bad.
Oranna waves again. She is less wet and bedragled now that she's had a brisk walk through the forest. Now she is muddy.
Bran is just an entire mess.
Kurdran does not seem to notice any mess. "I heard ye lent a hand to a Wildhammer gryphon-rider on shore. That's a promising first contact wi' the old clans. We'll find out who's still left and in what numbers, and know where to aim first. Campaign's looking up, thanks to you!"
Atley inclines his head. "We're here to serve."
Bran beams at Kurdran's praise.
Iphindra lets the turtle walk freely in the room. It mostly keeps to her side, but sometimes venture furthers, curiously.
Kurdran also does not seem to notice the turtle.
"Now," says Kurdran. "If ye can do one more thing for us? The location makes it… tricky to dispatch a group of our lads, but a squad like yours can probably slip up there no problem."
Atley glares with determination at Kurdran. "Say the word."
Oranna does look like she could slip places. She looks nervous about slipping on places, mostly. Like, what if she slipped off a cliff?
Kurdran nods. "Ye may have noticed the gate downstairs. The gate that's not workin'. The shamans have been tryin' to open an elemental portal, but they report there's some… interference from the west. Probably the Twilight stronghold."
Bran nods, taking notes.
Atley squints and nods slowly.
Oranna looks north. Maybe she thinks that's West?
"E-elemental portal?" Iphindra asks.
"Like the ones in Stormwind," Shine murmurs to Iphindra. "On the isle there."
"I'm told, though,” says Kurdran, “that there are some whitewater elementals at the mouth o' the river north of here whose cores may contain enough wild magic to power it."
Atley nods. "We can see to that."
Shine nods at Atley.
"Ye'll find ye pass close by the Horde stronghold up there. That's the trouble I mention. So have a care." Kurdran looks grim.
Atley inclines his head and sets his jaw. "Very well. Let's get to it, you lot."
Oranna looks determined, her tattoos visible around the mud as she grips her rifle. "Righ'."
As they run along the shoreline, Atley glances north and scowls at the Horde fortress. "Wot's that, then. They've dragon wings posted?"
Oranna looks through her scope.
"Dragonmaw," says Shine curtly. He's also staring toward the fortress.
"A famously wretched lot of orcs," Atley growls.
"Lightning and dragons in the distance," Oranna says.
"These'll be the elementals, I warrant," Atley says, focusing on the delta ahead. He engages them.
Oranna watches the storm in the distance between shots at the elementals. "I mislike the look o' that storm, Dane. It doesna feel right."
Atley shakes his head but in agreement. "Keen eyes. I'm of the same mind. Something's wrong with this place."
Shine watches the storm as well, but does not comment.
"Well. I'm a Stormbreaker, so at least I've got the name qualifications," Oranna says, half nervous, half confident.
Atley grunts. "Wot'ever it is, we'll measure up to it."
Bran plays in the mud. His robes are already ruined.
Atley flashes Bran a stern look.
Bran just grins back at him.
Befound steps around the mud. Another complaint to HR. Oranna rolls her eyes.
Shine kicks a water elemental to stop it from flinging a waterbolt at Atley. How does that work? No one knows.
Bran experiments with bonking water elementals with his staff.
Iphindra goes splish splash in the water. She giggles.
Atley stomps around in the water. Gruffly.
Shine moves alarmingly quietly even in the water, hardly disturbing it. It's kind of uncanny.
Bran made a really, really poor decision in wearing a white robe today.
"My mind is drawn to something a Wildhammer dwarf told me in the Second War. S'always stuck with me, and speaks of their culture," Atley growls.
"Aye?" Shine looks at Atley.
Iphindra listens attentively.
"'If you're in complete control of your gryphon, you're not going fast or hard enough.'" Atley growls fondly, eyes growing wistful as he loses himself to an earlier time for a brief moment.
Shine does actually laugh at that, quietly. He nods approval.
Oranna trudges grimly through the water, as she looks up at Dane. "Oh, aye, I've heard tha' one afore. They've the Wild in the Wildhammer."
Bran chuckles.
"That they have," Atley agrees. "We'll make friends of them."
