(2025-09-03) Hints of Trouble in Arathi Highlands

Details

Author:	Alli
Summary:	Arric, Corvin and Maisha head up north and spend time scouting the Arathi Highlands, trying to uncover whatever the Syndicate is planning. The picture may not be fully clear yet, but they find several key new pieces to the puzzle. ~5200 words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Arc: Struggles of Stromgarde

There may only be three hunters in the group that passes over the now-secured Thandol Span into Arathi Highlands, but three hunters means far more than three living things. Maisha walks beside her gryphon, Stormquill, with the pinkish-red raptor Bael stalking at her side. Corvin has been jumping at shadows as they get closer to the Highlands, and the small fox that darts around his ankles isn't helping.

Corvin stops just as they step off of the bridge, onto the softer dirt of the Highlands, and turns to Maisha and Arric. "Maybe we can pause here, decide on our routes."

Arric adds three more to the party, between himself, his constant companion Rica the juvenile raptor, and a new bird companion: some species of white parrot with lemon-yellow markings.

"I wish I had advice to offer about where to search," said Arric, "but in my previous wanderings I found nothing particularly useful, other than Halo here." He gestures to the bird.

"I can take to the air," Maisha suggests, with an affectionate glance towards Stormquill. "I've finally proven m'self responsible enough, it seems. Got my flying license fer Alliance territories. I could leave Bael with Rica, he'll be no trouble. And Halo's native here?" Maisha peers curiously at the parrot.

"I can… direct us where to search," Corvin says reluctantly, turning away towards the northwest. "Where the Syndicate is likely to be. That is, if it hasn't changed much in the past year or so."

"Much appreciated, Mr. Trent," Arric says amiably. "As for Halo, she's not precisely native. I'm not certain where she originated from in the wild, if anywhere. She might be from a long domesticated line. But I found her out here, in the sense that a local gang of pirates on the southern coast hired me to get her back after she'd flown away. In the end they decided she was more trouble than she was worth." He pauses with a slight smile. "I might have influenced that decision."

"Ach, pirates," Maisha shakes her head. "Did I ever tell you I infiltrated a pirate crew once? It was with the Eye, I went by Mai Read. Anyway, violent folk. Probably for the best that ye got Halo away from them, whether it took any influence or no." Maisha pauses, looking northward, and then adds, "Here I've been with the Eye as well. We were lookin' for a lost Forsaken defector, and ended up finding King Galen was dead along the way. And now he's Forsaken. Hell of a thing."

Corvin shifts his attention to Maisha as she speaks, and there's a flicker of something like panic in his eyes when she gets to the part about Arathi. Then he quickly looks down at Gon, hiding his gaze.

"That is, indeed, a 'hell of a thing,' to use your parlance," Arric says. Just to make sure everyone knows he would never curse, unless quoting someone else, mind you. "I hope once I've been with Cobalt Company long enough, I, too, will have some astonishing tales."

Apparently shooting a kraken in the mouth off the coast of Orgimmar does not pass muster. He turns toward Corvin, drawing breath to ask him something, hesitates slightly as he catches something off about his demeanor, but then he pushes right past it and asks anyway. "Where shall we start our hunt?"

"The main Syndicate strongholds will be Northfold Manor to the northwest, and whatever districts they're occupying now in Stromgarde Keep," Corvin says, straightening and looking at Arric, the moment's panic gone. "If they're planning something they want to keep under wraps, then it's likely at the Manor. If it's something for which they need infiltration into the Stromic-held land, the Keep."

"Any thoughts on the more likely place?" Arric persists. "I'd be more than happy to take charge in most situations, but this is a very local matter and I am more of a stranger here than either of you."

"We could check both," Maisha suggests. "My gryphon won't be much use above the Keep, but I can scout out the north, see if I note anything fishy. Then you two could look around the edges of the Syndicate area of the Keep, see what you can find?"

Corvin considers that, and looks at Arric. "I think we'd manage, yeah. And plan to meet back… at the standing stones in the south?"

"All right," says Arric. "But just keep to the air, Maisha, and don't get within bow or rifle range, hm?" He lifts a rusty brow.

"I'll be careful," Maisha nods. "Ye haven't seen me fly before, but I'm right good at it. They take aim at me, I'll make sure they can't reach. It migh' not even strike as odd to 'em. Aerie Peak and Highbank are not so far away. I bet the occasional gryphon rider swings by, even these days."

