Pre-Mashup: The Shadow of Day.

Namyra was not at all pleased by the current events. She stepped out of her cell, her eyebrows drawn tightly in an annoyed frown. That she was so close to getting everyone out through diplomatic and legal procedures yet all that for naught, now she would be made a criminal in the only suitable town for many miles. The woman who had 'rescued' them from their temporary sentance had claimed the Leiutenant intended to raise the town against them - just sentancing or no - and demand their heads. She had not seen this woman at the Inn or in their jailor's march away from it, but the armour she bore matched her to those two men who had been placed in the cell along with Volnte. She would need to ask him what he had learnt on this shadowy group of Men once they escaped.

Which it looked like they would be doing, for before she could even protest the group - Volnte included - we're bounding up the set of stairs from the dungeons at the woman's all clear. She shook her head, an irritated sigh leaving her lips, before following behind them herself. Even if what the woman had said was false, she didn't want to be caught as the only prisoner to not escape the cells. She reached the top of the stairs as their situation became aparant. A guard was slumped against the wall and while she approved of the peaceful subduing method - it was clear what they were doing was fundementally a bad decision. Kessig wasn't known for its heavy hand in diplomacy or its willingness to join the greater communities of Gabriola. She knew, from Tereesa's appearence here, that the Horde wished its hands in Kessig but this escape would surely jeopardise those plans. Kessig would suffer for it, for the Horde doesn't take kindly to refusals by Men. Blood may well be shed and all because of this previously unknown group's impatience. Direspect for the laws of the lands they found them in.

Namyra tried to calm herself, lest her blood boil and she make a rash decision to put all of these people back in the cells herself, and remembered that the woman may have spoken the truth when it came to the Leuitenant. They reached the lockup room, tables and empty drawers with only their equipment left spread out on wooden tables. It didn't take much to find her equipment, the crystaline sword was laid out and clear for all to see. As if the guards had been inspecting it. So they should have, she thought, they should be in awe of such a fine weapon. The sharp edge came to eye level, she didn't need to inspect the blade - it never dulled - but the way it seemed to reflect not only the torchlight but instead radiated a light from within always marvelled her.

She was lost within its shine for a moment, like a thief admiring a fine necklace, and by the time she had regained herself the rest of the group had all equipped themselves. She hurried to sheathe the blade and collect the few pieces of her equipment that had been taken from her. She flexed her hands inside her gauntlets, ensuring a snug fit, before turning to the rest of the group.

The woman, she can't remember ever having her name but she had heard the name 'Talia' murmured earlier, came back through the door. As the spell shrouding Talia's appearance dissipated Namyra saw a look of worry and - from what Namyra could tell - urgency bore across it. One of the men she was with went to speak, but with a finger to her lips she hushed him. Her hand motioned for them to follow her, and one by one they did. They climb up another flight of stairs, passing the slumped form of two sleeping guards and Namyra lost all fear that Talia hadn't perfectly cleared their path.

They came out into a corridor, to the sound of heated conversation through an adjoining door. A woman's voice was first and as she spoke it rose in emotions of outrage and anger, "He's done what? Rallied the town? He can't just take justice into his own hands like that! We have protocols - rules!"

"Well he's done it," came another voice - this one a males - "they're outside right now. Demanding their heads..." Their conversation continued, but the group had already move on at Talia's lead. She was leading them away from the voices, away from what Namyra recalled as the front of the watch office. Nobody spoke, so close to the guards, and Namyra was well aware of the noise her hooves made on the wooden floor. Her people were not built for urban stealth, unaided by magic. A door was already open for them, and outside Namyra could see the sweet semi-sunlight that blessed Kessig. A garden lay beyond its embrace, or what could pass for a garden in this Light-forsaken Ellek-Bol hole of a town. Even the flowering plants looked withered to Namyra's eyes - the leaves more brown than green. But nature was a well seen reward after her night of tight stone walls. She wouldn't admit it, but the enclosed space brought back uncomfortable memories. Ones that every Draenei bore upon their backs.

