The Foolishness Of The Frostwolf

[Zitani]

Nan'ka walked down the street, silent and cloaked. He paid no heed to those still lingering so late at night around the city. Soon, they would all know the wrath of his loa. Soon, they would feel the bite of the Venom Queen.
   Adjusting his cloak, he turned aside to head down a deserted alleyway. His mission was simple. He had been sent to make sure the prisoners that had been taken today were secure. That was all. His masters never said where the prisoners would go. Nor did they give him any reason as to why they still lived â€" only that they and their allies were getting in the way. This was their punishment.
   He allowed himself a small smirk. The outsiders deserved everything they got, and more. They had no place here. This Horde had no place here. The Queen was wrong to allow them here, of that he was certain. But it did not matter. Like them, she would die soon as well.
   So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he never noticed the silent shadow that detached from the darkness of a nearby alleyway, and began to follow him. Traversing down the stairway, the tall troll moved with a purpose in his step. And that was what gained the attention of his new shadow.
   It remained at a distance, never coming too close for him to notice. It never occurred to him that anyone would take interest in his comings and goings. It would soon prove costly.
   He was not far from the prisoners now. He seemed to relax now, secure in the knowledge that soon his mission would be accomplished, and that he would soon be serving his loa in other ways. So it came to be that he never expected the strong, slender hand that grasped his throat and dragged him into the darkness of an unlit alleyway.
   Before he could so much as yell out, he felt the press of a blade against his throat. He went still then, knowing the wrong word could cause that blade to slip. He swallows hard, his eyes staring blankly into the darkness in an attempt to see his captor.
   â€œWhere are they?” The question was growled out. Female, he could tell that much. Not a troll â€" the accent was not there. An elf? No. The strength alone confirmed that much. Not a tauren â€" the hand did not feel right. An orc then? Whatever she was, he could only see a vague outline.
   â€œWhere....” His voice croaked as he broke his silence. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Where be w'o?”
   â€œDo not play games with me. Where are the people you stole?”
   Ah. Someone who came for vengeance. This was someone he could manipulate. He offered a gentle smile. “Iffen ja want dem back, killing me would rat'ah remove dem from ya reach, wouldn't it?” He asked at last, the confidence that had fled him at the feeling of the blade began to slowly return.
   â€œYou are one troll. You weren't so hard to spot.”
   He frowned. “Ya t'ink we awh b'lookin' da sehme? Ai'm offendahd. Well, I be t'inkin' awh you orcs look de same.” The blade pressed a little harder. He swallowed, and changed his tune. “Well, not awh. Some of ya can be quite loveleh ta look at. I imagine ya might be, ifen ya be allowin' meh ta see ya face...?”
   â€œYou will not see my face. You will tell me what I want to know. And then you will leave.”
   His eyes flicked from side to side, perhaps searching for a way out. “Ya'd just...Let me go? No messin'?”
   â€œI'll let you go.”
   He fell silent for a moment. This did not make sense. Why would she let him go? He could easily have her tracked down and killed. “...W'ai?”
   She took a moment to respond. “I just want my clanmates back.”
   He nodded â€" or at least he nodded as well as he could manage given the blade at his throat. He understood at least. The orcs were a strange bunch, all about honour and looking out for one another. This one was clearly no different. “Ai c'n tell ya den. Iffen ai b' 'avin' ya word dat ya'll let me go.”