Iphindra nods. But since you're never fully in control of an animal, any speed is okay! That is a comforting thought.
"Kul Tiras owes them, from that war," Shine observes. "Be glad to help with 'em now."
Atley gives Shine a thoughtful look before he nods slowly.
Oranna looks up at Shine. "Aye, I know th' feelin'. Feel the same way about the Alliance. They did us a fine turn in the Second War."
Shine nods at Oranna.
The turtle goes splish splash in the water by Iphindra’s side.
"Keeping that, are you?" Atley asks mildly of Iphindra.
Iphindra shakes her head. "I'm waiting to find a go-good place near the beach without explosions to set he-her free!"
Atley grunts in response.
Atley counts over their elemental cores. "Right. That ought to be enough. Back to the keep, you lot. Earning it today," Atley growls, referencing their excessive running.
"I'm gonna eat like a gryphon t'night," Bran observes.
Atley grunts.
Iphindra nods. She will too. She will eat seeds too.
The draenei in the courtyard steps forward to greet the returning squad hopefully. "You! Yes, you?"
Oranna points at herself. "Me?"
The draenei nods earnestly at Oranna.
Befound strides forward confidently. It's always Her.
"Aye, milady?" Atley asks, approaching. He is sweaty, muddy, and there's not an insignificant amount of orc blood on him.
"Lo there!" says Bran cheerfully to the draenei lass.
Bran's white robe is gray-brown with mud, and his hair and beard look like a botany experiment.
The turtle seems particularly targeted by the Draenei, for whatever reason. At least, the turtle itself feels like it. It asks for uppies from Iphindra, and she obliges. She is holding the turtle again. It walks in the air.
The woman looks from face to face anxiously. "You are the ones the Wildhammer sent for the river cores?"
Atley nods once. "Aye, and you must be the shaman. Hand your cores over, you lot."
Shine hands his cores over.
Atley offers his own collected cores.
"Oh, aye, we are," Oranna answers as well. She hands over a clump of water elemental cores. They are also helpfully covered in mud. "Sorry, there was… mud."
"H-here!" Iphindra struggles to hand over the cores as she holds the turtle, but she manages to do it without breaking anything!
Oranna watches the turtle-juggling nervously, almost reaching out to take one or the other before she visibly pulls herself back.
The draenei's expression floods with relief as she gathers up the cores. "Thank you! Thank you. Just a moment." She hurries to her colleagues at the courtyard's edge and a discussion ensues before they return to the gate in a group.
The shamans parcel out the elemental cores among themselves and fan out around the gate to arrange totems. They stand poised in silence for a moment.
There is a prickling sense of power rising in the air, and then lightning crackles abruptly in a chain from core to core among the shamans and leaps inward from each of them to strike the arch. The runes inscribed around it kindle, and the portal gate hums to life. Through it, a view of Stormwind shimmers.
"Aha!" the draenei woman crows. "There! Now we have portal." She beams.
Oranna squints at the portal. "Tha's Stormwind alrigh'," she says, stating the obvious.
Befound huffs an annoyed feline sound as she sits and starts grooming her paws. They have an unsavory mix of blood and mud on them. Have fun with that later, Oranna.
Atley nods slowly with relief and strokes his beard. He inclines his head to the shamans with respect. "Blue Squad, on me."
Oranna glances once more at the portal, and then jogs to catch up with Dane.
"A triumphant day. Squarely earned. We've many enemies in this place, and many potential friends, also. This is no simple task ahead of us, but we are cut out for it. If you're to venture off this island into the Highlands, bring another. Move in pairs. We've pushed the front line forward, but it's still a war zone. I'll linger here for a time to make certain we're stable, but for now, you lot are officially dismissed." Atley says.
Bran cheerfully salutes.
Atley returns it.
Shine nods at Dane. "I'll be staying as well, sir," he says. "If anyone needs me." He steps back, nods to the group, and heads into the keep.
Iphindra nods at the potential friends part. They have a turtle friend, now. "I-I will find a beach with no explosions for her!"
Atley grunts at Iphindra and rakes a hand through his damp hair.