Theomund looked over the small group before him as Talia disappeared up the stairs. The Draenei's face was enough to tell him she wasn't pleased about their method of escape, but he wasn't very concerned with her opinion. She exchanged a glance with Volnte, and Theomund was almost convinced that there was indeed some kind of link between the two. If he had just been able to convince the blackguard captain to talk, Theomund would have happily left all of them in the cells. Not that Talia had given him much choice.

It was a problem he was facing more and more recently. When they had first journeyed here, those under Theomund's command had been courteous and quiet, following his commands and keeping their mouth shut. He was certain the reason he hadn't been able to get any information out of the blackguard was Mance's fault. If the man hadn't shown him such disrespect, maybe Volnte would've been a bit more cautious. And with Talia melting off the lock and preparing the blackguards own men to help them escape, it made his threats completely hollow. And she had done so without even consulting him first. His plans for the day at least were completely ruined, and it seemed as though everyone around him meant to thwart his plans.

Impatient and annoyed, he didn't even wait for Talia to announce the all clear. As soon as she had returned around the corner, he made for the steps while she informed the others, taking the steps two at a time and staying on her heels as they made their way to the lockup. He pushed his way in and made for his equipment as soon as Talia had unlocked the door, eyeing them out next to Mance's own weaponry. As he placed his knives back where they belonged, he flexed his hand around a blade, silently hoping he would have a chance to use it. He did his best to play the collected leader, but the savages that surrounded him always made his blood boil.

As he fitted the rest of his knives in his belt, Mance stepped up beside him, running a finger a long the haft of his axe fondly. “You going to caress it, or use it?”

Mance grinned at him, picking up the axe and putting it over his back where it belonged. “I can do both. Just feels good to have me blade again. Never was much o' one for cells lad.”

He scowled at Mance again, longing for the days when the grizzled veteran still called him sir. The respect had been nice while it lasted. A respect he had never received at home, or from any of the other officers. As time went on, it seemed more and more like everyone around him was trying to infuriate him on purpose. Theomund lowered his voice, checking on his gear while Mance did the same. “You shouldn't have interrupted me that way in the cell. You undermined my authority.”

Mance turned back to Theomund and moved closer so the others hopefully wouldn't hear. “It's a bit hard ta' threaten a man you're sharing a cell with lad. Ya weren't makin' any progress n' ya know it. If ya're right an' they is up to somethin', then thar' be more at stake here then ya pride.”

Theomund grunted and slid his sword into his sheathe. Mance was one to talk about pride – Theomund was fairly sure the man had more of it then anyone else he'd ever met. Save those in the royal court perhaps. Still, the veteran had a point, though Theomund would've preferred an apology to an explanation. One of these days, he would teach Mance and Talia to respect him again. And if he couldn't do that, he could at least get them to fear him like the recruits he'd trained back home. Sometimes, it was better to be feared then respected.

Talia returned as everyone seemed to have gathered their equipment, though the look on her face worried Theomund. He had seen the look before, and it wasn't a good sign. He made to ask her what was going on, but his own face turned to scowl as Talia placed a finger over her lips and shushed him. He couldn't believe her nerve, especially in front of these strangers, but there was no time to have it out with her now. He followed her out quietly, using the time to brood over her insolence. The girl constantly infuriated him, even more so then Mance, and he could not understand how she ever convinced anybody to share information with her. She practically wore her emotions on her face, and Theomund often had to scold her for giving away too much. The time for and end to their secrecy seemed to be growing near, but there was no reason for her to forego it all together. And with Mance making promises to the Blackguard captain, it was a wonder the whole world didn't know what they were up to.

They continued along their way without a word, Talia leading them through different hallways, up a staircase, and before long Theomund couldn't be sure which direction they were going any longer. They slowed their pace as they passed a doorway, and Theomund did his best to keep his equipment from making any kind of noise. Though he had not doubted her at all, the words beyond the wall were enough to confirm what Talia had said. The Lieutenant had indeed been rallying the townsfolk against them. He kept himself from dubbing them the savages that they were, and continued along behind her.