   Zi'tani slipped away from the shadowy alleyway, leaving the body of the troll in the darkness. She had promised to let him go. She never said it was from the world of the living. She had heard of this Bwonsamdi â€" the loa of death that the trolls revered. The troll she had killed could go see the loa of death. She intended to send more after him.
   Stalking through the darkening streets, she never let up on her hunt. At one point, she took to the walltops â€" feeling it was easier to pass through unnoticed if she took the high road. She had not brought Razara with her this time. Instead, she had left the little wolf pup with Skint, trusting her to look after her. She had told her she simply wanted to explore, and did not want to risk the pup if anything should happen.
   She felt bad for the lie. But she could not risk anything stopping her now. He and the others were so close. Rage was what pushed her onwards, and temperament was what kept her hidden. Rage that her clanmates had been taken. Rage that he had returned recently, only to be taken away again. Rage that she was not there to stop it from happening.
   She would make up for it now.
   She stopped, watching down below. There was the building the troll said the prisoners were being held in. She did not know if he had spoken the truth or not. But it was a risk she had to take. She couldn't lose him again.
   â€œSpirits of the earth...Guide my footsteps. Grant me the strength to save those whose freedom has been stolen from them,” she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. It was time.
   Gripping her axe, she threw herself over the wall to slam into the nearest guard, taking off his head before he even knew what had happened. Whilst the blood spurted in a constant fountain from the stump of his neck, she was already up and laying into his companion, raking the blade of her axe across his stomach and cutting free his intestines. Another swipe, and his throat was torn open in one brutal swing of the axe. Footsteps could be heard, along with yells.
   It was clear stealth was something she still needed to work on. They had already noticed her.
   Throwing herself into the building, she cut through the first troll she came across before he could even rise from his seat. Her foot caught the stool he sat on, and kicked it straight into the face of another who came thundering into the room. Leaping over his fallen form, she ran into her first locked door.
   In a rage, she slammed herself against it. Over and over, until it gave way beneath her. She glared around for a moment, but growled. No-one was here.
   She stepped outside, ramming her axeblade into the face of a troll who was simply passing by. She yanked her axe out, leaving his face decimated as she stomped down the hallway to the next door. This one was locked as well. But it stood no chance against the young Frostwolf, driven by her wrath. It broke down before her, and her glare swept across the room. She was about to leave when her gaze caught something. Another door.
   She frowned, striding towards it. She did not even stop to look at it, but threw herself at it. It bounced her off, but it only served to anger her further. With a furious roar, she rammed into it, again and again. She did not know how much time had passed by this point, but desperation drove her onwards, the skin of her shoulder splitting under the impact of her flesh against the hardened wood.
   Finally, the door gave way â€" breaking off its hinges. She stepped in, bloodied and angry. She stared around, and then stopped. It was him.
   Vraxxar.
   Her instincts took over. Really, she wanted to hug him. At the same time, she wanted to scream at him, and punch him. But there was no time for any of these things. She did not even give him much of a chance to respond, but grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room â€" heading for the main entrance. She had no idea where the others were, but she needed him out and to safety before she could rescue them.
   Unfortunately, she did not realise how long she had taken. Outside, the way was blocked by robed figures. All trolls, she guessed. There was no way she and the Varog'gor could escape past them. They filled the very street, stretching for some distance. She had but seconds to make her decision.
   She turned to Vraxxar, and grabbed his hands. There was a lot she wanted to say, but this was not the time. Perhaps the time will never come. “Forgive me later,” she managed, giving him a grin. She tried hard to make it as natural a grin as possible. But her eyes said otherwise. They were the eyes of a woman who was not certain she would ever see him again.
   In the second that followed, she stamped down hard. The ground rumbled, and the earth broke through the stone to grasp hold of Vraxxar, and hurtled into the air â€" taking him with it. It drove him over the nearby wall onto the next level of the city, taking with him most of her strength. Seeing him soaring away to safety was the last thing Zi'tani saw as the trolls attacked and overwhelmed her, striking her with a small knife. Her vision grew blurry, and her head felt lightheaded.
   Gotta...Save...The others...Vraxxar...Her last thoughts trailed off as the darkness swallowed her up.

   Vraxxar sat with his eyes closed â€" seemingly calm â€" in his dark imprisonment. Only when the sounds of a commotion breaking out outside does he open his eyes, noting that the sounds were getting louder and closer.
   Banging resounded against the door, causing him to rise up onto his feet and into a readied stance â€" if he was to die, he would die fighting for his life. The door finally burst open, and the bright light blinded him. He could not see who stood in the doorway until his eyes adjusted.
   He registered that it was the newblood Zi'tani, but she grabbed him before he could even speak. Their journey back through the building was swift, only stopping at the sight of the robed trolls that blocked the way to safety. But he was an orc â€" and he held no second thoughts in fighting them all, preparing to fight his way through them. But before he could, Zi'tani grabbed him and spoke something, before sending him hurtling through the air by the very earth she called upon.
   His landing was not kind. He hit the ground hard â€" knocking the wind out of him. He scrambled onto his feet after a moment of respite, and looks back at the crowded street. At the trolls who covered his view of the newblood. His stare was long. Hard. Sad and angry at the same time. But it was too late. She could not be seen. Which only meant one thing in his mind.
   But he could not linger here. If he stayed, they would find him. And then Zi'tani's brave â€" and foolish â€" sacrifice would be in vain. The other Varog'gor needed to know what happened. They needed to know he was alive, and that it cost Zi'tani's life to return him to the clan.
   The moment he arrived in the Zocalo, his first instance was to seek out Razaron and Kyrazha, his stomach feeling like a pit had opened up within. He stopped, staring back at them.
   â€œI've failed again...” He managed, his breathing difficult.