The Life and Times of Ashenrock Pumastrike

Demonaro was frantically searching for answers. The parchments laid out in front of him did nothing to quench his thirst for knowledge concerning the Lich King and the Death Knights. "I MUST KNOW MORE, DAMMIT!" He slammed his fists down hard on the table.

Ashenrock appeared at the doorway. "Brother, are you allright?"

Demonaro settled himself a bit and without looking up at his War Chief brother said "I am fine. I'm just trying to discover more about these Death Knights.

Ashenrock raised his eyebrows "I don't know what your fascination with them is...it's unhealthy. Come...I need you to be at the Grot induction tonight." Ashenrock's voice was trailing off as he made his way down the hall and away from Demo's room.

Demonaro stood staring at the empty doorway his brother had just vacated and mumbled "This clan sickens me. Soon, brother, you will learn what "unhealthy" is." He turned and gathered his things before setting out. As he strode through the door he thought to himself: "Soon brother, soon I will be more powerful then you could ever imagine me to be!"

Lightning flashed. Seconds later the thunder crept out of the fields of wheat among the plains of Mulgore. Demonaro breathed in heavily to absorb the energy around him. A Shaman could feel the elements as if they were limbs...stretching and flexing while they released their energy. He then looked to the sky as the heavy rain beat down on his pale, white face. He then opened his mouth and let out a violent roar that chased back the thunder.

"I have stood in shadows for far too long." he said in his mind. "It is time for me to take my place as a force in this world." He cradled a large pack across his shoulders that contained the various study materials from his work over the months past. He was about to venture into lands unknown by anyone in Thunder Bluff. Lands cursed and ruled by evil and negative energy. "I leave a healer...and I will return a God among these mortals." With that he began his trek with only a cryptic letter as his goodbye goodbye to his friends and family. He was convinced that he would never face them in fondness again.

"JIN'TAL!" Ashenrock's voice hung heavy in the Stonard air. He was obviously agitated. Jin'tal rolled over and planted his large, troll feet on the floor, rubbed the gunk out of his eyes, and sighed heavily. No morning ever began peacefully. "JIN'TAL!" The bellowing was getting closer and Jin'tal fought the urge to stealth into obscurity. Instead he responded "Watchu want? Can't a troll be sleepin' past da crack o dawn fo once..." Ashenrock appeared in his doorway, wearing nothing but a very large towel around his waist. The large, muscular tauren's jet black fur seemed glued to his body by the water that had not been removed. "Yo mon! No time ta dress fo me, eh? Ya coulda least combed ya hair!" Ashenrock's gaze got angry "Demonaro is missing. My father just arrived and says that his house was cleaned out of food, water, and other supplies. Demo cleaned him out." Jin'tal retorted "How in da nine hells ya be knowin' it be da blanc cow dat robbed `im? An why in da nine hells would `e rob is own papa?"

A raspy voice preceded the old, noble tauren following Ashenrock as he came into the doorway. "He left this." Rocksalt Pumastrike handed Jin'tal the letter. The elder tauren's eyes were still as kind as ever. He'd faced so much hardship during his lifetime, but had never once complained. He treated everyone as if they were his best friend. Jin'tal had always admired Rocksalt and could never understand how both of his sons grew up without picking up on their father's gentleness. Jin'tal turned his attention to the parchment in his hands:

"I am leaving these lands a pawn but will return one day as a king. You won't find me so don't bother looking. One day I'll find you.

-Demonstrike"

"Demonstrike?" Jin'tal looked up at Ashenrock quizzically. "When Demo was younger he had a hard time summoning the elements at first. He was teased by some of the other students until one day when he saved a group of them from a crazed warlock. He mustered his strength and with one forceful strike he obliterated the human's Void Walker companion. The old man nearly had a heart attack as he fled without his protection. The kids gave him the nickname." Ashenrock's voice was hollow as he recalled the story. "It's just a short combination of his full name, too. Demonaro Pumastrike." Rocksalt chimed in though "His mother hated the name...said it was pompous and represented an evil tone. She told him never to use it."

Ashenrock bristled "I stopped paying attention to him when I assumed responsibility for the Grin. He hated this clan to begin with. What do you suppose he's up to?" Jin'tal knew exactly what he was up to, though he couldn't bring himself to believe it. "Da fool cow is headed to da dark lands ta find a death knight fo himself ta study. He's aimin' ta become one." Rocksalt "Damn kid's out of his mind. He's going to get himself killed, Ash."

The three discussed the fate of their fallen man for some time after that, deciding that there was no way they could follow him or track him. They would have to wait and see what happened, praying for the best.

Rocksalt Pumastrike turned his attention to his other long-time companion. Mirage laid in front of the fire paying no mind to the other two residents of the house. Mirage was a ghostly sight. Rocksalt had found him ages ago above the Night Elf haven of Darkshire. Mirage seemed to be a ghost as his fur played tricks on the mind. You would swear that you could see right through him. "You'll be my eyes, old friend I'm too old to be doing this, so I need you to guide me through the lands." Mirage just yawned. "Such a lazy cat." Rocksalt thought to himself. Then he reached down and put his hand on the massive head of his other companion, Tycho.