"So long as you're careful," Corvin agrees, and there might be the faintest touch of relief in his voice. "We can go by foot. Meet up after… three days, to give some time to observe?"

Arric casts a baldly envious look at the gryphon, then double-takes at Corvin.

"Three days?" he says, sounding a bit anxious. "Should we really leave Maisha on her own for that long?"

"If we leave it too short, there may not be much to tell," Corvin says, shifting his weight onto one foot. "We could meet each day, just after dusk until we uncover something?"

Arric relaxes a bit. "Yes, that sounds reasonable," he says. "I think 'I haven't been shot down by ruffians' is sufficient news to satisfy me at the end of each day."

w"I can do that," Maisha nods. "I won't be doin' too much night-flying anyway. It's hazardous, low visibility. Ye don't want to strike someone, or somethin', in the air. Least we've not got Deathwing to worry about, but there's still dragons an' other flyin' things."

"Yeah, no hitting dragons," Corvin says, with a faint smirk. "I don't think they're as thick in the air here as they were at Wyrmrest, at least."

Arric smiles a bit nostalgically at the mention of Wyrmrest. Ah yes, those were the good old days, and he was definitely not freaking out the entire time.

"Right, so, I guess Arric and I should — Lord Arric? Lord Falrevere? Or what should I call you?" Corvin asks, turning to him. "I mean no offense. I've just never spent much time around nobles. Well, except for Ray, if you count the Highborne."

"Technically it would be 'Lord Arric' - Lord Falrevere is my father - but within Cobalt Company just Arric is fine. Frankly, outside of my homeland, the 'Lord' part is fairly meaningless anyhow. I have no title in Stormwind whatsoever." He's clearly not delighted about the situation. "If you are talking about me to someone you don't know well, you'd be safest with 'Lord Arric' just so they don't think you are being uncouth if they know me. But to me, it matters not at all!"

"I guess that I'm a little more familiar with," Corvin says casually, and then says, "Arric, then. And I've no titles myself. Trent is fine, or Corvin. Though maybe we don't use names at all where they might be overheard."

"And I'm Mai," Maisha says with a grin, swinging up onto Stormquill's back. "No need for Miss Cloudskimmer when we're all afield. Everyone ready ta head out?"

"Are you ready?" Arric asks Rica.

"ChrrrEEK!" says Rica.

"Halo?" Arric turns to look at the large parrot on his shoulder. "Ready?" He repeats it again, as though to a child. "Rea-dy?"

The parrot tilts her head at Arric, first one way, then the other. "Avast, ye lubbers!" she squawks in a flat, tinny voice.

"I really shouldn't encourage her," says Arric. "But I think we're all ready," he concludes.

Maisha chuckles at the bird.

Bael casts a doleful gaze at Maisha and Stormquill, but then hops over to stand by Rica, who is already much closer to his size than she was when they first met.

Maisha makes a little clicking sound in her mouth, and Stormquill sweeps into the air. They gain altitude and then sweep into a barrel roll and shoot off towards the north.

Corvin watches her fly off for a long moment, and then turns to Arric. "Will it bother you if I'm in worgen form? I can't really help it, if we end up in a fight. I can't recall if it came up in the meeting, but… surprise. I'm a worgen."

Arric laughs. "I haven't had a great deal of experience with them, but I also have no particular fear of them, any more than I do anything else that's large and has claws and fangs. I've been a hunter all my life - wolves, bears, even gryphons - so there's little of the clawed-and-fanged persuasion that I'd instinctively run away from. I'm more likely to forget to hesitate to shoot you, should you for some reason attack, forgetting that some things with claws and fangs are people." He smiles wryly. "And I do understand that some people of the mainland have very specific unpleasant associations with worgen, but I am lucky enough to be free of those preconceptions, so you'll have the chance to help me form my opinion."

He checks his rifle, gives Rica a scritch on the top of her head, and then nods to indicate his readiness.

Corvin nods, and then there's a shimmer as he shifts into his large wolfish form. He checks his own rifle, and nods, loping off the road and in the direction of Stromgarde Keep. Corvin looks back at Arric and says, "We can move around the perimeter, dodge the lookouts. I don't want to rely on our ability to hide under people's noses — I don't think it plays to our strengths."