As they exited the building and into the gardens, he dropped back a bit to Mance's side as the blackguard Captain passed him and took up the space behind Talia. As they began to run, he looked to Mance, and the veteran looked back. A silent exchange of glances was all the watch captain needed to know that Mance's mind was on the same track as his own. Things could go badly here, and killing an entire city simply wasn't an option. As much as Theomund hated it, if there was no escape to be had, they'd have to make one or fight to the death.

Before long they had crossed over the wooden pathways of Kessig, and back down onto the ground. Theomund tried not to think of the crowd they'd seen forming in front of the Watch Office, and hoped that everything went smoothly. There was some relief at least that the gate was now in sight. As Talia called for them not to kill anyone, it seemed her mind had went to the same place as his own and Mance's. She was softer then anyone he'd ever met in the watch, and still could not understand the reasons behind sending her on this trip. Or why she'd even been allowed to join the watch in the first place.

The hope that their escape would go off without a hitch dropped as the face of the Lieutenant appeared before them as they sprinted towards the gate. Theomund couldn't imagine what had brought the man there, but his decision took away the chance of making this a quiet escape. He was certain the man wasn't expecting them their, but as the lieutenant's face grew an evil smile, Theomund's own turned into a scowl. The cocky bastard thought he was going to enjoy this, and yet he had no idea what he was facing up against.

“So the outsiders escaped and are trying to run away from justice, eh?”

“You may want to move, Lieutenant, you seem to have brought too few men to this party.”

As the lieutenant's laughed, it seemed that no one intended to give him time to retort. The charge was almost instant, as Darmyra, Mance, and Volnte charged the five men standing before the gate. Confident in Mance's ability to handle the men, if not the blackguard Captains or the Draenei's, Theomund called for Talia and headed for the gate itself around the others. There were more guards then just those thugs of the lieutenant, and they were currently trying to wedge the gate. Theomund pulled a knife from his hand on the run, but Talia grabbed his wrist as he made to let it fly. Furious, he turned towards her, but she stared him down.

“We don't need to kill them. . . Captain.”

Angrily, he put his knife away as the guards fled to the right, and up the stairway to top of the wall. He had lost his opportunity to stop the guards from jamming the gates, but not from hindering their progress. Theomund turned to chase the guards up the wall, with Talia behind them, but they didn't have enough of a headstart to catch them before the guardsmen began firing arrows at them. It was clear they weren't exceptionally skilled as the first arrow flew over Theomund's shoulder, and he took his shield off his back, managing to block the second as the arrow embedded itself in his shield. He felt the heat of a spell from Talia fly past him, a bolt of fire streaking into the foremost guardsmen as he drew a second arrow. It collided with the guardsman's hand, catching his bow aflame and knocking the man backwards to the hard stone of the wall.

Theomund caught the second guards arrow on his shield, topping the stairway with a charge straight for the archer. The man made for his sword but was too slow, and Theomund's shield collided with his face. The impact sent him toppling sideways over the top of the wall, crashing into the inside of the wall. He'd likely have a few broken bones, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with Talia berating him about 'slaughter.' The green girl needed to warm up to the reality of the world before it killed her, as far Theomund was concerned.

She was still dealing with the second guardsman when he turned back, binding his hands behind his back with some of the nearby robe strewn across the wall. It seemed her fireball had drawn the attention of more guards however, as two other guards were running towards them with swords drawn. Theomund drew his own blade to engage the patrol, stalking past Talia with a strong desire to kill these two instead of letting them live. There could be no mistake that he was killing in self defense, even if Talia didn't like it. The first man reached him with his sword held overhead, and Theomund blocked the guards swing with his shield, the wood splintering a bit as they collided. He booted the man in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs and causing him to drop his sword. Theomund kicked the guardsman's sword of the top of the wall before parrying a blow from the second man's blade.

The clash of metal rang across the battlements as the second guardsmen and Theomund locked blades. This man was older and clearly a much better combatant then the other guards of Kessig that Theomund had seen so far. For a moment, Theomund found himself on the defense, but he had all of the experience his opponent did, without the slow of speed and strength with age. Their blades clashed for nearly a minute before a strong blow from Theomund sent the guardsman's blade spinning out of the wall and into the brush below. The old man bent over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

“I. . . I yield. . . .”

