Greetings!

Thank you for checking out my fanfiction! There are a couple things you should probably note before you start reading; first of all, this is the first story of any kind that I've ever written. I'm proud of how its turning out so far (at 18k words in) but I'm aware that I still have a lot to learn about writing. As such, don't expect a masterpiece, and if you see any (literacy) errors then feel free to point them out to me, along with your thoughts of the story.

Secondly; while I do play WoW myself, I'm not overly up to speed on my lore, but I do have a friend who is making sure most of what I say is accurate. This story is based towards the end of the Warlords expansion and I doubt it'll branch into Legion at any point.

And lastly, FanFiction keep removing my standard scene break markers whenever I upload and anywhere with more than two line breaks gets reduced back down to one. The point is that its difficult to break the text up when something new happens; I've done the best I can, using an ugly (III) marker which makes the whole thing look like a legal form. If anybody knows how to let solve any of those two things I'd be grateful. I hate not being able to space out my text how I want.

tl;dr is I'm a little bitch

Regardless, enjoy the story!

The unmistakable laughter of Orcs could be heard thundering into the cold night of Draenor, keeping the wild beasts of Gorgrond from sleep. The source of the laughter was the newly opened "Shattered Axe" tavern, set up by the Horde not too far from their Gorgrond Outpost to make life in enemy territory a bit more bearable.

Good to know these foreigners have their priorities straight, Lukk thought to himself, pulling his sleeveless fur vest tighter around his pale brown skin in an attempt to keep warm. The Orcs of Draenor had long since grown accustomed to its varied climate, but knelt hunched behind some thin bushes for hours on end in the dead of night, he could hardly be blamed for feeling the cold. Not in the least since Lukk himself was a good margin scrawnier than most Orcs; where most had muscle and strength Lukk had only his guile and subtlety to rely on. On some days he resented this about himself, but at times like this he cherished it.

"Captain, we've a few more on their way." The voice came a few metres to Lukk's right in a low whisper from where a slightly broader Orc knelt in a similar position behind some shrubbery, the faded mark of their organisation visible on his arm. He held a pair of binoculars to his eyes, watching the flat path that led from this new Horde's outpost to The Shattered Axe tavern. Lukk had never had much of an opinion on The Iron Horde, but when the foreigners came charging through the Dark Portal, a mix of Orcs and Goblins and Elves and all sorts of creatures Lukk had never even heard of and proclaimed themselves The Horde, he knew where he stood.

In the distance, walking along the path towards them Lukk could now make out the figures his subordinate had spotted, although they were still too far off for him to count.

"How many exactly?" He questioned, causing the stockier Orc to his right to raise the dented brass binoculars to his eyes again, and focus on the figures for a few moments before replying.

"Four, all labourers by the looks of it. It'd be easier to take them when they're leaving the tavern though." He raised a fair point, drunken Orcs were much easier to deal with than alert ones; brown skin or green, an Orc was still a formidable foe.

"True" Lukk replied as a gnarled smile formed on his face "But where's the fun in easy?" An amused grunt escaped from the other Orc as his reached to his side to clutch the worn steel axe that lay by his feet.

"Aye, Captain. I'll prepare the men, we'll be ready on your go." With this he moved off further into the underbrush to pass on the command. With these four taken in we should have a twenty five of the green skinned mongrels in our hands, even more than we were even paid for, Lukk thought to himself. His twisted smile grew even wider as he imagined the sum of money that had been promised to them in exchange for this pest control.

The four labours were drawing closer his current position now, and a quick glance at the surrounding area showed that there were no guards in the around. Most likely they'd all been tempted inside the tavern too – after all, there was no Orc in the land that could resist cold ale, warm food and warmer women to ease away the aches of the day.

Even the whores are on our side, Lukk mused.

Each one of them wore a red tabard, emblazoned with the sigil of the foreign Horde, they were chatting among themselves, unaware of Lukk's position. From where he was crouched Lukk could make out only snippets of the conversation, they appeared to be talking about their Commander. Lukk moved his hand onto the pommel of his dagger that hung off his belt, in a few moments the labourers would pass right by him.

Perfect.