Gon slips into the higher grass and then vanishes. It plays to his strengths

Arric takes just a moment to study and adjust to Corvin's worgen form before following after him. Rica trails along behind, and Halo launches herself from Arric's shoulder to circle in the sky above.

"She'll likely spot any danger before we do," Arric notes. "And she always comes back to me, even if I don't call her. She knows who has the food… and the rifle."

"Smart bird," Corvin says in approval, his voice slightly lower and gruffer in worgen form than it was as a human. "Gon is… That is, my fox is… not really tame. He's always come back to me before, though."

Arric gestures to Rica. "She's not exactly tame either. She's more like my daughter. Fully intelligent and very attached, though nonverbal. She understands basic Common, but anything too convoluted or abstract goes right by her. I don't believe it's even necessarily because she fails to understand the concepts, but simply because the way raptors communicate with each other is so different that her brain isn't wired to memorize as wide a variety of sounds."

"Makes sense," Corvin says, with a nod. "They must communicate by scent and posture, as well, more than we do. Maybe something like my time as a feral, what little pieces I remember of it. There was still some intelligence there, of a sort, though… the curse carried its weight. We were not friendly. Anyway, Gon is more of a friend, I think. I'm not sure why he started following me in the first place, so I'm not sure when he might stop."

"That's very unusual behavior for a fox," Arric notes. "At least in Kul Tiras. Foxes can be remarkably complacent about the presence of humans in areas where they are not hunted - rare in Kul Tiras, frankly - but for the most part they will not seek out or follow humans unless that particular human has shown a pattern of being a food source. They are fairly easily tamed, though, due to their intelligence and adaptability. They just have to know what's in it for them."

"What's in it for them," Corvin repeats, looking thoughtful. Then he shrugs, and says, "I do feed him, so that might be all there is to it. That's your homeland, then, is it? Kul Tiras? I don't think I've ever really spoken with anyone from there before — inland family, up in the mountains."

"I don't generally advertise it," Arric says, "as relations between Kul Tiras and the Alliance are frosty at best, but yes. It's in my Cobalt Company file, so there's no point in being cagey about it with members. I came here just before the Silence, as they're calling it now. The blockade, or whatever it is, that has cut off all trade and communication between Kul Tiras and the mainland. So I'm stranded here and making the best of it."

"Mm," Corvin says, shifting his attention to the countryside as they make their way down an incline. The standing stones — the ones he probably meant as a meeting point — come into view as they walk. "Then I guess I should tell you… it's in my Cobalt Company file, but I don't… generally advertise it, as you might say. A little more strongly, maybe, but it sounds like you'll understand discretion. I was born in the ruins of Alterac. Part of how I know my way around here."

"Ah?" says Arric. His expression is much more neutral than Corvin is probably used to seeing from people who live on the mainland. Maybe Alterac isn't as big a hot button for those whose lands the orcs didn't breeze through it on the way to conquer. "It was ruined already? You must be quite young."

"Might be more accurate to say it was being ruined when I was born," Corvin says a little dryly. "But trust me, I didn't ruin it from the womb. Anyway, means I've been something like living in exile from my homeland, too. Except, I guess, it's the homeland itself that's lost itself, not me."

"I'm not sure which is worse, honestly," Arric muses. "To know that one's homeland still exists and carries on, out of one's reach, or to know it is destroyed and will never return. I suppose each is its own kind of torment. And the latter seems all too common for the peoples of this world."

"Kek-kek-reeeeee!" says Rica. Possibly unrelated.

"I guess it's hard to miss something you never really had," Corvin says, as they pass the ring of standing stones. "These have probably stood long before both Alterac and Stromgarde. And it seems like they'll outlast both."

Arric gazes at the stones in fascination for a moment. "Are you a lover of history?" he inquires amiably as he continues to follow Corvin, tall grass swishing against his legs.

"I can't say as I know all that much of it," Corvin says, as the Keep emerges in the distance. "Just the local stuff. I grew up on tales of the Empire of Arathor, and then the old glories of Alterac." He pauses, and then adds, "We were under Arathor long ago, and then under Lordaeron when I was a boy, for all I was taught to think of myself as Alteraci. Maybe it's about time the human kingdoms started pulling together again, instead of against each other."

