The simple tale, of a simple orc.

[bylin]

The wind played with the end of Bylin’s braid as she cast her fishing line once more into the small pond located in Thunder Bluff. She had noticed that this area seemed to be the popular place for people to gather and socialize; couples and groups of people sat and lounged about its edges, while others bartered their wears at the ever bustling auction house. For Bylin, it was a place to let her thoughts drift as she focused on nothing in particular. She had recently taken up fishing as an activity to pass the time between her battles in the warsong gulch. She smiled to herself, the battles were going very well as of late, and she was quickly advancing through the ranks, as fast as her training permitted any way.

She and her sister, Aylin, were often sung the heroes of battles; they had even accumulated a bit of an adoring public. Bylin chuckled softly under her breath. The adoring public perhaps was a bit overwhelming. The constant discussions of battles and strategies combined with a love struck boy of a man, or two, who wished only to lavish strange gifts upon them, had caused them to relocate their home to the Tauren city. It was more peaceful here, a stunning contrast to the battle field, and thus far they had been able to escape away to a solitude they hadn’t been awarded in quite some time.

Bylin tilted her head to the side, enjoying the warm sun and gentle breeze upon her green skin. She reeled in her line to replace the bait, another fish had made off with the bounty without being caught. She was about to cast her line again when a voice caught her ear.

“Another man pursues her love,” the gruff male voice complained, “I should just let him have her. It would be easier on both of us.”

Narrowing her eyes, Bylin turned on her heel. “What?” She almost spit the word out, “That has got to be the most retarded thing I have ever heard!” Bylin waved her fishing pole at the male orc, who sat blinking up at her.

Next to him a young tauren female chuckled softly, nodding her agreement. “She’s right you know.”

Bylin flushed, realizing not only had she been listening in on a private conversation, interrupted it, and insulted a complete stranger, but that he had the most dazzling eyes she had ever seen. She felt her face growing hot, and quickly turned back to the pond and cast out her fishing line. She heard the two continue their talk, but made a conscious effort not to hear what they were saying. Eventually they rose to their feet. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Hesitantly she turned to see it was the tauren female, who now towered over her with a very pleased smile upon her muzzle.

“His name is Nethezerim,” she half laughed as Bylin’s cheeks once more tinged with red. “And I am Beiame.” She extended her hand in greeting, tilting her head curiously to the side. Bylin stood looking up at her for a long moment.

“Bylin,” she lowered her eyes, realizing she had been starring, and grasped the large, fury hand.

“Well Bylin,” Beiame’s eyes danced with light and mischief, “welcome to Thunder Bluff, we don’t get too many of your kind around here.” She eyed the orc from head to toe and back again, “although more and more seem to be heading into these parts, what with the auction house being opened and all.”

“I didn’t come for the auction house,” Bylin replied, her voice tinged with insult. The tauren only smiled and nodded her head. Bylin didn’t like the way this strange girl was looking at her, as if she knew exactly why Bylin was here. At that moment Bylin heard the warsong battle cry, and tilting her ear to the noise, stepped back from her new acquaintance. “I must go.” She bowed slightly to the woman and hastily accepted her summons to battle. She heard a soft chuckle follow her, finally to be replaced with the scraping of armor and the drawing of blades.

Bylin grinned looking about her and nodding to her sister. A giant hand rested heavily on her shoulder, she smiled up at the tauren druid, Gau, her adopted brother. This was home. She would win this battle; she had no doubt in her mind. Hefting her swords into her calloused hands, she began her charge down the tunnel of the horde base, the sounds of battle and the pounding of war blood in her ears. She let the thoughts of dazzling green eyes flee from her mind as her instincts took over. This was simple to her, killing was effortless. It was everything else that still had her baffled.

She raced across the open field, Aylin close, within arms reach. They locked eyes for a moment and laughed before cloaking themselves easily into shadows as a lone elf came into view. She, nor her sister, were skilled in magic, but years on the streets had taught them a thing or two about going unseen. They circled the pink creature, as it clutched uselessly to a long bow in its hand. There was no need for signals, she knew Aylin, knew her battle style. They would attack as one; the poor hunter would never know they were there until its spirit ripped from its body.