Lukk gave a sharp whistle, causing the four Horde Labourers to turn towards his position in the brush – just as half a dozen of his own men leapt out of the jungle from behind them on the other side of the road, axes raised. Two of the labourers caught the flat of an axe to the back of the head and went out cold immediately, but the other two heard the movement behind them and spun to face it, dodging the oncoming swings. Lukk's men began to surround the two remaining Horde Labourers, ready to take them out too; seeing that they were outnumbered three to one, the two Labourers immediately roared a battle cry before charging at the closest of Lukk's men. The taller of the two managed to grab the shaft of an axe as it was being swung down on him, stopping it in its path and wrestling it off the brown Orc with a fearsome punch to the gut. The shorter labourer did not fare so well, landing one hit onto the closest assailant's face, but quickly falling to one knee after being caught off guard from behind with a swift cut to his leg, sharp elbow to the back of the head sent him to the ground beside his friends.

The last standing labourer who had managed to secure a weapon raised it above his head before swinging it down with a roar into the shoulder of the defenceless brown skinned Orc who he had taken it from, killing him instantly. He then dropped into a defensive stance to confront the five remaining ambushers in front of him; with a grunt, he prepared to charge forward, ready to kill his enemies or die trying for the sake of his unconscious friends. As he went to move a searing pain shot through his chest, causing him to grit his teeth to suppress a yell of pain.

Damn, was I shot? The labourer thought to himself, looking down in dread to examine the pain, not noticing the twisted smirks of his ambushers. His orange eyes widened with surprise as he saw two inches of steel protruding from the centre of the chest. Dropping the stolen axe from his hands with a dull clang, the Orc clutched the wound as a new wave of pain shot through him, forcing the yell to escape from his mouth. Remaining conscious by nothing but pure willpower he felt a firm hand being placed on his shoulder from behind before the knife was slid out and his body went limp. He hit the ground with a thud.

"After all" said Lukk, standing behind the dead Orc's body, cleaning the blood soaked knife against his jerkin. "We were only paid for two dozen of them."

The five of Lukk's men who were still standing laughed heartily at their Captain's words.

"Now get these bodies cleared away, shackle the live ones and put them with the rest." Lukk ordered, no point getting caught once the mission was already over. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as his men went about their orders, his mind once again on his promised payment.