Arric exhales audibly. "Precisely what I tried to say to my father before I left, and all it got me was assistance in boarding the next ship out. But I suppose I'd rather be on this side of the Silence than the other. This is the real world, here. No matter what Kul Tiras likes to tell themselves about their superiority." Arric flinches slightly. "Don't let it get around that I said any of that," he adds. "I walk a delicate line between my desire to be a good citizen of the Alliance and my friendship with the Fallons - who are rather contemptuous of most things to do with mainland culture, even after having been immersed in it so long, or perhaps even because of that."

"I don't even know what my father would say to the sentiment," Corvin says. "Never really knew him. But I don't think we should let our common enemies divide us against each other. And if that means the Alliance is the real world, that's where I belong, too." Then he considers the rest of Arric's words, and asks, "Fallon's an admiral of the fleet, isn't he? Contemptuous or not, he's a part of things here not there."

"Ah, yes, he's a smart enough man to know which way the wind blows," Arric says. "If the mainlanders are the ones getting things done, that's where he'll be. But that doesn't mean he likes it here. He's set on living his life in as Tirasian a way as possible. Which is all well and good for him, but I don't have his charm to make people look past that sort of thing. I'm better off blending in as well as I can."

Corvin nods slightly. "You and me both, then. I'll not bring up your origins if you'll not bring up mine. I don't think I have the charm to claim mine publicly and get away with it." He pauses, and then adds, "If we need to go into the Stromic part of the Keep for anything, might be better you than me. You know how nobles think. I'm better as a rifle in the shadows."

Time Passes

The three hunters settle into a routine for the next days, Arric and Corvin moving unseen around the edges of the Syndicate-controlled districts of Stromgarde Keep, and Maisha patrolling the Highlands by gryphon. They meet up each evening at the standing stones to share information. Bael seems a little disgruntled at Maisha staying with Stormquill in the air rather than him on the ground, but the annoyance is clearly tempered by the pleasure of spending more time with Rica.

Maisha reports that there's no sudden build up at Northfold Manor that would indicate an imminent attack, but the Syndicate stronghold is heavily fortified. They send out scouts to keep an eye on the Forsaken forces. There's at least no signs of Plague wagons there, even if the number of undead seems to be slowly increasing. On the Hammerfall side, perhaps surprisingly, the orcs seem to be largely content to maintain their own town and show no signs of interest in conquering anyone else.

Arric and Corvin similarly see signs of Syndicate strength, likely because these two locations are where most of the remaining forces have fallen back to after the tragedy of Hillsbrad. There are no attacks on the Stromic-held districts, but Arric and Corvin continue to watch for signs of scheming or efforts at communication.

One early evening, as Corvin, Arric, and the animals are sitting in the lee of a ruined building, having a quick dinner, a small bird flies low overhead. Corvin pauses, peering up at the creature. It's some variety of pigeon, and it seems to be mildly hampered by something attached to its legs.

"Is there something tied to that bird?" Corvin asks quietly.

"Messenger pigeon," says Arric. "Capital opportunity." Without hesitation, he lifts his rifle, aiming at the bird and sighting through his scope. "We can always claim it was an accident, if we're caught. Hunters can be so careless."

"Shoot or follow," Corvin says, pausing in indecision, then nods at Arric. "We could lose it, following. Shooting is more certain."

Arric exhales slowly, his body motionless. With a single sharp, echoing report, the pigeon drops from the sky.

Gon disappears once more into the brush, and Bael lopes in the direction of the fallen bird.

"Well shot," Corvin pauses for a moment, his eyes following the trajectory. "It was going to someone in the Syndicate part of the Keep, for certain. From who and for who… maybe we can find out more if we get the letter."

"Rica, go with Bael," says Arric. "Bring me the paper. His mouth is too big." He points in the direction Bael went. It's not clear exactly how much Rica understood, but she does take off in the right direction.

Corvin looks to Arric. "Think we should wait here and let the animals handle it, or go see where it fell?"

"Let's give them a moment. Just in case there are Syndicate about, better for them to see an animal running off with it than a person, hm?" Arric winks.

"Good point," Corvin winks back, a little awkward in a worgen face. "The more we can let this be random chance, the better. Accidental hunter shot, beasts scavenged the body."