Oranna looks over at Dane. "I… I always move in a pair," she says, gesturing to Befound. "Tha's… gonna be easy then, I guess."
Atley shakes his head at Oranna. "Another one of us," he clarifies.
Befound looks up from her grooming with a growl. She has never been so insulted in all her feline life, Atley. Oranna tsks her tongue. "I know what I'm doin', Dane," she says gently.
"This rule applies to every one of us. A native Wildhammer was downed in his own country, in the company of his own gryphon. It's not safe,” Atley says.
"I'll obey yer orders on squad, as always, but on my own time, I know how to go about," Oranna says.
Atley lifts a bushy brow and regards Oranna skeptically.
"She's made it this long," Bran notes. "I'm gonna go wash up a bit, and then possibly eat an entire ram."
Atley grunts at Brannagen.
"If ye have a mind ta make a rule about us on our free time, I'll need tae hear it from Jo herself that it's Company policy now," Oranna says.
"I-I would be happy if you could come with me find a place f-for the turtle, Oranna!" Iphindra says, trying to pivot the mood of the conversation slightly.
"If you've a mind to ask Jocoza to venture into the Twilight Highlands by your lonesome, you are welcome to. If she overrides my opinion, then I'll accept her decree. A native Wildhammer dwarf almost lost his gryphon today, over his own country. It's unwise to assume you would fare any better by yourself." Atley says.
"I know ye're used ta giving orders, lad, but Dane, ye canna keep doin' the ordering fer the off hours. I canna obey ye all the time. It's my choice on my time," Oranna insists.
"Do wot'ever you like in regions that Cobalt Company isn't stationed in. I've no bearing on your personal affairs, but this is a warzone. It's not about wot' I'm used to, this is about common sense." Atley explains.
"If I choose ta go off ta Ironforge or down ta Deepholm, it's my choice on my time. If I want ta follow common sense, I will. But ye've been orderin' like this since Deepholm," Oranna says. "When I'm on squad, I will follow an order. But not off duty."
"Ironforge and Deepholm are not zones that Cobalt Company have been assigned to. The squad has been deployed here. Not you, not me, not Iphindra. All of us."
Iphindra begins to stroke her braid, a little nervously. It gets worse as her name is mentioned suddenly. Why her? What did she do? Help!
"I'll take yer advice if I find it sound, but not an order, tha's what I mean, Dane. Ye did it ta Cress and I in Deepholm as well. Once we're dismissed, that's my time ta make my own call," Oranna says. "Tha's the rules as I understand them."
Atley looks to Oranna for a moment in thought. "You're welcome to bring it to the Captain. I will hold no ill will. This is a war zone, and we're in the middle of a precarious diplomatic situation, not to mention how bloody dangerous it is out there. There'll be no waging ahead of the squad in the Highlands," he states.
Oranna sighs. "Dane, if ye've advice fer the place is one thing. But ye dinna say as advice. Ye say it like an order, of what ta do. If ye think I need ta talk to Jo about it, I will. I know it's dangerous. I'll take my own precautions, but it's my call."
"I-I feel like maybe Oranna doesn't plan on doing anyhing dangerous, sir," Iphindra nods. "Sh-she just doesn't like the way you said what you said."
"Jo chose me ta be here because she trusts what I can do. I've done this afore, with winning over dwarven allies, and I know what I'm doin'. And I know ye want us safe, but ye canna order me around on my own time, Dane," Oranna says.
"This isn't an unreasonable request. Iphindra herself just offered to accompany you. The pair of you together would be safe enough." Atley says. "You would have reason to complain if I ventured into the Highlands by my lonesome, but I will not. The Twilight Highlands aren't a personal space for any one of us. We were dispatched here on behalf of Cobalt, as a squad. Do wot' you like in Ironforge, however you like it."
"No more 'ye have ta go home' or 'ye will do this or that' at the end of a day. I'd complain as a friend but I wouldna order ye about with it," Oranna points out. "Ye can suggest what ye think is best without making it an order, Dane."