The Iron Horde really does pay well. He mused.

~~~ Frostwall Garrison, Two Days Later ~~~

"Ya can't be serious Commander!" The troll exclaimed.

"What other choice does she have Ty'Jin?"

The Orc's response was one the Shadow Hunter couldn't argue, but he remained unconvinced on the matter nonetheless. He had been sent to Frostwall Garrison a few weeks ago on the Warchief's request to observe Draenor's Field Commander, following certain 'rumours' that had been circulating her of late - rumours that had been looking increasingly likely to be true since he arrived. Despite only being in Draenor a few days, Ty'Jin could already tell how much trust the troops put into their Commander – an impressive feat to be sure. To secure obedience during war time is an easy road to take, but loyalty during war took a much stronger kind of person, and the Horde always seemed to be at war with something. Whatever his impressions on the young Commander may be however, Ty'Jin, the Ears of the Warchief, could not shake the feeling the she was out of her depth here.

"Of course there's a choice, Zog." The smooth voice came suddenly in a pensive tone from the back of the room, snapping Ty'Jin from his thoughts, where the very same Commander stood bent over the ornate war table, her gaze fixed on the map even as she spoke - if she hadn't addressed Zog directly, the pair might have assumed she was merely thinking out loud. "A tough choice I'll grant you, but a choice nevertheless." She continued in a more alert tone, her brow still furrowed as her emerald eyes scanned the map laid out before her, searching for some overlooked detail that might offer a different route, even if she knew none existed. She wore a set of gleaming plate armour, gilded in intricate patterns of golds, oranges and reds, all outlined by a deep charcoal finish. The individual patterns of the plate almost seemed to dance like fire if stared at for too long, fitting of the flame like castings that rose upward from her pauldrons – truly the armour of a Master Paladin. Her voice may not have carried the power of the Warmaster's, or even the authority of the Shadow Hunter's, but the silence persevering through the room was proof enough of its command.

Now aware that all the eyes in the room were focused on her, the young Paladin allowed herself a sigh of fatigue before straightening her back to address to men and women around her. Her blonde hair tied back in a low, makeshift ponytail tumbled off her shoulder and onto her back as she stood; displaying the grace she put into her every action. In truth it had been a long while since she had had an opportunity to fix her hair, let alone be allowed the luxury of sleep - but even in her worn down state she was still more beautiful than most. As with most Blood Elves she had the ability to retain her composure in any situation; as she had notably said to one of her lieutenants over a bottle of Brightsong wine not a week ago 'This damnable conflict may well carry me to an early grave, but I refuse to be sent there looking like an Undead'. Words she was beginning to regret saying; this latest occurrence that was causing so much debate in her own garrison had added years onto her age, she was certain of it.

The message had come through earlier in the day from one of the few remaining forces of the Iron Horde; a band of them had recruited a string of local militia and had managed to capture a number of Horde workers from the Gorgrond Outpost under the cover of night. For their release, the band was demanding that all her forces retreat from the area; land that had taken months to secure. Just remembering it made her think twice about her decision, it was rare that she was this indecisive about anything, but people's lives were at stake here – good men, whose fate had been put into her hands… perhaps she was wrong? With a slight start the Commander suddenly became aware of her position again and pushed the thoughts aside to address the people gathered around her, all of which were watching, patiently awaiting her explanation.

"You are all aware of the situation" she began in a cultivated tone, moving slowly from behind the table as she spoke, passing each member of her army that had been invited to the meeting.

"Two dozen of our men are currently being held by a remaining faction of the Iron Horde; the group have lowered themselves to working with a local militia force that refer to themselves as 'The Unbroken'", she paused for a moment and allowed herself a small laugh "… we'll see about that." This drew out several grunts of laughter from some of the soldiers present. During her years with the army Commander Erenaar had learned that lightening a grim situation often made it easier to deal with, even if only slightly. "Now this militia may not have discipline," she continued, returning to the matter at hand "But they do have numbers. Until now we've left them mostly alone since they posed no immediate threat; that however, has just changed. I've already posted several scouts across Gorgrond to see if we can pinpoint their base of operations, no luck on that front I assume?" As she said this her head tilted towards one of her senior recruits, an undead named Viviane, who had been placed in charge intelligence handling. She had been recommended for the job by Warmaster Zog himself, and had proved worthy of his praise since– even if the Commander had at the time been sceptical about placing an Undead in charge of intelligence.

"Nothing to report, Commander. Still looking." Viviane replied. A response Commander Erenaar wholly expected to hear, this militia were proving to be a slippery lot.