Bylin adjusted her grip and emerged from her stealth, slicing low at the creature’s ankles as Aylin burst forth from her cover and swung high. The elf turned to parry the blow, deflecting Aylin’s attack, but leaving an easy opening for Bylin. Heaving her sword quickly upwards, Bylin gutted the wretched creature, she met its eyes, it was a young female. Bylin smiled as the corpse sank off her blade, but more were coming and had already spotted the two, no time for shadows, the dance was on.

Bylin whirled, her twin swords arcing protectively about her body as a dwarf warrior closed in upon her. She spotted another elf near by, clad in robes. Her training took over. She moved with a swiftness and grace, closing the distance between her and the magic user and moved her blades quickly and cleanly over its flesh, before dropping down to one knee to make and arcing blow at a gnome mage, catching it in the stomach. The battle ragged on around her, loud, but drowned out by the blood lust in her mind. She caught Aylin’s eye, and her sister nodded. There was a job to be done. She slipped back into stealth and made her way into the enemy base, confident Aylin was right behind her.

It was over quickly, it always was. Bylin sat by the ponds edge as the sun descended behind the distant cliffs. Healers had tended to the cuts and bruises she had endured, the most serious having been a fractured rib, most likely from a dwarven head to the ribcage. Tranquility settled over her, the air carried the sweet sent of early spring upon its winds. Winter was nearing its end, not that winter ever much touched these lands, but the holiday of love was quickly coming upon them. Bylin had never given much thought to the perfumes, candies, cards and gifts that littered the stores, and streets, around this time of year. She looked down at the red piece of paper on her lap, with a deep sigh she touches a quill to it and begins to write.

[bylin]

“Are you on duty today?” a gentle voice interrupted Bylin’s thoughts. She looked up to see that Beiame had made herself quite comfortable next to her by the ponds edge. Bylin shook her head no, and Beiame smiled. “You are quite the poet me dear.” The tauren laughed softly. Bylin starred at her with darkening eyes, her jaw clenched tight. “Neth has been sending me your poems. They are very sweet. Oh don’t look at me like that,” the tauren reached out and put her arm around Bylin’s shoulders, giving her a little shake.

Eventually a smile warms its way across Bylin’s face, as Beiame cheerfulness infects her. “Does he like them?” She looked up eagerly at the tauren, her fingers absently clutching the hem of her shirt.

“Oh I think he does,” Beiame winked, “though I don’t think he quite knows what to do with you. You are, a very forward young lady.” She chuckled heartily. “And you, my dear, have a taste for very powerful men.”

Bylin grinned, it was true. Even as a little girl she had been attracted to power, and anyone with it. She had never had much power, born into a world of poverty; she and Aylin had been left in the Orgrimmar auction house soon after they were old enough to walk, their only identification being the letters A and B pinned to their clothing.

The two sat talking for many hours. Bylin found the tauren woman to be very easy to get along with. She smiled often and had many interesting things to say, her presence was warm and Bylin felt safe telling her tales and stories about her life on the streets and her time in the Warsong gulch. Beiame in turn fascinated her with recounts of battles in the Molten core and their efforts down in the south, combating the Silithid. Evening began to settle around them and Beiame hugged her knees, tilting her head as she watched Bylin.

“What would you say,” Beiame beamed, “to coming to a story circle with me tonight?”

Bylin blinked, “a story circle?”

“It’s a thing I do with some of my friends; we gather once a week or so to share stories and wild tales. It is great fun, you should come.” Bylin hesitated a moment and Beiame grinned. “Neth will be there.”

Flushing deeply Bylin nodded her agreement to go as Beiame raised herself to her feet and dusted off her skirt. Together they traveled into the barrens and down along the shore near Sen’jin village in Durotar and out to one of the small islands there.

When they arrived story circle was already started, a half naked troll was recounting a terrible tale of a battle he’d had with a large snake. He screamed and hopped about excitedly, reenacting the scene in which he finally defeated the reptile. Bylin heard none of it, her eyes and attention focused solely on the orc sitting over to the left. She quietly took her seat amongst the strangers, if he had noticed her arrival he did not show it. The crowed clapped and cheered wildly as the troll bowed deeply and took his seat in the sand with the rest of them.