Atley calmly shakes his head. "I said you were officially dismissed from Cobalt duties for the day, I did not tell you you had to go anywhere. Shine explained he was staying as well, and I did not interject."
The turtle is feeling that there is a little bit of tension, especially coming from Iphi. It does not want uppies anymore. The elf puts it back on the ground, and the turtle just goes to chill in another corner of the courtyard for a bit.
Atley briefly looks to the turtle, and then back to Iphindra with a small nod, before returning his gaze to Oranna.
"Ye told us we had to be in pairs, and ye've told me afore ta go off the field, and where ta go, after we're done. I'm jus' speakin' up that it's time ta stop orderin' when I'm off duty. I have things ta see to, now. I've folk ta talk to tha' I know," Oranna says. She waves at Iphindra and Dane. "I'll see ye next week."
Atley grunts, and watches her leave, before he turns on Iphindra. "I'm of a mind to see that little one returned to safety," he says. "Which is to say, I'd like to accompany you, if the offer remains."
"Of course!" Iphindra beams. "I-I'd be happy to have company on the way b-back!" Iphindra fetches the turtle.
"I'll defer to your expertise." Atley glances at the turtle. "I'm not familiar with wot' this beast prefers."
Iphindra looks at the turtle. "We j-just need to find a beach nearby where there's no explosions."
Atley glares in thought. "Let's get to the top of the battlement. See wot' we can find, mm?"
Iphindra nods, picking up the turtle for maximum speed.
Atley points. "Look there. See that strand of beach? Seems untouched."
Iphindra jumps on top of the balustrade, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun. "Hmmm…"
Atley keeps squinting out over the horizon.
Iphindra shows it to the turtle, which makes turtle noises.
"It's perfect! Do you still have water walking potions?" Iphindra tilts her head.
Atley nods and grunts.
"Great!" Iphindra jumps off the parapets and slides down the wooden structure on the keep, with the turtle carefully placed on her head. Vines make sure the turtle can't fall off from Iphindra by grabbing it gently.
Atley scoffs faintly with amusement and leans back.
From down below, Iphindra calls to Atley: "A-are you coming?"
Atley leans over the wall. "… I'll be with you in a moment!" he calls down before he actually uses the stairs like a Boring Human.
"I've noticed you're not much of a shape shifter," Atley explains, offering Iphindra an elixir.
Iphindra giggles as she joins her, then gets serious at his question. "I just n-never learned. I can't shapeshift into anything… I'd love to turn into a tree l-like you mentioned earlier!"
Atley nods slowly. "Looks like you're nearly there already," he observes dryly, nodding at the vines, before he leaps onto the surface of the water.
"Mmmh…" Iphindra tilts her head. "I-I don't know. Maybe? My vines are more like… the plants in the hair of dryads!"
"You've spent more time 'round them than your own kin, then," Atley observes, or questions?
Iphindra pauses, looking up. She then nods. "I-I don't know. I have no memories of not living wi-with them."
Atley faintly lifts his bushy brows with his regular glare. "Raised by them, then."
Iphindra strokes the purple strand in her braid. "I must have had a-a life before them, I mean. I just have no memories. Only… feelings from before. Feelings of doing something bad."
Atley grunts. "Don't warrant they took you as a child, do you. Doesn't seem to be the nature of the dryads."
"No, they wouldn't!" Iphindra is shocked at the idea.
Atley growls with faint amusement at her surprise. "F'course not." He glances around at the beach, eyes following a roaming shore crab. "Wot' do you make of this for the little one, then?"
Iphindra, with the purple strand of her, looks a little more like the almost ghost-like 'Iphindra' Atley may have seen in the Emerald Dream, who was a little colder and rude. She kneels down, placing the turtle on the sand. "Here?"
Atley grunts. "You're the druid." He squints studiously at her.
The turtle makes happy turtle noises, then waddles close to Iphindra, then Dane, saying goodbye to the two.
Atley lifts his brows and glances down at the turtle with gruff fondness. "Right. There you are, then."
Iphindra looks at Dane, smiling. They found the right place. The turtle moves towards the sea, looks at them one last time, and disappears under the water.
"Ought to grow a great deal bigger, I warrant," Atley growls.