Tycho was a massive, frost bear. His fur was as white as the snow Rocksalt had found him in. It was in the hills above Ironforge that Rocksalt had freed the gentle giant from a dwarven trap. Tycho imediately returned the favor by dispatching two frost sabers that had been tracking Rocksalt. The old tauren laughed whistfully. "One last adventure, old friend. One last adventure to fuel the fires. You'll be my brawn." The bear awoke and lifted his head and grunted in a favorable way.

Rocksalt poured himself a tall glass of tea and sipped slowly. He hadn't figured he would ever venture out of Mulgore again. But here he was getting ready to venture into lands that he'd never been to before. If it hadn't been under these terrible circumstances, he might be excited. Instead, though, he was full of fear and uncertainty. He was going to track his son. A son who had turned his back on his family and on his pride. Rocksalt didn't want to think of their next meeting as he knew it would most likely be their last. Demonaro would not come home quietly.

Ashenrock and Jin'tal were far too busy with the Blacktooth Grin to go searching for him. So the old tauren decided that he would go it alone. Ashenrock was not happy about it. Rocksalt knew that his eldest son wanted to go with him. Rocksalt knew that Ashenrock wouldn't sleep well while Demonaro was on the loose. The two boys had grown so close, but Demonaro was always so jealous of his older brother. His jealousy finally turned him against all he knew to be right. Ashenrock, on the other hand, had always gone out of his way to care for his brother. Rocksalt knew that at this very moment Ashenrock was most likely pulling his hair out worrying.

Salt finished his tea, made sure that his equipment was good to go, and then climbed i to bed. The morning would be interesting.

"JIN'TAL!"

"Dammit all, mon. Wat dat cow want now???" Jin'tal the Betrayed awoke to the all-to-familiar sound of Ashenrock bellowing yet again. Suddenly the War Chief appeared in the doorway. "At least he be dressed dis time." the troll thought to himself. Ashenrock was, as usual, less than chipper this morning. "I cannot let him go alone! Please tell me that you can go along with him!" Ashenrock had a mild sense of desperation lingering in his voice. "Who, mon? Who ya want me be goin' wit?" Jin'tal was tired and confused.
"My father is going after Demonaro. I can not go as I have responsibilities here. Father will not listen to reason...he thinks it's yet another adventure."

Jin'tal took a moment to absord the conversation. Ever since Sindal, Ashenrock's mother, had died old Salt had been filling the hole in his heart by embarking on grand journeys. It wasn't until about two years ago that the tauren had finally decided to retire a bit in Mulgore. Salt had covered most of Azeroth and Kalimdor on his travels, and had collected some amazing treasures and memories. The stories were endless. Now Ashenrock was concerned about his father venturing out again. Sure Salt was a bit older, but he was more fit and stronger than most of the Grin. Saddle that with his two traveling companions and Jin'tal would hate to be anyone that crossed them on their journey.

"I t'ink ya be too concerned ya big fool. Yo poppa be no stranger ta da hunt. Findin' da blac cow should be a breeze fo da old tauren." Ashenrock sighed impatiently. "My father is too old to be journeying into lands that he's never been to before. Tycho and Mirage can't keep him safe from things that they don't know exist. Please, Betrayed, honor your code and watch out for him." Rock only used that name for Jin'tal when he meant business...and he never brought up the code of honor. He was obviously worried. The thought of losing both his brother and father must have been tearing him up. Losing his mother had played havoc with him for ages. Jin'tal took comfort in the fact that Ashenrock trusted him enough to protect his own father. "Allrighty, mon. Quit yo yappin'. I be goin' ta follow `em."

Ashenrock sighed in relief. "Thank you old friend. You are truly family. I'm sorry that I brought up the code..." Jin'tal waved him off. "Don be worried, mon. It be forgotten."

Ashenrock sat in his hut, unable to concentrate on meditation. His brother was lost, his father and best friend were leaving to find him, one of his officers was lost in life, and there was nothing that he could do about it. The path of the druid had always been one of atience and simple understandings. Answers always came at a pace easily maintained. These days, though, answers were absent. Ashenrock was quickly becoming tired of trying to balance his teachings, morals, and religion.

It was time to hold council with his old mentor again. Narra would be in Thunder Bluff. He prayed that she could guide him.

Ashenrock turned his attention to a gift that had been bestowed on him by his predecessor shortly before his death. Gorfrunch had presented Ashenrock a finely crafted blade after his promotion to Raider...a blade that could only be handled with both hands. He walked up to it and lifted it from it's stand. It was lighter than he remembered. He had remarked to Gorfrunch as to how awesome a warrior had to be in order to wield such an instrument so expertly. As a druid, Ashenrock had little weapons training and he sorely wished that he knew how to use this blade.

After some fumbling, and a drop or two, Rock finally felt the blade in his hands more comfortably. He could even swing it rather gracefully from side to side. It was right then that he decided that he would ask Yagyu to teach him how to use it. This would give Rock the training he wished for, and let him get closer to his officer. Hopefully Yagyu would agree to it.

With that, Rock replaced the blade to it's hilt and sat down. He realized that playing with the blade had let him focus...and he closed his eyes, able to meditate now that he had the ability to concentrate. A moment of peaceful tranquility filled his mind and he was truly greatful for that.

