The pale furred Tauren breathed deeply, trying vainly to buckle her armor straps.

Tiponi had outgrown her armor. The leather was old and well-worn but well oiled and loved. It had been her mother’s before hers, made by her grandmother. It seemed a shame to discard it on a far distant continent from her homeland.

Try as she might, she could not hold onto the traditions of her people forever. Times were changing. Already the Shu’halo had settled from traveling nomads into an established city of their own. They shared influences of their own with the other races and could not help by be changed by them in turn. Times were changing yes, and she was changing ever faster.

The leather strap holding her shoulder pad in place snapped free and she roared in frustration. Looking up sheepishly she noticed a forsaken farmer gazing at her, mouth open and glowing orb eyes wide. In shock at her outburst…Or, maybe he just looked like that normally, hard to tell with these people. She smiled and waved enthusiastically and the fellow got back to his work.

New armor, yes. She couldn’t keep wearing this old relic and longer. She should find a leatherworker and have him fashion her a new harness and…no! She stopped her train of thought cold. In her mind’s vision she saw her memory of the orcs of Orgrimmar. They wore armor of metal and chainmail. Great metal plates with spikes. She would look truly fearsome in that armor… Her mind was made up, she must travel to the nearest city and have a new suit of armor commissioned, in the fashion of the orcs but made for her figure. She nearly skipped with glee as she made her way back to the inn.

“I have a message for Eucalypto, he can find me in Undercity.”

There was a strange stillness to the forest of Silverpine that Tiponi could not quite place. It was as if the forest itself held bated breath in dreaded anticipation. The woods were dark and gloomy and the trees had a sickened look to them, but that was not what had the young Tauren looking over her shoulder. It was just so, quiet. Her hooves seemed to clatter too loudly on the cobblestones of the road leading to the Undercity.

The air was cold but without a breeze and a thick mist clung heavily to the forest floor. She could barely see where she was headed, without the road she would have been lost for sure. She had never felt so alone in her life. She hadn’t appreciated the comfort of her friends and family when they were around her, but here on the other side of the world without a friendly soul in sight she longed for their presence.

Two shapes appeared in the mist ahead of her, one small and one tiny, coming towards her down the road. She scrambled into a nearby bush, attempting to make as little noise as was possible. The fog parted, revealing two people in rich purple robes.

One was a human male, judging by his grey beard and furless head, who walked with his hands clasped behind his back. The other was a miniature female, not much taller than Tiponi’s kneecap. The little woman had a pile of green curls atop her head and was gesturing wildly with her hands. Tiponi had encountered few humans before, none friendly, but she could only guess that the tiny figure before her was a gnome.

She tried to hold very still as they approached. She held her breath as they passed by her on the road, the gnome was speaking in an unfamiliar language as her compatriot nodded along. As soon as they disappeared into the fog behind her she rose to hurry along her way.

“Veld! Odes!!” the shouts arose behind her. Quickly she looked and saw the two figures running out of the mist. She cursed and darted into the trees. A bolt of ice flew past her horns as she scrambled into the undergrowth.

“Mages!,” she thought, cursing her luck. She had little experience with wielders of the Arcane. The fog thickened amongst the trees and before long she had become turned around. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears as she ran. She could see nothing ahead except the limbs of great trees rising out of the grey blanket of fog. The fog lit up bright orange as a fireball hurtled towards her.

Tiponi’s warrior instincts kicked in and she threw herself aside, but her reaction was too slow. She howled in agony and rage and the flames hit her breastplate below the shoulder. Her armor was blackened and burnt through and her chest throbbed with pain. The gnome emerged from the fog, a grin splitting her face as she conjured up another blast. Growling, and clutching her wound with one hand, Tiponi lashed out with her hoof, throwing her body weight into the tiny creature. She felt the crunch against her hooves as she crushed the gnome’s ribcage and she ran on assured that her adversary was no more.

She slowed to catch her breath against the bough of a large tree. She was beginning to feel light-headed and her hand came away from her chest thick with her blood. Conscious now that she was running out of time, Tiponi loped onwards, trying to get back to the road. Her vision was beginning to go blurry so she did not even see it in time to react to the bolt of frost magic unleashed against her. The human had returned.

The ice magic had numbed her fingers such that when she thrust her spear into the mage she felt it jar into her shoulder, but the weapon slipped free from her numbed fingers. As the human lay dying, Tiponi stumbled. She did not remember hitting the ground.

The first thing she noticed was the light. It was a warm ambient light, not glaringly bright and not too dim. Then she saw the hooves before her eyes. She picked herself up from the ground that wasn’t there and tried to fix her eyes upon her rescuer. It was a Shu’halo woman. She could not see her face, it was somehow obscured by the glowing light, but she knew she was beautiful and that she was safe here.