"It would appear that we have two options then." The smooth, if not slightly exasperated voice of the Blood Elf continued. "And you already know my stance on them." At this point her refined figure stood in the centre of the room, with every pair of eyes observing her. "We lose over four months of progress into Gorgrond and hand over a key piece of territory to jumped up mercenaries… or we don't."

Once again silence reigned across the room as the dozen or so people arranged across the area looked at anywhere but the Commander. Her usually bewitching gaze turned to one of cold steel as she scanned the array of people before her, all of who were going through the same conflict as her – morals versus practicality. Luckily for them, Erenaar thought, they're not the ones deciding. Taking the opportunity, she began pacing once again, exploiting the silence to ensure control of the situation.

"It might seem like it's the higher ups in our little company that keep everything standing strong; that it's the Commanders and the Chiefs that do the real work; I know at times I certainly feel that way." Across the room heads began to once again raise and turn towards the Commander. "But in truth without the workers and peons pulling their shifts day in, day out at the bottom of our little chain nothing would be accomplished. This very building that shelters us from the cold wouldn't be here if not for the peons who chopped the wood, the blacksmiths who forged the nails and the workers who put it all together." It may have been a cliché speech to give, but the Commander was speaking with such a degree of apparent sincerity that all in the room took the words to heed. Especially since such open honesty was rare for her to express.

"Its those same workers that have been taken, and we have a responsibility to aid them. But how many more died in the fight to secure Gorgrond? How many more would we lose trying to re-secure it if we were to give them the land?" A look of agreement was already beginning to spread across the faces of everyone gathered; even the sceptical Shadow Hunter Ty'Jin looked mildly impressed by the Blood Elf's wordsmanship.

"I will not abandon the men who were the foundation of everything we have accomplished, but neither will I throw away meaning to the lives already lost." Her voice began picking up volume, creating grunts and murmurs of agreement from the small crowd.

Time for the big finish.

"Viviane, increase the number of scouts present in Gorgrond. Gazlowe, send builders to reinforce the outposts. Bron, I need a raven sent to Khadgar, if the Alliance has encountered the same troubles he should be willing to share information with us. I will not surrender Gorgrond to the barbarians who claim it but neither will I play by the Iron Horde's rules; what I will do, what we will do, is flush their petite 'warriors' out of our land and rescue our men on our own terms. Are you with me?"

"Aye, Commander!" The shout resonated through the room as the various parties moved off to fulfil their orders or pass the information down the chain of command, a new vigour moving them forward. The same could not be said for their Commander however, she understood the importance of keeping morale up, especially in such grey circumstances, but she herself barely had the energy to stay awake, let alone motivate a whole army.

I did not have the energy for that. She thought to herself keeping up the confident demeanour and straight posture despite the overwhelming temptation to sign off to the Warmaster for some much needed sleep. Not yet, there's still one more piece of work to get through... Oh, and here he comes. An amused smile found its way onto the Commander's lips as Thrall walked towards her with a hearty smile on his face.

"Impressive as ever Commander!" The Orc complimented with a nod. "In all my time I've never met anyone who can energise worn out troops like you can."

"Now if only somebody could do the same for me." She replied, the smile on her face widening as her shoulders and back relaxed, allowing her fatigue to show. Thrall was one of the few Orcs Erenaar truly counted as a friend - she by no means disliked the Orcs as a people, in fact their strength and resilience in combat was something she admired a great deal, though her Blood Elf heritage kept her from ever truly accepting other races as her equals. She liked to think she was a great deal more accepting than most however, and among all she had met in her years of service there had been exceptions to this rule. Thrall was one such example of this; the two had fought together in many great battles and over time Erenaar had come to appreciate the powerful Orc's strength every bit as much as his intelligence. From the Siege of the Dark Portal to the Siege of Orgrimmar – going way back he had even entrusted her to scout the mysterious Deepholm in his stead when they both were a lot younger.

And a lot stupider. The Commander reminisced, God those were the days though; no politics, no negotiating. Just killing anything that wasn't wearing a Horde tabard. And even if they were… well, so long as nobody was looking.

"Well, you know what they say Commander, no rest for the wicked!" Thrall's words brought Erenaar back from her thoughts, she had a bad habit of zoning out at times.

"Clearly they knew me well." She replied, turning her back to Thrall and motioning him to follow as she walked back towards the war table, which was looking more cluttered than ever before. "I need your advice Thrall," she continued "We've managed to gather some information on this so called 'Unbroken' militia's leader." As she said this she pulled a rolled piece of parchment from under a pile of scattered documents and unravelled it on the table for the green Orc to see.