“That you do.” Theomund brought the blunt of his blade across the man's temple without mercy, knocking him unconsciousness and splitting his head open. With a scoff, Theomund spat on the ground by the two guardsmen, bringing a swift kick to the younger man he'd disabled with a boot. These men weren't fit to fight anything, and Theomund felt he'd have done the world a better service if he burned this whole city to the ground and all of it's inhabitants with it.

“Captain...?”

Theomund turned to Talia pointing back into the town, and his gaze drifting over the mob of people approaching. He didn't even have time to open his mouth as wall shook beneath them and an explosion of light and sound stunned him in place. As he regained his senses, Theomund saw the molten metal flying into the mob of savage civilians, cutting through them as they screamed. For a brief moment he found himself smiling, but the mortified look on Talia's face ruined his demeanor yet again.

“Let's move, quick.”

Theomund ran down the nearby steps, back down towards the gate, Talia trailing behind him. He knew she would have a problem with this later, but for now the gate was open and it was time to get out of this place. Quickly reaching the bottom, Theomund ran for the gate and through the rubble, seeing Mance and the others had already made it outside.

“We need to move before they come back to their senses!”

Theomund scowled at the blackguard captain as they ran to the horses. A quick escape was obviously needed. If they would have managed to escape the death sentence before, there would be no doing so now. The residents of Kessig had been unable to tame the forest around them, and it seemed now they would pay the price. But they would not forgive the destruction so easily, he expected. Hopping onto his own horse in full sprint, he swung his leg over the warhorse and fit his foot into the stirrup. He jabbed his heels into the animals sides, and the beast reared back for a moment then began charging down the road.

He knew that Talia and Mance would be close behind him, but he wondered whether the others would follow. He was still curious about what blackguard and draenei were up too, but in Theomund's mind there were more important things to accomplish. They were already behind schedule as it was. Snapping the horses reigns, he galloped away from the city as quickly as he could in the direction of Borderblight.

Namyra had handled the two rogue guards that approached her with attacks seemingly too dexterous for someone of her size. The first guard to approach her, hammer and shield raised for a fight, found his shield arm smashed aside by an astonishingly powerful blow from her crystalline sword. Before his hammer could raise to a defensive position, the Draenei had already twisted her body around using the momentum from her swing and planted a hoof in the smaller man's chest. His armour meant little to her hooves, and the man fell backwards with his, albeit thin, chest piece crumpled inwards like paper.

The second man attempted to blindside her with a swing from a greatsword. Using the more jagged edge of her purple blade to deflect his blow into the ground and lock it in place, Namyra slid her sword up his blade and into his unguarded face. Luckily for the man, Namyra hadn't intended to kill him - it was the gem-tipped pommel that connected with his face and sent him sprawling backwards in an arch of fresh blood. Her battle was over before it truly started, and she managed the time to watch Mance lift two guards off the floor and crush them into each other. That brought a smile to her face, reminding her of the male Draenei back home and the feats of strength they would perform in battle - not unlike the one Mance just demonstrated.

Namyra was on the verge off offering the two men attempting to open the door her aid when she heard the mob round the corner. Her sword bared at the distant gathering, she held it out behind her ready to strike at the first to approach her. A Vindicator was supposed to abide by all the local laws of the lands they found herself in, but if breaking those laws was the only step between life and death... Even murder was authorised. The life of a Draenei is worth more than persecution at the hands of a Human mob.

She was surprised to hear the magical explosion erupt behind her, the spray of sharp wooden slithers spraying out over her - colliding with the crowd before her amongst fragments of useless molten metal. Several villagers fell backwards in pain or shock, the rest turned around and fled. It was clear that they thought themselves attacked by a greater force and even Namyra turned to see what had caused such an explosion. Volnte had told them to stand back, but surely he didn't have the power to destroy the structure?

The outstretched arms of the Elven Ambassador from the dungeon, Ms Skyshard, greeted Namyra. She could almost hug the Elf, and Namyra ran for the exit before the dust even settled. She had no mount, this journey required no use of her Talbuk, but she ran for the collected mounts nonetheless. Volnte extended his hand down to her and she grabbed it, hefting her not inconsiderable weight upon to the strong Muertian Warhorse. The sinewy back felt strange beneath her, it had been a long time since she had ridden a Horse. While most animals used as beasts of transport rode the same, Horses were uncomfortable to the Draenei.

