A frustrated snort blew the orange sand of Orgrimmar up into rolling billows around the Tauren woman’s ankles. It was always muggy in the capital and sand always got up Leda’s nose. At the moment she was still, kneeling on the ground, her head bent with one elbow resting on her raised knee. Not even Grommash Hold was immune to the god-forsaken sand. The Shattered Sun tabard was plastered to her back with sweat and – for Ysera’s sake! – sand gritted in between her teeth.
Several other Generals, Colonels and advisors to Thrall mimicked her posturing around the room. It was customary for similarly ranked members to hear the other’s reports. The Warchief always said he liked everyone to be on the same roll of parchment, but Leda suspected it was to spark competition between divisions and branches of the Army. Unfortunately, being an unexpected member of today’s group meant her report would have to wait until the very end. The young General began grumbling to herself sometime during a report on the cleanliness of the Undercity and the snorting began three quarters of the way through an agricultural summary of Arathi Basin.
There were several more officers left before Leda would be allowed to speak and as scintillating as their reports might be, she let her mind wander. “What the hell is going on here?!? Honestly. I saw Kil’jaeden. I saw his big, ugly, red squid-y face and I have to wait for the daily farm report? By the time he calls my name, half of Silvermoo-“
“General Rabidfawn!”
Leda’s head snapped up. Three dozen grizzled, scarred faces stared back at her. Sheepishly she pulls herself up to her full height and her back muscles protest fiercely after the long dragonhawk flight. “It’s Savagedawn, actually.”
“Of course, yes. General of the …” The Orc chieftan trailed off, apparently forgetting Leda’s division entirely.
“The 43rd, Sir. We dispatched Kel’Thuzad not three days ago.”
“Right right,” Thrall grunted. A slender elf at his side murmured something out of the corner of her mouth, obviously encouraging the Warchief’s memory. He nodded once and spoke slowly, “Ya didn’t have to come all the way from … uh… your station for a meeting y’know. Don’t usually ask the field officers to report in everyday.”
“Of course. The 43rd sends their gratitude for the ‘gentle’ post on the Isle of Quel’Danas. However, I thought it would interest the Chieftan of the Horde to know that the demon Kil’jaeden has managed to enter our world once again.”
Silence followed.
In the back of the room, the Troll on guard duty began to snicker. The Colonel next to her coughed to hide a chuckle and within moments the entire room was guffawing and slapping their knees – Thrall included.
“Ha! I don’t think so General,” Thrall began, in between chuckles of his own; “You yourself saw the Well was guarded night and day.”
Leda set her jaw stubbornly. “And I myself saw the demon rise out of the Sunwell complex as fire rained from the sky and your men were slaughtered as easily as the boars outside the city. My men and I have flown far – directly from the Isle, in fact, to deliver my report and I stand by it.”
The yellow of the Orc’s eyes met the blue of the Tauren’s and his gaze felt as if it had bored a hole in her head. The room quieted, only the sound of nervous acceptance broke the silence. The Warchief nodded and stood from his throne. “Alright, everyone out.”
Feeling defeated, Leda joined the small swell of officers as they turned to file out of the small doorway. Her head hung, the Tauren let the crowd push her along with them. With no new orders, the 43rd would be free to pursue their own attack on the Sunwell. But with no support, no resources, and no backup… Leda feared they’d be a pathetic failure. She only hoped the proof Thrall needed of Kil’jaeden’s existence would come soon enough to save Azeroth.
“Savagedawn, get back here.”
It was dusk by the time she left Grommash Hold and started back toward the barracks. They’d lost an entire day crossing the Maelstrom on dragonhawks. Her back still twinged now and then, but the warm temperatures of Durotar were heaven-sent after the long ride over the sea. The General took her time, wandering through the still quiet of The Drag.
It was dark and cool; she plucked her sweaty tabard off her chest and attempted to get some air after the stuffy mugginess of Thrall’s room. Her next left would take her through the passage to the Valley of Hono-
“Oof!”
Her hoof had caught on a tree root. The only tree in the whole freakin’ city and her hooves found its roots. She lay on her stomach nearly face down in the sand, not moving. At least no one just saw the General trip and fall face first. Or not.
On her right, a Troll rogue slipped out of the shadows, her snickering getting louder as her body turned more opaque.