Another troll took his place, a scrawny old mage, with oddly pink hair, cheered once more for the previous speaker.

“Good storeh mon!” He clapped, “dat realeh happen jah?” Nodding he looks out over the crowed, his eyes settling on Bylin a moment, curiously following her gaze he grins, and nods to himself some more, his ears wiggling. “If dere are no more storehs, then I guess we done!” With that the gathered people began to rise and talk to each other, few noticed Bylin as she weaved her way over to Nethezerim.

“Hello,” she balanced on the balls of her feet, her hands clutched behind her back. The male orc looked at her, first not recognizing his love sick poet, and then blinking slowly backed away from her.

“I, uh, have to go,” he looked about nervously, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves, before calling upon his hearth stone to portale him back to his home, quickly away from her. Bylin frowned, more then a little hurt. Beiame caught her eyes and smiled softly; scowling she cast herself into the water, swimming for shore.




Bylin sat alone along the cliff of Hunter’s Rise. The moon hung low in the sky, barely peaking over the distant horizon; small starts sparkled across the night’s darkness, as clouds silently moved to blot them out. The fires of the near by huts roared a few feet behind her, casting her shadow out over the rocky ledge, she watched it dance with the flames.

“Bylin?” she started at the sound of her name as the fire nearest her was blotted out by another’s form. Bylin didn’t turn, she knew his voice, she’d memorized every sound of it, and she had no desire to face him right now. She heard him let out a long sigh, heard his feet shuffle uncomfortably in the grass as he searched for what he was trying to say.

“I love Stormrunner, I’m sorry.” And with that he left, Bylin felt the heat of the fire on her back once more as she stared unblinking out into the deepening darkness, a silent tear rolling down her cheek.

Hours passed and her legs became numb from sitting still so long. Her mind was a blank, and a slight chill had settled upon her, when she heard the sounds of hooves scrapping along the wooden deck near by. A bulking male tauren stood, silhouetted against one of the many fires. Bylin tilted her head looking up at him; he had not seemed to notice her seated there in the dancing shadows. Curious she crept forward; he was a young bull, his body well toned and muscled, and a warrior most likely by the large blade strapped across his back. Clenching his fists he bellowed into the night, a long mournful sound that sent the night creatures skittering across the grass. Bylin stumbled, taken aback by the sudden noise, her legs clumsy from the poor circulation. The tauren turned and looked at her as she retreated into the shadows.

“Please,” his voice was gruff and coarse, but gentle. “Come into the light.” Bylin obeyed, pulling herself up onto the wooden platform and into the fire light. “What are you doing out here at this hour?” He looked her over, his eyes seeming to take in her every feature, as if he were measuring her against something. He snorted then, “you have been crying.” He pointed a large furred finger towards her tear stained cheeks. Bylin clenched her jaw, and narrowed her eyes.

“You are one to point fingers about tears.” Bylin’s lower jaw quivered despite herself but the bull simply nodded and sat down, with his legs dangling over the edge. Hesitantly Bylin followed suit, suddenly not wanting to be so very alone any more.

“Why do you cry?” The bull asked, staring out over the fields below.

Bylin looked down at her fingers, “I cry because it hurts.”

“What hurts?” He tilted his head and looked at her, a gentleness in his eyes melting her resolve never to speak of this.

“My heart hurts.” Bylin found herself starring into the tauren’s eyes.

“Ah, of heart ache I know plenty. Who has hurt your heart?”

Bylin bit her lip, unsure of if she wanted to answer. “Nethezerim.” She finally sighed out the name. The bull laughed a loud, deep throaty laugh. Bylin furrowed her brow, her face growing hot.

“He is not worth your trouble.” He continued to laugh, a near mad laugh, lacking of any true humor. “But I am afraid; I am the cause of your pain.” Bylin tilted her head, not understanding. The bull smiled. “You see, his love Stormrunner, she had come to me first and I had turned her away.” He clenched his fist, seemingly ready to shake it in defiance at the night’s sky. “I was a fool, and I know that now. I curse the very day I said no to her, and wish only now that she would take me now. And if I had, then perhaps both of us may have been spared this pain. We might have been happy.”