The parchment was a wanted poster, centred on the portrait of a somewhat scrawny looking brown Orc; his black, greasy looking hair came down long on either side of his face and was tied back into a loose braid that fell over his left shoulder. The picture portrayed him with cruel, twisted smile across his face that only made his golden eyes seem more terrifying. Beneath the picture was written "Wanted for organised crime, weapons dealing, multiple counts of murder. Dead or Alive. Reward: 30,000 Gold".

"Quite the looker, I know" Erenaar joked, lowering herself onto a fur lined stool close to the table rather ungracefully for once and arching her back in a stretch. Thrall was one of the very few people Commander Erenaar felt comfortable lowering her poise around, if only slightly.

"Do we have a name?" Thrall asked, studying the picture before him as Zog and Ty'Jin re-joined the pair, having finished their business.

"Not as of yet" Erenaar sighed, "We asked around of course but the locals seemed decidedly… hushed, on the matter."

"If this is who they're being threatened by, I can hardly say I blame them" Zog added, standing next to Thrall to also observe the parchment.

"Oh I don't know, he kind of reminded me of you a bit, Zog." Erenaar commented, causing the seasoned Orc to look up in surprise at his commander, before seeing the light smile on her face.

"So, what exactly was it you needed my advice on Commander?" Thrall interjected, pulling the her attention back towards him.

"The scouts aren't going to find anything" She stated in a flat tone, the smile gone from her face as she leant in towards the table. "If this militia can kidnap two dozen Orcs in one night without us noticing they can sure as Hell keep us from finding them.".

"Then why did ya order even more men to go lookin' for them Commander?" The unmistakable voice of the Shadow Hunter inquired.

"Morale. Morale and appearances mainly." Erenaar replied, in an offhanded manner, her eyes unmoved from the table that she had once again started to examine.

"You're sure of this Commander?" Thrall asked with a raised eyebrow, ignoring her less than respectful response to the Shadow Hunter. Over his years of working with her, Thrall had learned that the Blood Elf's respect is indeed something that needs to be earned from her; apparently Ty'Jin had not yet had that privilege. It took me enough years. He thought to himself.

"Fairly sure." She replied in much the same manner, "Of course there is a chance but… well they're only Orcs after all". If both Zog and Thrall hadn't already long gotten used to her casual sense of humour they may have taken offence to it. "What I need your assistance with Thrall, is taking down this bastard before he captures any more of my men."

"Commander?" At this statement Thrall's confusion had only grown.

"I said that we weren't going to find the location of their hostages and I stand by that." Their Commander explained. "What we do have is several tips as to the location of this militia's base of operations. If we can kill their leader there, the organisation will lose strength and well, organisation; like a Murloc with its head cut off. We can probably negotiate a much better deal to get our men back, or even straight up demand them back if the militia start to scatter."

At this Thrall began to understand the Commander's reasoning, but was still confused as to her request. Surely she couldn't mean…

"You want me to infiltrate their base?"

A short laugh left the Commander's lips, one that left the Shadow Hunter quietly wondering about her for not the first time since he arrived. How can one woman go from speaking with such purpose one moment to making cheap jokes and laughing at military figures the next?

"Very kind of you to offer, Thrall" she said with a soft look towards the Orc "But you're not exactly who comes to mind when I think of 'discreet infiltration'." Thrall could hardly argue the point, nor did he want to; 'discreet infiltration' were not exactly words in his particular vocabulary, and he had a much bigger vocabulary than most Orcs.

"What I would like you to do Thrall, is attack this outpost with me." At this she lightly tapped a small grey fort figure that had been placed on the map west of Gronn Canyon, signifying an Iron Horde stronghold in the area, a small label attached to it read 'Fort Cain'. "It's a rather weak stronghold, not manned by many so the two of us should be more than enough to take it down."

"And how will a weak stronghold help ya recapture ya men Commander?" The Shadow Hunter probed, half-hoping to find flaw in the Blood Elf's plan. Erenaar kept her eyes lazily focused on the small fort unit as she spoke, still not affording the Shadow Hunter the luxury of eye contact.

"Even these Iron Horde barbarians have a basic sense of battle strategy, Ty'Jin, and when an area with not so many troops is attacked, common sense is to send more troops to said area." Ty'Jin was becoming ever more dissatisfied with the Commander's dismissive tone towards her superiors, irreverence was an trait he had little patience for, and the Commander seemed to posses a lot of it. Even for a Blood Elf, he thought.

"The only other Iron Horde outpost close to Fort Can is over half an hour away, Commander." Warmaster Zog interjected "Sending reinforcements through crag and canyon to reclaim the outpost would be impractical would it not?"

"It would be, which is why the Iron Horde would be sending the militia forces in 'dere place." Ty'Jin nodded, beginning to understanding the Commander's plan.

"Indeed," the young Blood Elf continued "The militia base has been rumoured to be close to Fort Cain, so the chances are the Iron Horde will send them in in place of their own troops, since they apparently have an agreement worked out."

Thrall studied the large circle that had been drawn in western Gorgrond with Fort Cain roughly at the centre; the presumed region that held the Unbroken's base.