In a normal circumstance she would have preferred to run beside the Human's favoured mounts. But even she could not match a Horse in full gallop and she imagined that would soon be the case. She turned to see her temporary companions, noting that the Muertian girl rode with a member of the Blackguard and Tereesa rode with another. The Horses seemed completely unfazed by the extra weight, Namyra speculated some magic or other outside influence was poured into their breeding stock many generations ago.

The three strangers, the ones called Mance, Theomund and Talia, didn't waste any time in leaving the scene. "We should follow them," Namyra quietly spoke behind Volnte, "the larger the group the safer we are, in this forest." Volnte seemed to agree with her words, for he and his men soon rode after the dark trio - carrying their passengers with then. Is was almost as soon as they entered the deep woods that Namyra's words struck with truth, for a deep inhuman bellow echoed through the woods.

---

"HRAAAAAGH"

The slicing of metal through scale, meat and bone was joyous to the ears of this one. His spare hand gripped tightly on two appendages, thick fingers piercing thin membranes that were used as wings by the beast he stood atop. With a sharp tug the creature yowled in pain and fear. Yes, fear, for this intelligent predator had chosen a prey that bit back - hard. The membranous appendage came free from its socket, from it's scales and straight from the body.

With victorious laughter, the limb was thrown aside and the jagged axe raised again for a killing blow. The scales on the beasts head parted, as did flesh and eventually the crunch of bone. But the axe did not stop, once the bone had broken the axe sped up once more. It buried deep within a plump fleshy organ, the grey mass spurting blood as the axe bit deeply into it. The body below the warrior pulsated, writhing along the ground. The warrior leapt from the death throes, his great bulk landing in a running roll that got him outside the radius of the thrashing beast. A sharp tail whipped over his head, slicing a tree almost in two. The plant cracked, snapped and fell forwards - toppling atop the beast and crushing it completely.

A great black beast almost toppled into the warrior at that moment, but the prepared warrior reached a hand out an grabbed something dangling from the beasts side. He used it to pull himself onto the running animal, and landed perfectly into what seemed to be a primitive saddle. He pulled back on the piece in his hands and the beast came to a stop, the great brown hand of the warrior stretched down to pat the panting beast. His rough fingers found a purchase in its scraggly black fur. "Gro'ral, Lo'gor." spoke the warrior to the beast, and with no physical urging on the riders behalf the beast begun it's sprint through the dense woodlands of Kessig.

---

The group of Horses - Muertian and otherwise - came to a slow halt quite a distance away from the walls of Kessig. They had taken many turns, and most of the journey had been off the tracks and roads used by the natives. Where they slowed could barely be considered a clearing, but the space formed between these trees and bushes was enough to house the group as they stopped.

Namyra was the first to dismount, her discomfort on the Horse was clear as she twisted her back to ease it. She looked to her temporary grouping and finally begun to think how this affected her plans for the region. None of them knew her purpose here, but she suspected more than one of them had a similar goal in mind. But how far could they be used for her gain, she wondered. She could certainly use the Blackguard's numbers and it pained her to admit she had lost her bearings in the forest and the Trio seemed to know where they were heading.

But the thick fog of subterfuge still hung in the air, she did not know the purpose of any of these people in this region. Nor they hers, and she could imagine that some of them itched to find that out.

An enormous beast suddenly leapt free of the foliage, Namyra raised her sword and it was clear from the sounds around her that several members of the group also readied their weapons and even offensive magics to fight off the sudden intrusion. "Hold, Humans!" roared a deep gravely voice, even with the command that the voice issued forth rung a hint of mirth and even excitement. The great black beast, clearly a giant canine of some sort, came to a sudden halt amongst the group and on it's back could clearly be seen a bulky brown figure, a thick black braid extended from his head of hair down his back. "I am Brox of the Spinetooth Clan! I come to you in peace!" His deep blue eyes turned over each member of the group. More Humans than he was truly comfortable with and a Draenei of all people. He quickly bowed his head in reverence to the Draenei, before turning back to look at the hooded figure perched behind one of the Blackguard Warriors. "Miss Tereesa. You summoned aid?"