Leda could only growl her frustration – the sound was unnatural coming from her Tauren form. She braced herself, summoning the near berserk frame-of-mind required, and began the painful transformation. Furry skin erupted, beginning at her spine and wrapping around her body, covering her leather armour, hiding it. Her tail folded in on itself, the bones snapping and reforming into her little bear tail. Claws shot out from the tips of her fingers and toes, her teeth stretched and pulled from the flat molars of an herbivore into the sharp tipped teeth of a carnivore. The pain was near unbearable and her soft Tauren growl morphed into a full bear roar, scaring nearby resting birds into flight above her.
As the pain subsided, her vision cleared. The Troll was gone or at least no longer visible. The bear, a little achy still from her dragonhawk ride, pulled herself up on all fours slowly. A snort cleared the sand from her nose and her little pink tongue removed it from her lips. A quick, dog-like shake sprayed even more of the increasingly annoying sand off her coat. The bear sighed, relaxing in her new body and set out for the Valley of Honour, waddling slightly and taking her time.
Nearly 15 minutes later, the bear arrived at the barracks of the 43rd Division. In the back of the Valley of Honour, in a corner, hidden by the stadium was the tower they had been assigned to. It had been the only available space when they arrived so unexpectedly earlier this afternoon. At the base of the tower, Doogie and Iyo were already waiting. Iyo was reading an Orcish newspaper, his knees nearly at his chin as he sat on a very low crate. Doogie was casually leaning against the doorframe, her attention focused on polishing one of her greaves.
“That’s alright Leda; take your time getting here. None of us have been waiting anxiously for you to tell us what Thrall is going to do. I didn’t have to spike Em’s kodo milk with a sleeping draught to get her to shut up,” Doogie looked down at the bear, “We heard you coming. You really should see a druid elder about that pain. The roar hardly lends itself to subterfuge.”
The bear snorted, throwing dust up into her face, which only caused her to cough a horrible hacking sound. Iyo spoke up next from behind his paper, “I don’t think bears are meant for subterfuge. It takes at least 3 barrels to cover up her butt alone.” Leda glared at her twin as only bears can glare, waddled over to his tiny crate and knocked a corner out. His yelp of surprise as his own butt hit the hard ground was immensely satisfying for the bear and she waddled into the barracks, up the long swirling stairs.
Her nose told her that the first room up the stairs was shared by Ren (the salted fish smell was strong, it made Leda’s mouth water) and Clothilde (who always smelled like peacebloom). Next, it appeared that Seishougen (his cologne was so strong it made her head swim) and Iyo had decided to bunk together. The third room up was only occupied by a sleeping Emilei; however, Leda’s saddlebag/backpack had been set carefully on the bed next to the Undead.
With a resigned sigh, the bear clambered up onto the hard bed, thanking the gods that it was not a hammock (which she was prone to fall out of). With a snort, Leda decided to send Doogie next time a major catastrophe needed reporting. There was no way she’d miss out on rolling for the best bed next time.
With a low growl, she began shifting back into her Tauren form. The furry skin slipped back under her armour, her claws retracted and her growl slowly turned into a quiet whimper. Leda lay on her bed, breathing heavily and thankful for the privacy her friends had given her. As an officer in Thrall’s army, she was expected to remain in her clumsy, uncomfortable birth form unless engaging in combat. Being unable to give orders was a definite downside to a shapeshifting leader. She was one of two Generals which were able to shapeshift – the other lead an all druid platoon.
As soon as she stopped seeing double, the Tauren woman slipped off the bed and shook Em’s shoulder. The rogue mumbled something about hippogriffs taking her knives. “Em!” Leda called. “We’ve got a meeting to go to.” The Undead Elf sat straight up, nearly head bashing Leda.
“The hippogriffs! Wait…” Em looked at her and then her face lit up as she recognized her General. “Leda! You’re back! What’d Thrall have to say? Was he mad? Does his face get red when he’s mad or does it make a brown colour like when I mixed red and green paint? I bet he was mad. Did he hit you? Where’s the scar? I bet it’s awesome. Show me! Show me! Unless it’s on, like, your boobies. Then don’t show me. I don’t need to see your furry boobies.”
Leda rolled her eyes. “Great! I don’t want to show them to you. C’mon, the others will be waiting upstairs.”
The large circular room at the top of the tower was used to store supplies. Currently, various members of the 43rd were lounging on top of said supplies attempting to catch a faint breeze through the windows.
“Oh don’t be such a prude Ren!” Seishougen’s cultured tones were the first Leda caught as she attempted to tune out Emilei behind her. “We’ve all gone swimming before haven’t we?”