Bylin could think of no reply to this sudden and strange confession. The night breeze trickled goose bumps across her skin and she absently leaned against the warmth of the tauren. He made no move to reject her, so there she stayed, unexpectedly aware of how much she just wanted someone to hold her right then.

“My name is Bylin,” she half whispered.

“Kotholis” he smiled down at her then, and they sat in silence for the remainder of the night.

[bylin]

Bylin dipped her fingers into the still water of the hot springs found in the caverns below Spirit Rise. The water was warm and inviting. She looked up at Kotholis, standing on a higher platform, and smiled softly as he hopped on one foot trying to remove his boot. She didn’t know much about this strange bull, mostly just that his heart ached as hers did and that he had been a comfort to her these past few days. It was a strange sort of friendship, built on a foundation of pain and need. She watched him remove his shirt, saw the way his muscles rippled under his soft fur, and half smiled, her bright blue eyes darkening in a hidden blush.

He understood her; he had served with a group of orcs during the last war and didn’t seem to hold her to the cultural norms of most tauren. Slowly Bylin sat down on the rocky edge and removed her own boots and the bulkier bits of her armor, piling them neatly along the waters edge. The undead that often populated this area had seemed to wander off of their own accord, but she wondered just how much influence Kotholis had within this city. She often saw him patrolling the boarders and had heard marvelous stories of his battles in lands she dared not travel to.

Wearing only her guild tabard, Bylin slipped into the water. She loved to swim, loved the feel of water as it glided over her. Kotholis soon leaped in the water after her, swimming around her is slow, lazy circles. He had not invited her here to swim, and she knew it. She swam near him, his large hands slipped down her sides and over her thighs as she moved beyond him; he followed her in mock chase. Catching her in his arms he pulled her tight against him, the smell of his fur was earthy and rich; it filled her nostrils as he kissed her deeply. His arms seemed to engulf her and his passion threatened to overwhelm her. She had to be sure he understood before she could let this go any further. Bylin pulled away and looked Kotholis in the eyes, his brow creased with worry as she frowned slightly.

“What is it?” His eyes were soft and the grip around her waist loosened.

“I want to be sure you know what this is…That you understand…” Kotholis nodded slowly and Bylin continued. “I’m not looking for a mate. I...”

“I know Bylin,” he smiled softly at her. “This is what it is. Nothing more.” He pulled her tight against him once more and nuzzled her neck. “It is just nice to be close to someone sometimes.”

Bylin nodded once, letting the warmth and comfort of his body relax her. She closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her once more, breathing him in deeply.

[bylin]

Bylin laughed cheerily sitting next to Beiame near the ponds edge. The tauren had been telling her a most mischievous tale of a girl she’d known as a child who had tried to get out of her chores by faking a spirit vision. Bylin held her sides trying to contain her laughter at the lengths this girl went through, only to be stumped by showing the true gifts of a druid.

“I’m not a druid! I’m a shaman!” Beiame cried in a convincing child-like voice. “Haven’t you been listening?” Then lowering her voice, “But dearest, you’ve trapped your spirit guide in a tangle of roots!” Beiame chuckled heartily, wiping at her eyes.

“Hello,” a timid voice interrupted their laughter. Turning, Bylin saw that a much older tauren, in a flowing yellow gown, stood shyly behind them.

“Ah, Ishotah!” Beiame grinned, “Join us will you? We are just sharing stories of our youth.” Taking a seat the other tauren smiled softly, and nodded to Bylin. “oh right!” Beiame laughed, “This is my friend Bylin. Bylin – Ishotah, Ishotah – Bylin.”

Bylin wondered at the new comer, it was obvious that she was much older then Beiame, and she had a gentle grace to her that spoke of a deep union with everything around her, yet a sparkling youth still lit up her amethyst eyes.

“Ah, hmm,” Ishotah smiled, “Very nice to meet you young Bylin, but as to tales of my youth, well, I shouldn’t want to be giving away just how old I am quite yet.” She hugged her knees and rested her chin upon them with a very child-like smirk.