The Elf looked up from the swirling blue orb held in her grasp, "They are nearing." She said, mostly speaking to the Orc named Brox - but giving eye contact to a few of the members of the group.

The Orc grunted, but it seemed it was merely short laughter. "Ambassador Skyshard, you underestimate my abilities."

---

Some distance away, the thunderous roaring of hooves beat against the fallen foliage of the forest floor. The darkness dared not enclose around these hardened warriors, covered in plate armour and wielding grand swords and shields embellished with the Sigil of the Knights of Kessig. "We close on them, Brothers!" The lead Knight shouted, and with his free hand he lowered the face on his full plate helmet.

Then he rose from his saddle into the canopy. He screamed as he flew up into the air, and fell silent soon after. Four more Knights quickly followed him, their armour getting caught on hidden traps in the foliage - pressure sensitive hooks that latched into the armour and yanked the prey into the sky. But the hooks were purely artificial, not some cruel beast of the forests (although they had indeed been designed after one such animal from the far south-west). Rope and metal pulled the Knights from their horses, and in the canopy they were struck unconscious by wooden clubs. The remaining Knights looked up, yet could see nothing but the rustling of trees in the winds. From this rustling came a sharp whistle, followed by a heavy weighted net. It fell upon the riders - causing Horse and Knight alike to fall to the ground. The final half a dozen or so Knights tried in vain to free themselves from the heavy netting. Some begun to slice at it with daggers, others attempted to push it of them - the Horses scrambled and whinnied their fear.

Blue figures dropped from the trees, their tall forms converged upon the Knights. Several held weapons: bows, axes or clubs. But one in particular held a tall gnarled staff, capped with a beast's skull. He knelt down next to one of the Knights, he spoke in a broken accent - and his words seemed sincere. "We be sorry, mon. We wish it could'a gone bettah fo' yah. Fo' us both." His thick three didgeted hand dropped to a leather pouch on his side, and pulled a pinch of some green powder. His lips parted around his tusks, and blew the powder over the Knight's face. The Human's eyes turned over, exposing the whites momentarily, before he dropped to the floor. The blue one proceeded to perform the ritual on each of the trapped Humans, before releasing the enchantment upon the net. His companions came over and tugged the net gently from the Horses, who quickly bolted a distance away. "Round da beasts up, put de Men on 'em. Dey'll go 'ome."

---

Another figure appeared in the clearing housing Namyra and her traveling party, this one a tall lanky blue male that dropped from the canopy above - swinging down from a branch with incredible dextrousness. The being was clearly a Galabrashi Troll, his blue skin marked by tribal tattoos and his purple hair spiked into a Mohawk. Several bands were wrapped from his arms, and from these and his nose dangled a number of seemingly primitive carvings of wood, stone and bone. Although some were clearly not carved, and were merely animal skeletal parts. The Troll came to a halt next to the Orc, and spoke to him only "Dey be taken care of, Brox." although his beady eyes looked warily over the assorted group of Humans, but paused confused at the Draenei and the Elf. Clearly he did not know why two outstanding people would be rolling around in, or with, the dirt so much.

Tereesa gently slid from the Horse she was mounted upon, striding towards the Orc like she owned these woods. She turned to the traveling group, "I offer you all safe passage through these woods back to the Gold Road, from there you can follow it East or West." She looked at the Draenei in particular, but still spoke openly, "These woods are dangerous, you would be wise to leave them."

The Muertian girl was the first to accept the offer, "I'll go with you." She said as she dropped from the back of the Blackguard's horse. She gingerly stepped towards the Orc and his wolf, who grinned at the thin Human girl and the anxiety he clearly caused her. "I want to get out of these woods." She added to the Warrior, and the Orc lowered his hand and easily pulled the girl onto his mount.

Namyra turned to Volnte, she felt tied to him for a short while at least. No matter his decision she could maintain her own course - from the Gold Road or from instructions from the Horde, who most likely knew which was the best way to proceed through the forest towards her destination.