Mirage blinked back from his stealth in time to tear a frost wolf from the air as it leaped towards Rocksalt. The canine landed on the ice below with a thud. "More from the south!" cried Salt as 3 more wolves joined the hunt. Salt fired an arrow that tore through one of the wolves eyes. The other two didn't even flinch. Just as they entered striking distance, Tycho broke through a snowbank, flanking them. With a terrible roar the great bear landed on one of them as he caught the leg of the other in his mouth. He whipped his head around fiercely, throwing the helpless wolf right into the waiting claws of Mirage...who then made it certain that the foolish dog would live no more.

As the three travelers calmed from the fight, Salt took a deep breath and brushed the snow from his trousers. "Good work, my friends. I told you that we still had it in us!" Salt felt like a kid again. The blood was pumping like it used to, and the old tauren was in better shape then most of the younger explorers he had met along the way in his days.

As he was basking in his glory, he sudenly heard a muffled noise from directly behind him. He saw Tycho's eyes widen as the big bear saw what was behind his master. Just as Salt turned to see what was about to hit him, a figure appeared from the shadows, plunging his 2 blades into a giant snow leopard that was inches from tearing Salt's leg from his torso. The big cat whimpered in pain as it fell to the snow. The figure then sliced accross the cat's throat...ending its life.

"Jin'tal!" Salt exclaimed. "Why does all da damn cows in yer family yell my name? No one knows `ow ta talk in a normal volume, no?" Salt laughed. "No doubt my son sent you to follow his old, weak, dad into the depths of hell?" "I tried ta tell `im dat you be all right on yer own, pop...but da damn fool cow made me follow ya anyway."

Salt wasn't the least bit unhappy by this turn of events. Jin'tal was a welcome companion. He was a great rogue, a funny troll, and one of the best cooks that he had ever known. Weary from eating nothing but overcooked kodo for the last few days, he offered "So what do you reckon you can do with wolf and leopard meat?" Jin'tal chuckled "No problem, mon. We be eatin' well tanight. Den ya can tell me what ya plan be."

The arrival of Primal Torntusk, the leader of the Revantusk Tribe, had brought some excitement to the Grin. Ashenrock had never made secret of his ties to the clan, but no one thought they ran so deep. For the Primal to come and personally offer her aid to him at his time of need was truly noteworthy. As she readied her raptor for departure she gave Ashenrock a firm salute. "I be sendin' da aid I promised da moment I hit da gates." "Thrall won't be pleased to learn of you helping the leader of the Blacktooth Grin, you know." Torntusk laughed gleefully. "We ain't be part of da' horde. We just be friendly to da cause. Dat fool Orc `elped save us in da past, but you and ya brodder done yer part too. Yas be family, Rock. Da Revantusk no be turnin' backs on dat. T'rall needs us fer supply runnin'. He won't dare make mention o dis." With that she hopped on her reptile and sped off into the misty, Stonard air.

Ashenrock smiled. He was happy to have true friends at his side when he needed it most. He realized that he had been putting too much time into diplomatic relations...and not enough time into the face of the guild, and certainly not enough time invested in his friends and family. It was time for him to lead, not observe. As he walked into his quarters he stopped a minute to think of Demonaro. He was no longer saddened by his departure, but he was still frustrated by all of the chaos surrounding him. His eye caught the blade again. He picked it up and began to toy with it. His mind settled instantly. He decided to forgo his meditation and practice with the blade a bit. He didn't understand what hypnotic property the cold, forged, steel held. He was certain that he must know more though.

Yag had recently arrived back at Stonard after the trip to Alterac. He felt refreshed if a bit saddle-sore. Unpacking his gear from Grimfang, he walked into the Inn and made directly for his quarters, passing Ashenrock’s quarters on the way. As he walked past the partly open door, something caught his eye and he stopped. It was Ashenrock, clumsily flailing about with the ceremonial dagger given to him by Gorfrunch.

Yagyu would have laughed at the comical sight the tauren presented, slashing at the empty air and nearly falling over in the process but something in Ashenrock’s concentration held his attention. Despite the Warchief’s obvious unfamiliarity with edged weapons, he could see the intensity etched into his face and the raw desire to perfect his skills. Yag stood silently in the doorway watching for a moment, then passed into his own quarters.

As he unpacked his belongings, he thought back to his conversation with Galvangar. The orc was right of course. Loyalty was certainly the most important thing. But what if the Warchief was betraying the clan? He had to find out for himself. As he pondered this question he came to the realization that he knew virtually nothing of this new Warchief and he had only himself to blame. He had been so wrapped up in his own problems, worries, and concerns that he had thought nothing of the rest of the Clan. Vord was in trouble, He had not seen Nodo in ages, and this new crop of Grots was in desperate need of training. He hadn’t even made time for a fishing trip with Felora and Yalim.

Well, there were some mistakes he could rectify. He would make a point to talk to the Warchief. Maybe he would even be open to learning a thing or two about bladework. He nodded to himself as he made his decision. He would get to know this new Warchief and find out for himself what his character was truly made of.