"Yes, accidents do happen!" Arric says innocently. He has the sort of Well Meaning Daft Second Son of a Noble vibe that really sells this sort of thing.

Corvin gives a barking laugh. He is not selling the right vibe himself, but maybe only one of them needs to. "I don't think they'd send a note by pigeon unless it were reasonably urgent. It's faster than a human messenger, but less secure. Probably not a comment on the weather."

Little Rica comes sprinting back before long, a tiny rolled piece of paper protruding from her mouth.

"Good girl!" says Arric, surprise evident in his voice. While he apparently trusted her to at least try, he seems to have had some doubts as to her efficacy, which are now pleasantly dispelled.

He kneels down, and Rica releases the small scroll into his hands. It is a bit moist at one end, but she has managed not to puncture it with her razor sharp teeth. Arric carefully unrolls it.

Bael, loping up behind Rica, chirrups approvingly. Gon sits a few paces away, gleaming eyes focused on Corvin.

The paper is a relatively brief correspondence, and it says, as written:

Montrose,

No, if he was returning, he would have by now. Assume the cormorant is out of play. Windward went for the loose ends, but she only got one of the two. Need to move soon, before the dead king forces our hand. Any word from inside? Are the pieces in position yet?

—R

Beneath the words are a few dots and scratches of ink, only a little too regular to be random ink splotches.

Arric stares at the paper for a bit.

"Cormorant is a code name, as is Windward, and most likely Montrose as well, since it was spelled out. 'R' is likely the real first initial of someone. There's someone alive who is in danger - this second 'loose end.' And these - " here Arric points to the dots and scratches at the bottom, "- look like some sort of code. Who do we know who's good with codes?"

Arric passes the paper over to Corvin.

Corvin takes the paper in hand, frowns at it, and brushes one paw over the little marks and dots. The fox stares at him with gleaming eyes.

"Dead king, that's got to be Galen Trollbane, and then that's— " Corvin glances nervously towards the sky, and back to Arric. "Yeah, we could ask— " he grits his teeth, and then says, very reluctantly, "The code — it says they know about Ionala Webster. Not directly. Just says… rumor of missing noble found, possible complication."

"What?" Arric snatches the paper back from Corvin and stares at the dots and scratches as though he intends to erase them with the power of sheer outrage. "Why is she a complication? I don't understand! Is she in line for the throne?"

He sways slightly on his feet, then abruptly sits down in the grass, placing his forehead on his knees, paper still clutched loosely in one hand.

"Tides and Light," he mutters. "Pull it together, Falrevere."

"Possible," Corvin says, kneeling down and dropping a paw to Arric's shoulder in what he probably intends to be a heartening gesture. "Possible complication. Could be they didn't get exactly who she was, just heard some gossip at Honor Hold? Might be they're imagining some Danath Trollbane love child or something. But 'missing noble found' — unless there's one I don't know about, sounds like her."

Arric lifts his head and takes a deep breath.

"We'll have to warn her at any rate, as soon as possible. I don't like the idea of her being viewed as a 'possible complication' by people whose primary means of problem-solving involves stabbing."

"Aye, that we'll need to do," Corvin says, patting Arric again for good measure. "I expect she knows she's in danger already, but this confirms they know she exists now. As for the rest of it… Windward must be an assassin," Corvin pauses, like there's more he might say, but then just continues to, "And 'word from inside'? The Keep, maybe? We might need to warn Sir Atley and Velrin as well."

"Right," Arric says crisply, rising carefully to his feet. "All right." He pauses, gently massaging his closed eyes with one hand. "Er… what should we do and in what order? Sorry, I feel as though someone just grabbed me by the skull and shook me quite vigorously."

"Got a thing for Miss Webster?" Corvin asks casually. "She seems like… an admirable sort. We'll need to meet up with her and Mr. Kuroda at some point in any case — they were off to interrogate the prisoners, which could be where the 'loose ends' came in. Sounds like… maybe the pieces aren't in place yet, so there's a little time left to get our ducks in order before we barge in there. Assuming Maisha hasn't seen signs of Forsaken on the march."

Arric colors slightly. "It's possible that she and I have a sort of… understanding," he confesses. "Though I use that only in the polite sense to mean, she has suggested that I might call upon her if I wish. As for actual understanding - when it comes to Miss Webster, as I have been so ignorantly calling her, I have very little of that, I'm afraid."