"So when they arrive to recapture the fort, we beat them into retreat and have our scouts follow them back to their base," Thrall asserted "a good strategy Commander."

"Well," she replied "That would be heroic, but I imagine the event would play out along a more let them retake the outpost and wait until they leave of their own accord, sort of route. Depends on how merciful I feel on the day." An amused smile found itself on the Commander's face as she envisioned the battle in her head. Swinging and weaving through a crowd of enemies, the weight of her weapon in her hand and the bristling of magic in her fingers; no words or politics, no orders but her own instinct to follow. I hope at least that much goes to plan, she thought.

"My proposed plan is this; we attack Fort Cain and draw the Unbroken militia out of their hiding, we'll of course have all our scouts spread out through the region, an entire squadron of mercenary Orcs charging into battle should be easy enough to spot. Our scouts send word to the Garrison as to where they were hiding and we send a detachment of Orcs of our own to raid it while their forces are absent."

"And us?" Thrall asked, "Do we stay in Fort Cain and attempt to hold off the mercenaries or are we to abandon the area and retreat before they arrive?"

"As I said," Erenaar continued "It depends how merciful I feel on the day."

Thrall quickly analysed the plan in his head, he had always admired the Commander's sense of strategy; simple, effective, easy to remember he concluded, turning to address her fully.

"However the day goes Commander, I'd be glad to fight by your side. It's been too long since we've been out in the field together, I trust your skills with your Hammer haven't rusted since last we fought?" He jested with a smile towards Erenaar.

"Perhaps a little Thrall," She ventured, standing up from the war table to meet his gaze "But they're still not as bad as yours." The two shared a laugh at the quip, and Erenaar found it eased her tired muscles ever so slightly by the humour.

"We'll meet at first light tomorrow if it suits you then," she continued once the laugher had subsided "Our scouts will need to move into position, and I need some time to finish off a few things here." Sensing that the meeting was drawing to a close Zog began to clear the documents away and prepare messages for the scouts to move into position. As he did so, Ty'Jin moved around to the other side of the table where Thrall and Erenaar were finishing up their business.

"Of course Commander, I look forward to it." Thrall concluded, bowing his head slightly as he turned to leave the war room.

Well, Erenaar thought to herself, watching the Orc leave through the doorway and back into the bitter cold, There's that sorted. I'd better head back myself, if I don't see a bed and some warm water before the hour's out people may start confusing me for Lilian Voss. She smiled to herself as she began to walk towards the doorway, remembering how long it had been since she even heard that name. Perhaps I'm selling myself short, she considered, reflecting on just how ugly that poor girl had been, Lady Sylvanas at the very least.

She was stepping out the door when another thought crossed her mind, If I plan to get any sleep tonight I'd best be quick about getting to my quarters, else Ty'Jin might try to keep me back and scold me for my 'un-leader-like behaviour' again.

"Commander, a word." The voice came from behind her in that thick Darkspear accent.

Of Course.

Erenaar turned, trying to hide her annoyance behind a composed demeanour and giving the Troll eye contact for quite possibly the first time that day.

"Yes?"

"It be about your report, Commander. The Warchief wants it by three days from now, that means this whole militia incident gonna be in it, including how ya dealt with it. If this plan of yours doesn't work, the Warchief will have to be hearin' about it." Erenaar understood that the Troll was only following out his orders, and this was certainly not the first performance review she had been under during her military careers, yet there was one detail irking her.

"I understand that Ty'Jin," she replied in a tone that was soft, yet threatened to betray her growing impatience, "But you have still yet to inform me as to why a report is being conducted on me, does our new Warchief not approve of my conduct? Would he rather somebody else capture half a continent in his name?" She kept her speech neutral and calm, yet as she spoke displeasure started to find its way into her voice, causing her to stop herself short, lest she told the Troll what she was really thinking.

"Watch ya words, Commander." Ty'Jin warned, stepping out of the door frame to join her in the cold, "Da Warchief be more than pleased with your contributions to da war effort here in Draenor, you'd been at the forefront of our army for most of ya life and Vol'Jin recognises that." Erenaar couldn't tell whether the Troll was being genuine with his words, but she maintained a casual expression nonetheless, she would not have a Troll distract her with flattery. "But der have been concerns coming in from ya troops. Days without sleepin', spending weeks out on da field when der are soldiers perfectly capable, and keepin' pleased all of da dozens of factions in Draenor while ya at it. It must be testing, even for somebody like you, Commander. Da Warchief only wonders if ya would be best taking a break for ya own sake, the last time ya took time off from da army was when Hellscream was still in power."

Erenaar's expression didn't shift, she was still regarding the Troll with the same cool poise as before, and as she tilted her head a fraction the right, those cool emerald eyes began to make Ty'Jin feel a slight irrational discomfort, even if none was intended.