Felora led Tamar's bulk into Stonard with a neutral glance to one of the many guards that stood watch beside the southern gate. Evening had filled the swamp with stillness; the courtyard was quiet but for the crackle of bonfires and the low whispers of grots that had not yet succumbed to sleep.

Since making Stonard their new home, the Grin had swiftly transformed the little rural outpost into a full-fledged military base, filling the inn with the cots and hammocks of the enlisted ranks and forcing those who had not yet proved themselves to sleep outside beneath the murky canopy of trees and sky. The clan had been forced to move so often in the past months that Felora was grateful for the little bastion of civilization that Stonard had offered them.

Pulling the gear from her kodo and letting him loose into the makeshift pen behind the inn, Felora set her saddle on one of the racks near the wall and wearily made her way into the building and mounted the staircase to the upper rooms. She settled herself onto her cot with a tiny sigh, her brow creased with her thoughts.

Several of her clanmates were in strife, and she had been nearly oblivious to their suffering, no thanks to her own selfish depression. After all these months, things still didn't feel right. They felt blurry, smeared. Faquarl's death had marked her in a way that even the Nightmare hadn't been able to, and she was finding the loneliness hard to shake off. Still, she couldn't help but feel that she was needed by her clan, to heal them not just physically but perhaps emotionally as well.

She was most concerned for Ashenrock, perhaps because she had seen neither hide nor hair of him in the last two weeks. He was busy, she knew; it was no easy task to lead this clan. But the Chieftain seemed increasingly distracted by something, and Felora was loathe to bother him, feeling that she might only get in the way. Yagyu seemed to have noticed it as well, but he too had been keeping to himself - Felora knew that she was not the only one to worry about her friends. Something felt wrong, and Felora was getting the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with that mercenary warlock that kept creeping about. She frowned and bit her lip. Perhaps Gorfrunch's decision to allow mercenaries to work within the clan was turning out to be less than ideal.

What would Faquarl have done?

Felora grimaced at the thought. He certainly would have told her to get off of her haunches and take an assertive position in the whole ordeal. She leaned toward the doorway to her quarters and caught a glimpse of Ashenrock in the near center of his own room, holding the dagger that Gorfrunch had given him. His concentration was immediately evident, and Felora tilted her head in order to see better. Was the Chieftain thinking of walking a different path all together?

Yagyu walked past her doorway as if from nowhere, and Felora looked down quickly, suddenly feeling as though she had been eavesdropping on an unheard conversation. She turned and rose from the bed, stepping across to the little table which served as her altar. She carefully watered a tiny potted plant which set off to one side and struck a match to light the single white candle in its stone holder. Kneeling, she offered a silent prayer to Therazane, that She might offer strength and support to those who sought it.

She leaned back and her face twisted slightly in a little half smile. She only hoped that Ashenrock would find what he was looking for.

"NO GROTS I MEAN A STRAIGHT DAMN LINE"

Shadiel looked out over his new found charges and sighed. The new recruits kept him busy, busier than he had ever been while training with the Master. Chief Ashenrock supposed that Shadiel could do the job and thrust him in the middle of it. The mage didn't know why he was given this role. Maybe it was to keep him out of the politics he loved so dearly to play, or just to annoy the only Sythegar mage in the Grin. Either way he was stuck with recruits who gawked and stared at a Blood Elf of whom they had naturally been raised to mock and revile.

Shadiel chanted quickly and a frost lance struck one of the slower moving Grots. "Straight Line, Straight line, A STRAIGHT DAMN LINE GROT."

Shadiel heard someone laughing behind him. Looking over his shoulder he sees the Chief nod and then walk off. It was good to see the Chief smile at least a little. He was tense these days, he rarely came out. Shadiel would have liked to have visited but he was too busy and inevitably the Chief had always gotten on him for attempting at casual conversation to avoid his duties.

"For the love of all that is holy and Evil what the LIVING HELL ARE YOU DOING GROT?" Yes, it was certainly going to be one of those days, weeks, months. He would still have to see about bringing some booze by the Chief's a little later.

Ashenrock was delighted by the amusement he felt. Shadiel didn't understand just how well he was doing with the recruits and it was written across his face. He watched as the Elf tried in vain to get the new grots to bow to his will. They were quite a confused bunch. "Straight Line, Straight line, A STRAIGHT DAMN LINE GROT." Shadiel yelled, clearly frustrated. Ashenrock laughed out loud this time, unable to contain his glee. The elf shot him a quick glance over his shoulder and Ashenrock simply nodded his head and decided to walk off, leaving Shadiel to his madness. Shadiel was a good officer. He did all that was asked of him without question and Rock knew that if anyone could get the troops in line...it was him.