“It’s not that … It's…” The mage raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Oh alright fine.” Apparently, the elves had decided it was too hot out to wear most of their clothes. Cloe and Seishougen were sprawled out on a pile of grain bags in nothing but their Shattered Sun tabards and their underwear. Ren was attempting to join them; however, the huntress was struggling to get her clothes off without taking off the tabard.
“Why is it always so hot here Leda? Is the sun closer to the ground? Does the orange sand eat up all the heat? How come I’m not hot?” Em had snuck out from behind Leda, who was currently standing at the top of the stairs.
“Leda! Doogie said you were back! What took you so long?” Cloe waved her over, “C’mon, its cooler if you take it all off. How are you still conscious with all that armour on?” Leda merely shrugged. She was getting sweatier by the second.
As soon as she was settled, in only her skivvies and her tabard on her very own grain bag, they pounced. “What did he say?” “Do we have new orders?” “Are we going back?” “Why is he back?” Leda swatted away their questions like flies.
“Let me start from the beginning.” The elves sat back and Doogie resumed polishing her plate, having moved onto the helm.
“First, everyone laughed. And-“
“Did you break wind again?” Em interrupted. Leda glared at the rogue and the rest of the division attempted to hold back gales of laughter, remembering the last time she met Thrall.
“I did not, Emi.”
“Well what happened next?”
“After they stopped laughing, Thrall sent them out and I explained what had happened. He still doesn’t believe me, but if Kil’jaeden’s not there…. Well let’s just say you’ll find yourselves under the command of another General.”
“So what’s he gonna do? What’re we gonna do for that matter?” Ren spoke up, adjusting her tabard awkwardly.
“What are our new orders, General? Have Berzhula and I been reassigned?” Mukesh stepped forward, his hooves clunking on the wooden floor and his dark fur blending in with the long shadows of the sunset. Behind him, in the dark, Leda could barely make out the sleeping form of the little Forsaken Grunt, curled up on a grain bag. “He- uh… he might have had a few sips of Emi’s cocktail.” The Death Knight smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I can wake him up if you want?”
“No, no. Let him sleep. You can tell him in the morning that you’ve both been reassigned to the 43rd. Our orders are now your orders, so drop the formalities already. We don’t stand much on ceremony around here.” Mukesh nodded and dragged a crate next to the one Iyo was sitting on. As he leant back against the cool stone wall, his sigh of relief was heard by everyone in the circular room.
“So, what are our orders then?” He asked, daring to look Leda in the eye for the first time since they had met.
“Thrall will contact Lor’themar in Silvermoon and have him send as many ships as he can spare to surround the isle. All travel to and from will be cut off and all flight masters have been ordered to cancel any flights accordingly. We, the 43rd, are to lead the attack on the Sunwell. Thrall has moved the reserve army into action and called for a draft within the Horde controlled regions. There is no word on the Alliance’s actions or if they are even aware of the situation.”
From her place leaning against the wall, Doogie nodded and tucked her helm underneath her arm. “When do we move out?”
“The Warchief needs time to put together our forces. A fleet of rented zeppelins will take us to the isle at dusk tomorrow. We should arrived by the afternoon, giving us plenty of light to create a foothold camp on the shore.” Behind her, Iyo sighed, carefully folding up his paper. “Something wrong Iyo?”
“Why does this crap always happen to us?”
Flying across the Maelstrom in a zeppelin was infinitely better than flying across the Maelstrom on a dragonhawk, even if she did have to deal with the Goblins. This particular mission would not be Leda’s first command and if she was honest with herself, it was surprising that Thrall entrusted it to her. Her last command was anything but smooth, even if it did turn out successful. In the span of mere weeks she managed to lose hundreds of new Tauren recruits, her commanding officer Asterius, get herself buried under 10 feet of snow after causing an avalanche on purpose, leave her troops behind to find her brother, died, shared a body with Iyo, had a new body made, kill several Generals of the enemy and ultimately defeated the invading forces. She didn’t count it as a victory of her own though. The credit went to all the men and women she abandoned after Iyo wandered off.
Her last command and the battles in Stormwind weighed heavily on her mind as she sat with her friends inside the body of the zeppelin. She knew her failures and she knew her weaknesses and unfortunately she knew they were both unavoidable. She glanced over at her brother, his nose in yet another book (which appeared to be a Goblin gossip magazine upon closer inspection) His blue eyes met her identical blue eyes and Leda set her jaw in that stubborn way of hers. She could protect him and complete the objectives set out by the Warchief. Or she could die trying. Again.