“Thank you for saving…”

“Hush child,” the woman interrupted placing a finger upon Tiponi’s lips, “You mustn’t give up yet child, there is too much left for you to do…”

“What?” Tiponi asked, confused and now trying to work out where she was, there was a forest?

“Open your eyes, that’s it…”

Tiponi opened bleary eyes as the sounds began to coalesce into sense again. She was on a pallet under a wooden roof. She began to sit up. Pain shot through her body and she collapsed again.

“Easy now,” a soft voice said, “you need rest to recover.” A Shu’halo woman with lightly tanned fur and a kind face sat beside her. She did not look familiar. “I am Mura, rest now, you’ll be safe here.”

“Where…there were wizards! In purple robes…” Tiponi felt as though all the strength had left her. Looking about she saw her weapons and armor had been recovered and placed by her side.

“You’re in the Sepulcher. Those were wizards of the Kirin Tor. They have established themselves nearby, you were fortunate to escape them. Worry not, you must rest now. The healing herbs need time to work. Sleep now, young one.”

The woman left Tiponi’s side and she quickly felt her eyelids drooping. Her worries were forgotten as sleep took her.

* * *

“Congratulations, Hyzanthlay;” Rik said, as they began to make their way along the road. “The mage Arugal has officially been killed by Horde agents.”

“My superiors will indeed be pleased.” Hyzanthlay’s voice was flat and dull.

“You are clearly not enthused,” the Druid asked, with some interest. Earthroot’s brown eyes flickered.

“Oh, I AM enthused,” Hyzanthlay waved her hand dismissively. “The Keep was interesting enough. But I feel better about killing Crusaders than mages.”

“Ah, of course! We can all be united in our hate of the Scarlet Crusade.” Rik chuckled and Earthroot tousled her mane in agreement. “So, I suppose they killed you, then?”

Hyzanthlay was not shocked by Rik’s blunt tone. In fact, his theory made sense.

“That’s what could have happened. It seems I’m unique among my brethren in that I have no memory of my death and the life before it.”

Rik was about to say something, but they were nearing the gates of the Sepulchre and one of the guards was gesturing towards them.

“Greetings,” he said, “we have been told to watch for you, Druid. Please speak to Mura. She has need of a healer.”

“I am busy today,” Rik raised an eyebrow, and in a flash of shining mist, turned into a cat and ran towards Mura Grimtotem’s small campsite on the far side of the Sepulchre. Hyzanthlay casually followed. The two guards both saluted her as she walked post.

Hyzanthlay could smell fresh blood, and it was not from Arugal’s head. Strellabelle was standing by the tomb, almost in the same place Hyzanthlay had met her before. She was tinkering with some vials and nodded towards Mura’s camp, and muttered, “Steak?” in Gutterspeak.

Hyzanthlay was confused. It was not until she looked inside Mura’s small wigwam did she understand the joke.

A young Tauren warrior was lying inside. She had been badly wounded, it seems by spellcasters. Mura said something about the road past Ambermill. Some of her fur had been scorched, and there was a bad wound by her breastplate. She was unconcious, but muttering in a troubled way in the tongue of her people.

Rik was speaking gently to her and casting a few spells. Earthroot pushed past Hyzanthlay and stared for a moment before falling upon one knee and lowing softly, as if in pain.

“She is young, but strong,” Mura said in Common. She spoke to comfort Earthroot but looked at Hyzanthlay.

“Tiponi will live and fight again. You trained her well in Mulgore, sister. She wounded a few and even killed two. A human with her spear, and a gnome that she crushed; we found his body close to where she fell.”

“Crushed? A gnome? Is that so?” Hyzanthlay looked past Rik’s shoulder and saw that Tiponi was breathing a little easier. She fished around in her bag and brought out a handful of red and yellow vials.

“For strength and health, see that she gets them,” Hyzanthlay dropped the vials in one of Earthroot’s surprised open hands. Rik had finished his casting and smiled at the gift, which did not seem to surprise him at all.

“I thank you, and so will Tiponi when she is well. She is on the mend,” and he looked to Earthroot when he said this, who rose to her feet and took a deep breath. “If you will, Hyzanthlay, I suspect you and Strellabelle will be headed to Undercity to be commended. It seems that Eucalypto is waiting for her there; if you happen to see him,” and Rik seemed to snicker at this a bit, “let him know, will you?”

Hyzanthlay nodded, not understanding what was so funny, then turned to meet a rather dour Strellabelle. Something here did not meet with her approval.

“The Dark Lady awaits,” she said curtly, as Hyzanthlay waved goodbye to Rik. “And you will no longer be handing out your potions to Tauren like wildflowers to cattle. You and your profession belong to the Clan of the Fallen now.”

“I’m not wearing your guild tabard yet,” Hyzanthlay snarled back.