"So that's it?" She enquired, with a tone sounding genuinely curious. "Vol'Jin was just concerned for my health? I must say that's very sympathetic of him." Ty'Jin could feel the sarcastic undertone in her words, and hoped for her own sake that she did in fact know the significance of what he had told her.

"Commander, your health don't just affect you anymore." He continued "If you be working yourself too hard, the whole unit gonna suffer for it. If it ain't in your best interests, perhaps it be in ya garrison's best interests that you consider taking some time. Da Warchief trusts ya, Erenaar, but as da Commander of his armies, he be more concerned about ya performance than ya health. If he judges from dis report that da pressure is beginin' to affect ya performance, actions are gonna have to be taken. Maybe it be best if ya apply for a few weeks leave before he makes ya take them."

Erenaar lowered her head towards the ground and smiled for a moment, composing herself for a few seconds before meeting the Troll's gaze again, the pleasant smile still on her lips.

"Thank you for the advice Ty'Jin," she eventually said, once again keeping her voice calm and considered "Although the Warchief should realise that securing an entire continent full of battle trained Orcs is quite the pressing task, you'll forgive me if after almost eight months of it I'm beginning to feel 'da pressure', as you put it." Ty'Jin narrowed his eyes at the Commander, he was beginning to see that like most Blood Elves, Erenaar tended to keep a poised disposition up at all times, even when ulterior intention were present. She had dropped it slightly in the War Room when talking to Thrall, but around him alone she appeared inclined to keep her harsher emotions to herself.

"Regardless Ty'Jin," She continued "If the outcome of this 'Unbroken' incident will be included in the report as you said, I believe I'll let my actions speak for my performance on this occasion. Now, if there isn't anything else?"

Ty'Jin stood for a few seconds longer, regarding the Blood Elf as a source of interest, as if trying to work out exactly what the woman standing before him really felt on the matter.

"No Commander, that be all."

"Well then, I wish you a pleasant night Ty'Jin." She concluded, giving the troll an amiable smile before turning around and walking in the direction of her quarters. The Shadow Hunter stood there, watching her walk away with natural grace, guards and soldiers bowing their heads to her as she passed. Perhaps there be more to this woman than meets the eye, Vol'Jin was right in keeping an eye on her.

III

The door closed behind Erenaar, shutting out the cold of Frostwall and the noise of the garrison, finally giving her a moment's peace. She walked to the middle of the room and began unclipping the various buckles and belts that held her paladin's armour in place, when she had first started using plate armour the process had taken her almost twenty minutes each time, and even longer to put back on. But since then the procedure had become muscle memory, to the point where she could find and undo every fastening on her armour with her eyes closed. Piece by piece she slid the various sections of the flame coated plate off her slender body and onto the stand that stood in the corner of her room, feeling the weight being lifted off her with each piece. Erenaar loved that armour, she had it commissioned from her own designs for her Master Paladin ceremony; every flame, colour, gradient and angle had been meticulously designed by her over the course of several weeks, each section drawn to scale over several pieces of canvas. It was that day she earned her own unique title; it was a customary practise for all high ranking paladins, but Erenaar had always been particularly proud for hers. Erenaar, of the Ashen Verdict.

She let out a long overdue sigh as she lifted the breastplate over her head, her armour finally off and her body feeling much lighter. Perhaps Ty'Jin has a point she pondered to herself, stretching her supple arms above her head with a slight moan, Some time away from this might do me good, but where would I go? I suppose I could return to Eversong, it's been too long since I dined on some Sin'Dorei cuisine. Ah, but my family would most likely expect me to visit them at that rate. She let her arms fall to her sides, standing there in the simple tunic and pair of cloth pants that she typically wore under her plate, both a faded crimson colour that even in their worn condition made her silver hair seem to shine like silk. I think I'd rather stay with Ty'Jin than that.

She moved through a small door frame that led to an adjoining room, where a hot bath was already waiting for her. She tugged on a lace and let her remaining clothes fall to the ground as she walked towards it, the steam already easing her muscles.

Perhaps this will do for now.

So, chapter one. After reading it back in hindsight I know that there are definitely a few revisions I'd like to make to a few parts, mainly in character portrayal. When I find the time I'll definitely come back and make them, but I'd love to get some reviews in first before I go changing things.

For those of you wondering, this is the character that Erenaar's based off: wow/en/character/tarren-mill/Erenaar/simple

But why would you bother looking at that? Chapter two is up, and I had an absolute blast writing it, so go have fun reading it!

Oh yeah and another warning; I write slow as shit.

DISCLAIMER:

World of Warcraft, its universe and its content are the property of Blizzard Entertainment and I claim none of them as my creations, with the exception of the Original Characters and specific plot of this story; which has been created as a public, non-profitable fan work.