Cloe, Seis and then Iyo fell asleep one by one, sitting upright against the wall of the ship. Cloe’s blonde curls spilled over Iyo’s arm as she pillowed her head on his bicep. Doogie and Em, not needing sleep of any kind, had set up their chess board. At the moment, Doogie was analyzing the board while Emi impatiently wiggled around on her milk barrel seat. Ren, oddly enough, had a comb in hand and was grooming her gorilla, Brock. Mukesh was busy sharpening his axe and Berzhula was snickering to himself as he drew lewd pictures in ice crystals on the floor.
They felt their approach before the Goblin captain squawked at them. The air was warmer and Berzhula’s crystal penises were melting, making puddles on the floor. They knew they were really close when a fireball crashed through the bottom of the ship, nearly singeing the fur off of Mukesh’s left thigh.
“C’mon!” yelled the Goblin from the top of the stairs, his sneer even more feral now that they had caused his ship to sprout a new porthole. “Can’t get you much closer, you’ll have to jump! Grab a ‘chute and get up here, all of ya’s!”
“I guess this is our stop!” Cloe smiled, rubbing her eyes and stretching. “Where are those parachutes?”
It was too warm, too nice of a day for a mission like this. They stood, side by side, on the deck of the zeppelin each with a parachute strapped to their back. On the ship next to them, Leda could see another dozen or so of her men, all too young and no doubt, very untrained. “We’ll meet up on the shore west of the harbour.” The General looked down, the water below them looked cold and deep and impossibly far away. Leda hated heights. Even the bridges in Thunder Bluff made her nervous and they were nothing near as high up as they were now.
“Look out!” With an excited grin on her face, Em flew past them at a dead run and jumped over the rail and a few seconds later her parachute unfurled itself. One by one the 43rd stepped off the side of the zeppelin, each praying to their own god that the parachute would open. And then only Iyo and Leda were left.
“It’ll be alright, look Leda, everyone else is fine,” Iyo smiled and her quiet brother squeezed her hand, grinned like a madman and jumped off the side, dragging her with him.
The General’s scream pierced the air and was choked off as she hit the impossibly cold water of the northern sea. Above her, Iyo gracefully soared down in his raven form, landing in the water. As she choked and sputtered, the smooth silk of seal’s skin slipped past her fingers and she wrapped her arms around Iyo’s neck. The twins beat the rest of the 43rd to the shoreline, Iyotanka completely dry after his shift back to his birth form and Leda, wet as a drowned rat with her mane plastered across her face, still spitting out salty water.
“Alright there, General?” Doogie grinned and slapped her on the back, which only served to make her cough harder.
“Oh man! That was so much fun guys!” Berzhula hopped up and down on the beach, his parachute full of sand behind him. “How often do we get to do that? I hope all the time!”
Leda could only cough again, sitting down on the sand and hanging her head between her knees. Desperately she gestured at Doogie and thankfully the warrior understood her vague question. “Let’s get set up here; who brought the tent?”
Thrall had sent them with 200 additional soldiers. The majority were incredibly young and untrained; most of them looked scared out of their minds as they huddled, shivering on the shore. These were the men Leda was entrusted with – farmers, innkeepers, and mothers. It wasn’t the largest force she’d ever commanded, nor the least prepared, but their situation looked bleak regardless.
The camp was beginning to take form. She’d chosen this shoreline, west of the Harbour as it was the least strategic area. There was no reason at all for any of the Burning Legion to be stationed here because there was nothing to guard, except perhaps an amphibian landing. As she finally got the last of the water out of her nose, Leda looked around. Tents were pitched, fires were started and clotheslines were hung full of sopping wet armour of all shapes and sizes. Guards were placed along the edge of the camp and several rogues and druids were sent ahead to scout out the situation.
And everyone still looked terrified.
“Is this all Thrall could spare?” Doogie murmured out the side of her mouth.
“I’m afraid so. Everyone else is in Northrend, battling the Scourge.”
Cloe walked up from behind them, her cloth robe suspiciously dry, “They all look so scared! I guess the reserve army doesn’t see a lot of action. I remember my first time on the frontlines, I was terrified too. You should say something, y’know, to inspire them!” Her face lit up, “My first commanding officer gave us a big speech and even though I was fresh out of combat training, I was confident.”