Beiame laughed and pulled her friend into a sideways hug. As the two shared an inside joke, Bylin suddenly became distracted at the sight of her sister Aylin across the way. Aylin nodded to her once, and disappeared into the shadows. Bylin swallowed hard, becoming very somber, and rose quickly to her feet.

“I have to go,” she said dully, her voice oddly steady, as the two blinked up at her and she quickly made her way to where she had last seen her sister.

Slipping between the buildings into the darker shadows where no one wandered, Bylin stopped, sensing Aylin was near. A sudden chill griped at the bottom of Bylin’s spine and refused to let go. Everything seemed strangely quiet.

“He’s gone.” Came Aylin’s crisp voice from the shadows were she slowly appeared. “Gau is gone.”

“Gone…” Bylin’s eyes widened as she tried to not let the information sink in.

Many people in Bylin’s short life were gone. Her parents were gone, many of her street friends had gone, and every battle with the alliance seemed to promise that a comrade would soon be gone. Gone was the word Aylin and Bylin used to avoid saying someone was dead or never coming back. It helped to distance the pain, at least for awhile until they could deal with their grief separately and on their own terms.

“I will send you half of what he left us.” Aylin said over her shoulder as she turned to cloak herself back into the shadows. Bylin nodded crisply and waited for Aylin to leave before slipping into stealth.

She wanted to be alone, and she knew Aylin wanted to be alone as well. They never talked of their grief or sorrows. There was no need. She knew Aylin would cope, as they had always coped in the past. Tomorrow would be another day. Slowly Bylin made her way to Hunter’s Rise, careful not to attract any ones notice. She sat in the same place she had sat last time her heart had hurt and waited for the day to pass into night before letting the tears come in silence.

Night was in full bloom when a large hand rested on her shoulder, and a soft furred finger caressed her cheek. Bylin smiled softly, titling her head to nuzzle against the hand, before turning to face her visitor. She smiled brightly up at Kotholis who helped her to her feet. He met her eyes and smiled back. Gently he pulled her into his arms, and lifted her up. She rested against his chest as he carried her to a near by Inn.

[beiame]

((I am very, very much enjoying this *grins* keep it up, more! more!))

[bylin]

Bylin stretched and smiled, snuggling deeper into the soft bed. The sun played across the sheets and was warm as it filtered in through the window. She didn’t want to get up but she knew she should. Slowly opening her eyes, Bylin peeked around the room. Kotholis was gone, he was always gone by the time she awoke, but she didn’t mind. Grinning with an inner giddiness, Blyin slipped out of bed and pulled on a lacey robe from her pack before carefully stowing her leather gear away, which laid strewn about the room.

Blinking into the full brightness of the mid-day sun, Bylin made her way to the pond, seeking out a vender there that often carried the most enjoyable fruits. Purchasing an apple, she spotted Beiame and Ishotah sitting, as usual, along the ponds edge. A young spotted cheetah purred affectionately at Ishotah’s feet. As she neared them the two women smiled and waved to her, inviting her to come and sit with them.

“Good afternoon Bylin,” Beiame smirked, “Did you sleep?” The tauren winked at her with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Bylin simply grinned in return and bit into her apple. Beiame laughed, shaking her head. “Trouble I say, you and Koth is nothing but trouble.” Bylin knew Beiame was only half joking, but chose to ignore the warning.

The cheetah sniffed at Bylin, inching closer to her inquisitively. Bylin regarded the cat suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as its nose and tongue moved ever closer to her apple.

“Jorm, cut that out,” Ishotah chuckled, “it isn’t polite.”

Retreating, the cheetah seemed to whimper as it curled itself up again next to Ishotah. Idly, the druid began to strokes its soft fur and tickle its many dots. The cheetah in turn purred louder, rolling onto its back.

“Bylin,” Ishotah smiled, “I’d like you to meet Jormungand.” The cheetah shifted its weight to look at her curiously, and licked its nose. “He is a druid friend of mine, though he seems to prefer to play the kitten.”