As he walked through Stonard, he reflected on the past few weeks. The Grin was growing, and growing stronger. Yagyu's patrol had seen a record turnout and it really had boosted moral. His disagreement with Huizopotl had caused the quick-tempered troll to once again leave the Grin. This unsettled Rock a bit, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he rubbed someone the wrong way. Perhaps time would heal that rift. He then thought of Yagyu. Yagyu was the perfect fit to take Pokes' place as Warlord and he would promote him as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The orc had definitely been troubled by something, but Rock was unsure if it was the Grin or a personal matter that troubled him. Rock figured that when the time was right, Yagyu would talk to him about it. Perhaps the promotion would help him see that Ashenrock's respect for his talents and experience. . For the time being, though, he thought it best to stay focused on the rest of the clan. Rue had decided to take a leave of absence in order to deal with some personal matters. Felora was less involved than ever and Rock missed her council...she was a steady hand when he needed calm and focus. Also Bellmont had been around less and less. Rock had not trusted the rogue since his episode with Faquarl and was never truly sure of his loyalties. This was placing the burden of responsibilities on Himself, Yagyu and Oroki. Soon there might be a need to shake up the ranks a bit...but for now he would wait.

Rock's own personal matters seemed to be troubling him a bit...but they were getting less-an-less agonizing. Having Jin'tal working with his father seemed to ease that worry a bit. Demonaro's insanity still weighed heavy on him though. Ashenrock was sure that it was somehow his fault that his brother had gone mad. Had he neglected him too much and forced him into a situation that he hated? He shrugged it off and decided to go play with his blade some more. That would calm him down. He wanted to be a little better with it before he got some training from Yagyu...he didn't want to completely embaress himself.

The bitter wind stung Jin'tal's face as they rode into the unknown reaches of Northrend. It had been a long time since he had truly felt lost. Rocksalt had been tracking Demonaro for weeks and it seemed they were nipping at his heels now. The thought of bringing his old friend home was the one thing that kept driving him on this quest.
Jin'tal's raptor was not happy at all as it bucked and protested almost every step at this point. This environment was so foreign to the both of them.

"Keep the pace!" Salt yelled to him. "Tycho's got him! He can't be too much farther ahead at this point!". Jin'tal watched the great, white, bear move effortlessly through the deep snow. At least one of them felt at home in this place. As Tycho reached the top of a drift he stopped, looked back at them, and let out a shallow roar. He had spotted something.

Rocksalt got up there first. The snow drift they were standing on was actually the ledge of a small cliff. It was about 35 feet to the snow below them. Out in the distance, though, black smoke arose from the white landscape surrounding them. It was a campfire. Salt pulled his looking glass from his pack and set it to his eye. "There's definitely someone camping there. And I can see the back of a Kodo...it could be Traya (Demonaro's Kodo). I doubt there are very many kodo riding fools around these parts. We'll have to go in and take a look." Jin'tal bristled "Wait. I be goin' ta take a clossa look. Non-a-you can be hidin' in da shadows. Da blanc cow be knowin' ya there in no time." Jin'tal took the scope from Salt and peered out into the tundra. "I go in nice an' quiet-like. He neva know I be round. Da rest a ya need ta lay low up `ere till I be gettin' back." Salt looked at the troll and nodded. It was the best thing to do. None of them had any idea what Demonaro might do if he was found.

The camp was about a mile away. Jin'tal decided to leave his raptor, Misha, behind and walk it out. He decided instead to take mirage at his side. The cat was even stealthier in this environment then him, and would smell trouble coming before it hit them. Tycho and Salt dug into a snow bank on top of the cliff to wait until the other pair returned. Salt decided to make ready some gear just in case they needed to use force against his youngest son. As Salt was pulling his bow from his pack, he thought back to the days when he had taught Demonaro and Ashenrock how to use it. It made him a bit sad to think that he may need to now use that very bow against one of them. Then he thought of his departed wife, Sindall. What would she have thought about all of this. Would she have been able to stop this madness before it began? Salt lifted his head to the heavens to ask her "Sind, your boy's in trouble. I pray that you've been looking out for him. He's not himself anymore...but some demented shell of what he wants to be. Do me a favor and watch out for us both here. See if you can talk some sense into the boy." Then Salt thought of his eldest son. "And give some peace to Rock, will ya? He needs it right now." He bowed his head and felt a bit foolish. He had never been much of a spiritual man before he met Sindall. Talking to the dead always seemed a foolish endeavor practiced by the most desperate of people. Was he all that desperate now?

"I told you that I would find you." Salt spun around to see Demonaro snarling, his face twisted and angry. "You should not have come to this place, father, now I must send you back!" Demonaro raised his hands to the sky and called forth an electrical blast that slammed into the snow benath Rocksalt. It was all the old tauren could do to get out of the way in time, and then still the electricity moved through the snow and stung him pretty good. He was a bit dazed. "Son! What are you doing?" Salt cried out. Demonaro inched toward Salt with a mean determination on his face and yelled back "I AM YOUR SON NO LONGER! YOU ARE BUT AN OLD FOOL!" Demonaro reached his hands high into the air again...

Jin'tal could find no evidence of Demonaro about the camp, though it was definitely his cam. His belongings were neatly stacked next to his tent, and Traya was tied to a post nearby. Mirage noticed hoof prints in the snow leading off in a direction towards the cliff and nudged Jin'tal to show him. Just then he heard saw a flash of lightning strike the top of the bluff where they had spotted the camp. A few seconds later he heard the voice of his oldest friend yell out across the frozen tundra. He couldn't make out the words...but he knew that they were not peaceful. He made a mad scramble to get back, with Mirage already well ahead of him.