Leda grunted. Words and eloquence weren’t really her thing. “Let me go find Iyo.”
The General trudged through the little camp, passing Seishougen who was offering free clothes drying (no singe-free guarantee) and Ren, who was sleeping up against a tree while Brock groomed her hair. She found her brother outside the boundaries of the camp and grumbled at his lack of caution. He was reading, again. Leda found herself sadistically hoping he didn’t bring any other books with him, although she knew it was unlikely. “C’mon Iyo, you’re up.”
“For what?” He didn’t look up from his book.
“I need you to inspire my men. They’re all terrified.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Leda glared back at him.
The camp hushed as the Moonkin stepped up onto an empty crate. The wind whistled through his feathers and his piercing, fierce gaze met each and every eye in the crowd below. He opened his beak and his deep voice carried across the beach, “Our names, familiar in their mouths as household words – General Leda Savagedawn, Doogie and Clothilde, Renegdhen and Seishougen, Emilei and Iyotanka-be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red. This story shall the good Orc teach his son; and Grom Hellscream shall ne'er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered- we few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he to-day that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother!” Iyotanka punched the air, his speech gaining momentum as he reached the end, only to be met with blank stares. The Moonkin turned back to his sister and shrugged, stepping down off the crate.
Leda stepped up and nearly fell backwards off the little crate as her balance failed her. She was met with a few blank stares, but most of the reserve men were back to looking scared. “I have always so behaved myself that, under Thrall, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my men; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my own gain and recognition, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for my Warchief, and for the Horde, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust.” An Orc near the front of the crowd scratched his head.
With a sigh, Leda too stepped down from the crate, her confidence in their continued survival waning. She looked up to find Doogie clearing her throat and readjusting her shield on her arm. “Death must not be feared,” she began, “Death, in time, comes to all of us. And every man is scared in his first action. If he says he's not, he's a gods damned liar. Some men are cowards, yes, but they fight just the same, or get the hell slammed out of them. And so, my fellow Horde: ask not what your Warchief can do for you - ask what you can do for your Warchief!” Cheers and swords banging on shields nearly drowned out the end of the warrior’s speech. Shaking her head, Doogie jumped down from the crate, mumbling about ‘druids and their fancy words.’
A handful of minutes later, night had fallen and it was getting difficult to see. More fires were lit and the smells of hundreds of suppers filled the air. A few skirmishes broke the quiet silence as wild animals were attracted to the smell, but no demons approached their little camp.
Leda had never led an official attack on anything. Her promotion had been a field one and she was merely continuing to follow the orders given to her by her dead commanding officer. As such, she expected her tent (as leader of the whole mission) to be a little more distinct. Instead it looked exactly the same as every other tent. Iyo explained that strategically it made sense. Bombers from above wouldn’t be able to discern her tent from any other tent, although from its position in the middle of the camp, it wouldn’t be difficult to guess.
Inside the plain, ordinary, standard-issue tent a table had been constructed and someone had moved her saddlebag into the corner. Around the table (if one could call such a structure a “table”) members of the 43rd clustered around a map of the island. At its head, their civilian tactician, in his Moonkin form, pushed around various mana berries, nuts and leaves. An intricately carved owl stood in the midst of the fauna, obviously representative of Iyo. Above the table, Seishougen was rigging up a lantern, setting the wick aflame with a puff of his breath.
“If we can secure these two buildings here, we’ll be able to expand our foothold significantly and set up an infirmary for the frontline. Kil’jaeden’s forces will likely be based inside the Sunwell complex itself and we shouldn’t meet much resistance as we move into town.” Iyo slid a few leaves onto the buildings he had indicated, “From there we can stage our attacks on the Sunwell. Hopefully we’ll be able to infiltrate the complex from another entrance – here – while we’re distracting the Legion at the front gates.”
“What’ll the infiltrators end up doin’?” Em asked while munching on the parchment-like rations they were sent with. “Oh! Oh! I know! We could, like hide in there and listen to their secrets. I bet Kil’jaeden is scared of, like, kittens or something.” The rogue snickered and spilled crumbs all over the map.
“Your job will be to cut off Kil’jaeden’s escape, so we can kill him once and for all,” Leda grinned, her hands balling up into fists.
“Whoa, calm down there, Bear. Here, I made us all some herb-baked cod. Get this map out of here, make room!” Ren smirked and swiped the map and its various markers onto the floor. “Eat up! I know I’m starved! We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, after all.”
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