"Th-thank you for the help with her!" Iphindra nods. "She will be much safer here!" She tilts her head. "Hmmm, maybe. I don't know th-the species here, so I'm not sure!"
Atley inclines his head. "Of course." He glances at Iphindria. "Wot' drew you to Cobalt Company?"
Iphindra answers without a single moment of hesitation. "I-I wanted to explore Azeroth! See all the life it has!" She beams. "And I heard there were heroes like you doing so while helping others, so I knew I wan– I wanted to join! Even in Northrend, I was happy to go. To see the life hidden under the death and the snow."
Atley peers at her for a long moment. "I'm no hero, nor am I trying to be. My role is to kill my enemies, and protect my allies. I have served alongside many heroes, however."
Iphindra shakes her head. "Everyone who joins and helps with Cobalt Company is a hero." She tilts her head. "If not, what made you join, if not wanting to help those who need it?"
Atley grunts at her response, and takes a moment. "I wanted to find something worth fighting for, and I believed in Lord Ference. As you say, it's taken me to many strange places."
"And you found it, or you would have left already," Iphindra says. He has no choice. She is putting words in his mouth right now.
Atley growls with amusement. "That'd be the short of it, aye." He glances off to his right. "This land will need a great deal of healing after we're through here."
Iphindra nods. "A-and I will do my best while we are here!" Iphi smiles. "But maybe another place will call for our help, too, as a Company, and I will leave the Twilight Highlands in the hands of others who will make their mission to heal it!
"I-I can't heal everything everywhere all at once, unfortunately," she adds.
Atley grunts. "War's made upon us on many fronts." he agrees, before he juts his head in a nod towards Highbank. "Let's return."
Iphindra nods. "Yo-you're right! It is a war zone, after all, as you said in the keep!"
Atley grunts. "That's a dryadic spear, innit'?" He turns to walk over the ocean, again.
Iphindra nods. "I al-always keep this gift of the dryads with me!"
"Where's the tribe you hail from located?" Atley asks as they return to Highbank.
"Ashenvale! But I h-have also spent some time in Hyjal, now." Iphi pauses. "Where are you from?"
Atley admires a stone sculpture. "I was born in the Redridge Mountains of Stormwind, but I came of age in Lordaeron."
Iphindra's ears droop as she remembers what she's learned of Lordaeron. "I'm sorry."
Atley grunts his thanks. "My heart bleeds for Lordaeron, forever, but at this point, not one of us is a stranger to tragedy, mm?"
Iphindra tilts her head,holding her hands together, trying to think of someone who is a stranger to tragedy.
"Y-you have children, right?" Iphindra says. "They have not known tragedy. … I hope."
Atley shakes his head, eyes still on the sculpture. "Aye. Two little ones." He scoffs with amusement. "My son knows the tragedy of stolen socks, thanks to our hound, but little beyond that. It's inevitable that in time something will break his heart, and that of my daughter, but I will do wot' I can to make sure they're guarded from the troubles we've known in our time."
"I hadn't known anything bad for centuries. I only discovered horror l-last year," Iphindra frowns a little. Remembering the feeling sends shivers down her spine. "There is hope that th-the work we do here will protect them."
Atley turns to squint at her inquiringly. "The Scourge War?" he asks, of her recently discovered horror.
"Yes and n-no," Iphindra shrugs slightly. "I don't see the undead as ho-horrific. But… do you remember the crystals that they made, to feel horror, despair and suffering?"
Atley squints with disagreement at her initial statement before he nods once. "I do."
Iphindra looks to the side. "I sto-stole some, and tried the horror one on myself." She shrinks down in fear of how he'll react to that. "But wi-with help of a priest friend, so it was okay!"
Atley narrows his eyes. "Why would you do such a thing."
Iphindra panics a litlle. "B-because I didn't know how to react to such strong negative emotions! They could kill me!" Iphindra's hand twitch in nervousness. "I-I-I needed to know them, so I could fight them and be-become stronger!"
Atley cinches one hand in his belt while the other strokes his beard in thought. "As a method of exposure, then."