Bylin regarded the cat as he regarded her, both tilting their heads to the side, finally Jormungand seemed to grow disinterested and turned his attention back to Ishotah. Beiame sat shaking her head, gently hugging her knees.

“You two,” she smiled looking at both Bylin and Ishotah in turn, “will be the end of my sanity, I swear.” With that she rose to her feet and dusted the grass off her skirt. “I have to go meet someone, but I shall return later.” Still shaking her head Beiame walked briskly off towards the tower that dominated the centre of the Bluffs.

Ishotah and Bylin sat in silence for a moment as Jormungand continue to purr loudly at her feet, neither really knowing what to say to the other. Suddenly Jormungand began to growl softly and Ishotah twitched her ears towards another tauren who stood a few feet away talking loudly to a rather tall and slender, female troll.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to join me one of these nights.” The male tauren smirked.

“Ah’d be honah’d to come wit chu.” The slender troll smiled.

“Great,” the tauren beamed. “We shall have lobster on the beach...”

Ishotah’s ears seem to sag slightly as she hugged her knees tighter and Jormungand nuzzled at her cheek. The male tauren soon departed and the troll casually took a seat further along the pond’s edge. Bylin regarded her curiously; there was something off about her movements. The troll seemed to look up at her across the water and tilted her head towards them. A small piece of cloth was tied tightly about her eyes, as she stared sightlessly out across the water.

Ishotah moved closer to Bylin, leaning against the orc slightly. “Do you think she can hear us?” She whispered. Bylin looked from the troll to Ishotah and back again.

“What is all this about?” Bylin asked, truly lost at the happenings around her.

“She is a friend of Rastagar,” the tauren sighed deeply, “my ex-finace.”

Ishotah sat chewing her lower lip, fiddling with the hem of her dress. Bylin continued to regard the troll, her curious glance steadily changing to one of suspicion.

“Is she his new lover?”

The tauren shrugged, “might be, I don’t know. He follows me, you know, shows up every where I go.”

“Could the troll be a spy?” again the tauren simply shrugged. Bylin furrowed her brow. She did not like to be spied upon.

Ishotah coughed into her sleeve, a dry, brittle sound. Moanig softly the druidess began looking through her packs, soon revealing a green vial. Silently she empties the contents into her mouth. Catching Bylin’s worried and curious eyes, she half smiles, half shrugs before returning the now empty vial to her bag.

“Just an old cure, for an old cough,” Ishotah claimed dismissively, closing the subject before it could even be breached.

[bylin]

Beiame, Ishotah and Nethezerim talked in low raspy whispers behind Bylin as she fumed by the ponds edge. She hated being left out of the loop, and what was worse was she could still hear most of what they were saying.

“You have to be careful,” Nethezerim shifted uncomfortably as he passed something wrapped in heavy black silk to Ishotah. “I haven’t discovered all of its properties, but I’ve modified it enough that it will at least help, for awhile.” Ishotah accepted the strange package into her hands and carefully picked between the dark cloth.

“Thank you,” Beiame whispered gently, “Adocton must be stopped…”

Bylin scowled. If they weren’t going to include her in their little secrets, the least they could do was not talk about them near her. Rising to her feet Bylin walked briskly and deliberately to the other side of the pond, crossing her arms in a sulk.

“Hullo,” Bylin looked from her scowling at the soft, timid voice. “How is chu?” It was the troll from the other day. Bylin made a face of pure annoyance and starred at the female beside her, glaring. The troll tilted her head, continuing to wait for an answer, blindly unaware of Bylin’s resentment. Bylin snorted and the troll nodded.
“I’s been havin’ a bad day too,” the troll finally turned her sightless eyes away from the orc and faced the still water, absently rubbing a small bruise on her forehead. “But I’s getting better yah?” Bylin did not reply. The troll bit her lip as if thinking about something she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“Mah names Jawaa Frostdrop,” The slender troll extended her three fingered hand towards Bylin, who crossed her arms, looking the hand over. Eventually the troll let her hand drop, and clasped it on her lap. “Chu Bylin,” The troll continued after a moment, “dat’s what da other calls jou.” Bylin still did not reply and the troll sighed heavily. Rolling her eyes Bylin lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Aye, I am Bylin.” Her voice was plain and dull, but the troll smiled slightly, turning to face her once more.