As Demonaro was about to call another bolt from the sky, a massive pair of paws sent him hurtling head over heels. He landed hard in the snow. Before he could get his bearings, Tycho was on top of him. This massive bear that had always been so gentle with him through the years was now showing him just how fiercely loyal he was to his master. Tycho took a big swipe at Demonaro's head that the tauren was able to dodge just in time. Tycho's failure to connect set him off balance and Demonaro was able to simply push him to the side. Demonaro jumped to his feet and yelled "THE ROCKS MUST DO MY BIDDING!" he slammed his earth totem into the ground. Tycho rolled to his own feet and lined his foe up to charge him. He let out an mighty roar but was suddenly motionless, held in the grip of a giant, stone elemental that had emerged from below the snow. The giant wrestled the bear over it's head and then sent it flying over the cliff. Salt watched as his old friend soared over his head and off the side of the bluff, his mighty roar suddenly silenced as he hit the ground below.

"YOU ANIMAL!" Salt cried, still too weak from the electrocution to do much about it. The elemental turned to deal with the old tauren but was stopped by Demonaro. "This one is mine. You have served your purpose, begone!" The giant slowly crumbled back to into the snow around him. "Your little pets only delayed the inevitable, old man. I have come to this place seeking my destiny...but you have come to stop me...to stand in my way once again. I only regret that it's you, and not Ashenrock, that will meet your fate this day." Rocksalt lifted his head to meet his son's glare. "We've come to help you, boy. We've come bring you home." Salt fought the urge to shed a tear. His son looked so twisted, his once shiny, pale, white fur was now faded and gray from the evil coursing within him. His red eyes, once radiant and full of hope, now were full of fire and disdain. "What's happened to you?" He whispered sheepishly. Demonaro looked at his father and felt no pity "I am becoming all that the rest of you will never be." He walked up to the tauren that he once considered his father, took his knife from it's sheath, and firmly planted it into his chest.

Mirage saw his friend plummet to the ground below and quickly ran to him. For years the bear and the cat had been close friends. As he approached the bear he was sure that he was dead. He was wrong though. Tycho lifted his head and grimaced in pain. The snow was all powder down here...it was enough o break the fall. Tycho was hurt, but he'd live.

Jin'tal wasted no time on the bear...there was nothing he could do to save him. He continued up the embankment and got to the top just in time to watch Demonaro thrust a blade into his father's chest. The troll stood motionless...paralyzed by the sight. "No..." was all he could say. Demonaro stood up and cleaned his blade on his pant leg while turning to meet the stunned gaze of his oldest, and dearest friend. "Ah...the Betrayed has come as well. A pity that you have to die too, old friend. Obviously my brother can't do anything for himself...he has to send his agents to do his work. I will make you suffer for his selfishness." Jin'tal looked over at Salt...the tauren was still breathing, though it didn't look like he had much time left. "Why, Blanc, why? You be killin' ya own kin?" He looked again on Salt, the person that showed him how life should be lived, and became enraged. "NO! He be as much me own pop as he was ya's! Ya cannae be livin' after dis!"

Demonaro hadn't expected his old friend to be so quick to move. The rogue had learned much and Demonaro couldn't supress his angry onslaught. He ducked and ddged the wily troll but couldn't line him up long enought to get a spell off. He finally managed to land his foot square in Jin'tal's stomach...separating them both by a few feet. Jin'tal landed on his back and was a bit slow to recover. Demonaro summoned a powerful force of lightning and sent it at the troll but the electric death smashed into the snow where Jin'tal had just been. Demonaro hadn't been fst enough. Jin'tal had shadow-stepped directly behind him and he felt the blades enter into his sides and felt his ribs explode when the hilts hit them with heavy force. Demonaro fell to his knees, unable to scream as he lacked the air in his lungs to do so. Jin'tal whispered into his ear "Ya betrayed da real Demonaro long ago, Demonstrike, now I just be gettin my revenge for `em." Demonaro was able to pull breathe again as the troll removed the blades from his body. He landed, face in the snow, looking at the body of his fallen father. "What have I done?" he whispered as sanity settled into his brain as the pain chased away the demons in his head for the moment. He looked up at Jin'tal "Today it ends for me, old friend. Thank you for trying to save me from myself. You have done what a true brother must do." He summoned the last bit of energy that he could muster and whispered a prayer that sent a healing wave over his father's wounds. "Get him home, Jin'tal. I have mended his organs...but I lack the strength to save him from death outright." Jin'tal put his hand on his friends head, his eyes welling up. "May da gods take care `o ya. Ya found salvation at da end." Demonaro laid his head on the snow "Tell my brother that I'm sorry...and that I was always proud of him and what he has done. It was an honor to call him brother." His eyes were so heavy. He thought he'd close them for a bit and rest. He was so tired.

Jin'tal quickly laid the unconscious Rocksalt on his kodo and tethered it to his raptor. Tycho and Mirage had made their way up finally. Jin'tal looked at his blood-brother's body lying in the snow. He didn't want to leave him but there was no way he could get them all to safety in time to save Salt. "I will come back for ya soon, my friend." He then hastily moved the group on their way...hoping they could reach help in time.