Iphindra nods.
"There's wisdom in that, especially with a priest. And strength too," Atley commends.
"I-I remember we weren't allowed to touch these crystals. Y-you said so. B-but It was too important." Iphindra nods again, almost trying to persuade herself still. "I-I didn't listen to orders because I knew what was best… for me."
Atley deadpans her for a long moment in silence.
"Which is like today with…" she begins to add, but doesn't finish her thought out loud. Her mind is screaming 'Oranna', though.
"I cannot force obedience, no more than I can force respect. I do not give my orders absent-mindedly. This isn't the army, and our ways aren't so rigid, but we are a part of a command structure." Atley says.
"I-I know, and I follow them… often!" Iphindra bites her upper lip. "And I think what you told us to do today was very wise!" She shrugs nervously. "B-but I heard you and Oranna have been in squads a lot, and for a long time, right?"
Atley grunts. "From the beginning."
Iphindra nods. "Th-then she must have been… hurt that you thought she would be careless after all this time." She looks at Dane with wide doe-eyes. "I-I think now, all she asks is that what you tell her to do outside of our duties be said as a friend and equal, n-not as a chief."
Atley strokes his chin in thought. "P'raps. You're not saying anything unreasonable. If I had singled her out amongst the five of us and placed boundaries on her, only, that would be an insult and a clear questioning of her competence, but I didn't. We weren't brought to the Twilight Highlands for personal reasons. Each of us were summoned here to represent Cobalt Company, and we do that whether we've the tabard on or not. It's not safe out there for any one person. Wherever she goes, wot'ever she does elsewhere is of no business of mine, indeed, but for better or for worse, I have been assigned as squad leader for our efforts in Twilight Highlands, and my order stands."
"I-I agree! It's not safe alone, here, for now," Iphindra says. "I-I just think she felt targeted here b-because she didn't feel like it was the first time you gave her such orders. I… think she doesn't even want to go out there alone. Just… that she felt you were telling her what to do as a superior in moments wh-where she wasn't under your orders."
Atley sets his jaw. "I'm not superior to anyone in the Company. I've given orders over the years, and followed them. Oranna is allowed to disagree with my choices. She can range all she likes in the Highlands, if she brings another squad member."
"I-I understand, and I will do my b best to keep an eye out and go with her if she leaves to explore," Iphindra nods. "I-I just think she doesn't w-want you to be a squad leader outside of squad moments, too."
"That is fair request, and by my reckoning I've done that. I'm not a squad leader in my home, and I don't know, nor need to know where she is now. But our squad has been assigned to the Twilight Highlands, and I see squad members activities here as something under my authority while our work is in place. Deepholm, Uldum, are no longer concerns of mine as we are not stationed there. We are stationed here."
"Th-then I think having Captain Jocoza send a letter to everyone to say that would be good, as she said she would obey this if Jocoza said so," Iphindra says. "I feel v-very honored I was picked for this mission, and I am sure Oranna does too. So I don't want her t-to be punished for orders she thought weren't fair to begin with in a-any way!"
Atley shakes his head. "Nor am I eager to deal out punishment to someone I call a friend. If you ever find my orders to be unjust or inappropriate, you are welcome to supersede me and speak to the officers. I understand your intent, to bring harmony and provide me with another perspective. I shall keep it in mind, but for now, I stand by my order."
Iphindra bows her head. "I-I never wanted you to change it. Just… wanted to try to un-understand what she felt, together.
Atley eyes her up and down. "That's one of your strengths. I could see that the tension was uncomfortable for you, and I sympathize. I trust you'll always speak your mind to me, during squad time or when we're dismissed, such as now."
"I will,” Iphindra answers, smiling.
"I should go, now!" she says. "Thank you for the help with the turtle! You are a great leader, and kind too. I will see you for our next mission!"
Atley extends a hand.
Iphindra looks at it for a moment, unsure if it is an handshake or high five moment. She tentatively goes for a handshake.
Atley gives her a firm handshake and nods before he marches off to a nearby tower.
Iphindra shakes his hand, looks at him leaving and smiles, before running to a nearby building.