“Nice te meet chu, Bylin,” Jawaa extended her hand once more and this time Bylin grasped it in greeting.

“Why have you been having a bad day?” Bylin asked, not really caring, and still regarding the troll with some level of suspicion. Talking about the troll was a good way to keep the troll from asking about her or Ishotah.

“I’s suppose ta meet mah fathah,” the troll explained, “I gots a message from him ta othah day.” The troll reached into her pocket and produced a scrape of parchment and handed it to Bylin. Bylin looked the note over, not fully understanding. “I’s been lookin’ fer him a long time,” Jawaa continued. Bylin titled her head to the side, becoming more curious and less apprehensive.

“Why?” she heard herself asking.

The troll sighed deeply again, “Dat’s what I’s wants te know. Why.” Bylin nodded, thinking if she came face to face with her own father, she would probably want to know why as well. She never thought about it much; her parents that is, had never tried to find them, nor really cared what had happened to them.

“Are you going to go meet him?” Her voice took on a new gentleness and Jawaa paused a moment, furrowing her brow.

“Yeh,” the troll nodded once, and rose to her feet. “I’s tinks I’s will.” She smiled down at Bylin and slowly made her way towards the flight tower. It was at that moment, watching the troll’s curious, almost awkward, movements, that Bylin realized the troll must have only recently been blinded.

[bylin]

Sitting alone on the cliff edge facing the caves under Spirit rise Bylin let out a long deep sigh. Birds chirped merrily in the cloudless sky and a warm breeze tickled across her skin. Closing her eyes Bylin thought of her past, the hours of training, the sweat, the blood, the pain. The way her instructor had continuously knocked her down when she had first signed onto the horde army. How his eyes had matched her own in intensity as he shield slammed her to the ground again, demanding she be faster then he, and kicking her in the ribs when she turned to rise to her feet. The way her hands had bled after he had forced her to use a longer, heavier weapon then she had been use to. She had hated him, but more she had respected him. Thinking back on it now, she even understood him. He had trained her and Aylin together, showed them how to read each other, and attack as one. Brutally reminding them at every chance that if they couldn’t be stronger then their opponent, earth mother help them, they had to be faster.

The sound of gentle foot falls and the scraping of hoof on stone alerted Bylin to Beiame’s presence before the shaman had even spoken a word.

“There you are,” Beiame smiled, “I have been looking all over for you. What are you doing over here?”

“I wanted to be alone,” Bylin responded, her voice even and steady. “Aylin is gone.” She turned her head to look up at the tauren. Beiame paused, not fully understanding the implications of those words. Bylin turned back to look out across the canyon again.

“I need to ask you a favor,” Beiame continued, hesitantly, still unsure of what exactly was going on, but accepting that Bylin was not going to offer any further explanation. Bylin simply nodded. “I am going away for awhile. I was hoping you could keep an eye on Ishotah while I am gone.”

Bylin smiled up at the tall tauren, “of course I will look out for her. Though I know very little of healing and magics.” Beiame nodded.

“She shouldn’t need any magics,” She fidgeted with a lace on her dress. “I just don’t want her to be alone.” Bylin nodded her understanding and Beiame smiled. “I really must be going! So much to do so little time!” Bylin rose to her feet and hugged her friend.

“All will be as you left it when you get back.” Bylin smiled reassuringly. Beiame nodded. “Have a safe trip, where ever you are going.”

“I wish I could tell you Bylin,” Beiame smiled softly, “but there are many secrets the shamans keep.” Bylin sighed, but smiled in return. “I shall seek you out upon my return to find out all the gossips I’ve missed.” The tauren hugged her friend once more and turned to walk back towards the main bustle of the city, pausing once to wave over her shoulder.

Bylin sighed deeply and kicked a pebble off the cliffs edge before turning her footsteps towards the flight tower. She needed to get to Orgrimmar, she rarely visited the orc city any more, but this morning she had received news from her trainer. She had been deemed worthy of riding the wolf mount, and if she should like to have one, she need only go purchase one.