So tired. He couldn't move. The snow was once so cold, but now he felt nothing below him. He thought he heard a voice...a voice he was not familiar with. Was he dreaming? The voice got a little louder now. He couldn't make out what it was saying. "Am I dead?" he thought. He tried to speak but found he couldn't. The voice was now right over him and he could feel a presence with him. The vocie whispered into his ear "Power and revenge will be yours...and your soul will be mine." Darkness enveloped him.

Ashenrock felt chilled. The morning air in the Hinterlands had always been brisk, but today seemed colder than normal. Rock sat on the beach watching the giant tortoises make there way about the landscape. Jin'tal sat next to him, admiring the morning sea. "It be nice `ere. Sometime I be forgettin' what this place be meanin' ta me." Ashenrock nodded solemnly. "Whenever I forget why I'm fighting, I like to come here and observe peace in it's natural state. We fight to preserve this...right here. If the Alliance isn't dealt with, I fear we'll lose this tranquility for good. Thrall knows only of his broken down city. I doubt he remembers what it's like in remote places like this anymore."

They heard the sounds of raptors marching up behind them. Ashenrock looked to see and noted that it was both the Elder Torntusk and the village priestess. The elder hailed him as he approached. "Rock. Ya pop be wakin' up, mon. He been askin' fo ya." The priestess was quick to add "He seems ta be healin' quick. `is color be returnin'." Ashenrock nodded and rose to his feet. "Finally some good news." He muttered as he reached for his raptor, Taka.

There was a commotion in the medicine hut as Ashenrock and Jin'tal approached it. Ashenrock smiled as he heard his father barking commands at people. "Dammit! I don't need this...this...what the hell is this? It smells awful! Get it off me!" A young troll simply did as the old tauren asked, obviously a bit fearful of what Salt might do. "Dad. It's an herbal mixture meant to put some sugar in your system." Salt looked up at his son and grimaced "Why not just give me a cup of sugar then?" Rock laughed "It's good to see you alive and awake." Salt semed to linger on Ashenrock's comment and looked whistfully out the window by his bedside. "Tell me. Where is Demonaro?"

Jin'tal sighed and put his hand on the old tauren's shoulder. "I sorry ta have ta tell ya dis, mon. Da blanc cow be no more. `E tried ta do me just like `e tried ta do you. I `ad no choice but ta put `im down." Salt saw the pain in Jin'tal's eyes as he spoke. He knew in his heart that it must have been the only choice for the Betrayed to have taken such a harsh measure. "Where is he now? When will we put him to rest?" Salt said, fighting back his sorrow. Ashenrock was quick to answer that "His body is missing. Jin'tal went back to recover his body but it was gone."
Salt looked up at Ashenrock, who was surprisingly upbeat. "Animals?" he asked. Jin'tal responed "Dere were no signs dat da wolves got im. No remains...no drag markins. Ya son `ere seems ta t'ink dat da blanc be alive." Jin'tal gave an annoyed look at Ashenrock, who simply stood motionless with his arms folded. Salt knew better than to question Rock's instincts when it came to these matters. A druid always seemed to know. "I hope your opinion isn't muddled by your feelings, son. Hope is a good thing...but only if placed in the right frame." Rock looked at his father and coldy, calmly said "He is alive...and he is no longer alone."

Ashenrock sat quietly on his bed, the worry on his face seemed permanently etched there. Too many bad things had happened to him and his family as of late…and now this. Felora was missing and presumed to be captured by the Keepers. Some in the Grin had worried that she might be dead, but Ashenrock was positive that she was alive…and he was going to find her. His fondness for the Tauren female was always evident. She was the first one in the guild that he had really connected with. She seemed to understand him, and she was his pillar to lean on when he couldn’t stand on his own two hooves. She was grounded. Anytime Rock would over react…she was there to bring him back down and put things in their proper perspective.

Someone started knocking on his door. Without even looking away from his window, the War Chief said “Enter.” The door slowly opened and Mortael appeared. “You wanted to see me, sir?”. Ashenrock didn’t move. He didn’t look at Mortael or even bother to stand up and return Mortael’s crisp salute. He simply floated the words “Find Felora, Mortael.” Like a good soldier, Mortael didn’t question the order. “Yes, sir, I will not fail.”

Suddenly Ashenrock rose upon hearing those words, seeming to snap out of whatever daydream he was in. He turned and faced Mortael, his brow furrowing. “I know” he said firmly, and saluted the rogue. Mortael returned the salute “Sir, should I do this alone?” Ashenrock looked back out the window, searching for something that he would never find. “No one should be alone, Mort.” Mortael wasn’t sure if that was directed at him or if it were a simple statement, but then Ashenrock added “Take anyone, and anything that you need. But Mortael…don’t try to free her yourselves, it’s far too dangerous. Just get her a message.” Ashenrock turned away from the window, gazing back at Mortael with an angry determination and seemingly renewed self-awareness. “You tell her that we’re coming for her.” Mortael conceded a wry smile and nodded to the War Chief informally “Yes, sir. “ he said. He then turned away and shut the door behind him.

Rock then grabbed his pack and headed for the door. Just as he was pulling it open, the ceremonial dagger that Gorfrunch had given him caught his eye. He walked over to it, picked it up, and sheathed it by his side. Perhaps it was time to ask Yagyu to show him how a Warrior wielded it.