He plants his rifle butt-down as though it were a walking stick, and leans casually on it, looking around. He clears his throat with the air of a man trying to clear the entire subject out of it.

"Ducks," he says. "Let us arrange them."

"In my experience, admiring and understanding can be two very different things," Corvin nods, and then accepts the change in subject. "Ducks. Facts. What do we have here? One, there are one or more people possibly in the Keep that are collaborating with the Syndicate. Two, there is regular communication between here and the manor north." He pauses for breath, leaving space for Arric's conclusions.

"Do you think it would be worth heading in the direction that bird was going to see if we can find out who was the intended recipient of the message?" Arric muses aloud. "Or should we head back to report to others on the team?"

"Ah, hmm," Corvin looks away from Arric, in the direction where the bird fell. "We might. It would've been going to someone. This 'Montrose'. How are you with tracking? This would be… making sure that if we come across a track, we don't bump into them. Of course, if we do, and they don't expect us coming, we have two raptors, a fox, and two rifles. Odds are on our side."

"I can track any beast in Kul Tiras," but I've never much been in the business of tracking people. Some of it's the same, I would surmise, but some of it certainly isn't. Looking for droppings is not really a factor, for example," he adds dryly. "What about you? Any experience in tracking people?"

"Not… a lot," Corvin admits. "Not beasts, nor people. I have a good nose now, though, and I'm good at watching for things, so I might be able to warn us before we get into trouble. And besides, we know the general direction, so maybe between the two of us we'll manage. Let's do it?"

"Agreed," Arric says. He whistles a lilting triplet of notes, and Halo plunges down from the sky to hover for a moment, then settle on his shoulder. "A bit stealthier if there isn't a white bird circling above my head," he notes. "Let's go."

Corvin chuckles and makes a little gesture like a hat tip to Halo. Then he lopes in the direction of the bird's fall, moving more easily and silently across the ground than it seems like a worgen would. Gon slips behind a corner as they pass a ruined building, and does not reappear. Bael sticks close to Rica, a protective posture to his usual stalking gait.

Halo stays on Arric's shoulder; Arric feeds the bird some tiny little seed cakes periodically to keep her quiet. Rica is in Clever Girl mode, slinking though the grass in a sort of instinctive formation with the human and worgen.

Corvin follows along warily, as the raptors make it back to the place where they retrieved the bird, and then Bael tilts his head towards Rica and continues in the direction the bird had been flying.

They continue more slowly, until Bael draws up short, sniffing the air. Corvin frowns and follows suit, and then looks to Arric. "Something smells wrong. Sulfur?"

Arric readies his rifle, looking around alertly. Rica huddles close to Bael.

Some distance away, glimpsed briefly through a broken archway that was once part of some kind of building, Arric sees a fel-green glowing orb passing by.

"There's your sulfur smell…" Arric whispers to Corvin. "Fel magic."

"A warlock," Corvin whispers, and he backs away slowly. "My guess would be just the one."

"Should we investigate?" Arric whispers. "Or back off?"

Corvin hesitates, raising one hand to his own rifle. He whispers back, "If they see us and escape, it tips our hand. Hapless hunter's accident might not hold. I couldn't guess if they're amateur or powerful."

"True," Arric says thoughtfully. "Courage is one thing, but not when it could potentially undermine the work the whole team is doing. Let us pause while we're ahead."

Corvin nods, backing away and saying in a low voice, "When I lived in the area, I… I guess I heard rumors that there were a few warlocks in the Syndicate. I never had any run-ins with them. I don't think they're the sort to join that WEB group, though."

"I have yet to meet a warlock I got along with well, W.E.B. or no," Arric admits. "But I can't blame them for being a bit jaded or defensive, and I suspect am simply unused to their ways and the proper manner of approach. I have no doubt I'll learn in time."

"I expect the Syndicate ones won't be the ones to teach you," Corvin says with a grunt, as they turn back. "These ones might be a little too keen on their demons." He pauses. "Let's meet up with Mai. We'll need to send Miss Webster word, unless you want to deliver the warning personally. Could do to send word or person in to warn the Stromic folk in the Keep as well."

Arric colors slightly. "I'm sure a written missive will do in both the latter cases," he says. "Let's regroup with Maisha."