The fire crackled and hissed as burning logs spit out blobs of sap with sharp popping noises. The Warlord peered intently at the map illuminated by the fire. The outlines of the Eastern Kingdoms were clear to the Warchief who stood looking over his shoulder.

Yagyu pointed at marks on the map in the section marked ‘Arathi’.

“Here Chief. Yew can see it better if’n ya look at it as a whole picture. The Keepers hit us here…” he pointed to the location of Hammerfall then continued. “Felora comes up missin’…then they hit us again at Stonard. We find evidence of supplies at Menethil and Mortael finds evidence of Felora in the Keep.” He paused as he scratched his topknot in thought.

“I can’t make heads ner tails of it, Boss. All I know is they needed war supplies for movement and taking Felora indicates they need information. But fer whut?”

It was clear to Yagyu that Ashenrock was similarly befuddled as he said nothing but simply peered at the map. He looked at the Warchiefs belt and saw the glinting ceremonial dagger affixed there. It was the first time he had seen the Warchief wearing a blade and although the dagger hung loosely from its leather strap, the gesture spoke volumes to the orc. He could see the seriousness on the tauren’s face and he knew that the time for action was drawing near. Ashenrock must have felt Yagyu’s eyes on the blade as he looked down at the dagger and smiled thinly.

“First things first Chief…ifn’ yer gunna wear that in battle, better make sure it won’t come off.” With that he tugged at the leather strap and adjusted the blades position, edge up so that the Warchief could draw and cut in one smooth motion. With a smile, he looked approvingly at the now secured blade and the determined druid who wore it.

Ashenrock felt mildly embarrassed. While he wanted Yag's teachings, he hated being a student again. He would stifle his pride, though. The Orc obviously approved of Ashenrock's endeavor and Rock wouldn't waste any time learning. He put his hand on the blade and felt it close to his side. It didn't feel odd...just a little heavy on the one side. He nodded at Yagyu "Thanks. Perhaps later you can show me the proper way to wield it?"

This matter with Felora had put undue stress on the clan and it was good to have some minor distractions to ease their minds. For Ashenrock, playing with the blade was a new, and different way to meditate. The blade called to him somehow...it eased his mind a bit. He didn't understand it and doubted that he ever would. He did understand that his Druid ways had been interfering with the way he wanted to run the clan.

"For now I'm going to go rest. Wake me if anything at all comes up." Yagyu nodded at him and went back to looking at the map for answers.

The blade was pendulous as it dangled over him. Back and forth it swayed, coming closer to his face with each swing. Ashenrock couldn't get out of it's way. It drew closer and closer, whistling through the air with each slash.

Ashenrock opened his eyes. The room returned to normal and his meditation was complete. His attempts to become closer to the blade had failed him each time. Perhaps it was time for a different approach.

Ashenrock arrived in Thunder Bluff to a less than warm welcome. While his father was still revered in this city, everyone knew what Ashenrock had become and whom he fought for. He was still welcome here...though welcome wasn't the word he'd use to describe it.

He approached an old acquaintance. Karn Stonehoof was wiping down an anvil as Ashenrock approached him. Karn saw him, stood up straight, and folded his arms across his chest. Karn frowned as Ashenrock drew closer and Rock was starting to think that this idea was a poor one. "Karn..." the old Tauren smith held up a hand that cut Rock off.

"The nerve you have, coming here after all this time..." Ashenrock felt like a kid again. He didn't like being an outcast in his own home. Suddenly, though, Rock caught Karn's eyebrows pop up and a smile creep across his face. Ashenrock sighed as Karn finished his sentence with a child-like gidiness "...without bringing me some flowers!" Karn laughed hard. Ashenrock held out his hand and the old Tauren grasped it firmly. "It's been too long, Rock. It's about time you ame back here to visit." Ashenrock looked around...eyebrows raised and then looking back at karn with a sarcastic look on his face. Karn shrugged off the gaze "Don't let these old cows get ta ya! A bunch of cowardly idealists. At least you've taken a stand." karn then leaned in close and whispered "Some of us here are damn proud. We never thought that we'd have to repay our debt to the Orcs by standing still and letting the Alliance cut us down...at least against the Centaur we fought."

Karn grasped Rock by the shoulder. "What brings you and your flower-power to the Bluff, Rock? I'm sure it's more than to see my old. leathery, face." Ashenrock smiled broadly. ""I'd like you to teach me the ways of shaping metal." Karn's face turned to that of surprised. "The gentle druid wants to make weapons?"

It was Ashenrock that leaned in close this time and whispered. "Sometimes a Druid needs to use more than paws and magic to cut down his enemies. I've been studying the wyas of the warrior." Karn smiled broadly. "The Grin have really gotten to you. We won't waste any time. What is it that you're most interested in?" Ashenrock looked stone cold into his teacer's face. "I want to be able to create a sword of magnifigance and power. Something that I can be proud to have mastered and crafted. A weapon that I can bond with and truly know as my own." Karn studied the determination in Asherock's face and could no longer make jokes. He knew that Ashenrock was indeed serious. "Come, it's time to learn everything there is to know about metal."