As luck would have it...[A Traitor Reborn - POSTED!]

[Kastarakovski]

Kas sighed as the shadows of him and his Swift Blue Raptor shifted through the endless grasses of the Hinterlands, following the last known trail of the great beast, the Old Cliff Jumper.

Laz had seen it fit to provide welcome escort for him as they had neared the boundary of Aerie Peak. Laz was both an Ambassador and a Diplomat and though Kas had worried greatly that he would be set upon by the dwarves, it seemed safe passage was due. He silently awed her prowess at convincing her dwarven kin he meant little harm - that he was a fellow bounty hunter after the great grey-brown beast that had taken so many of their own - vowing one day to provide the same manner of care as she had done to him. She had left him to the tree-littered greenery, having been bound to return to the Inn at Booty Bay and Iena, the barmaid that had taken care of them both. She had however wished him luck, and to follow his gut instincts when he drew near to the worg dens.

If the Old Cliff Jumper was another female, she would not stray far from the pups. And if it was male, nearing the dens would draw him out of hiding quicker than an arrow aimed at his flank. He urged Sonique to slow her step, gently approaching the dens from their fartherest side. He could see many white worg milling around, many young males and powerful denmothers, but nothing that resembled the leading worg in question.

At first, and beyond his honest judgement, he quickly surmised the extent of the young males. He could lure some them away, dispatching them with accuracy, drawing the females away from the den in retaliation, and maybe draw the packfather out from his hiding place in the process? But, he also reasoned, doing that could very well bring the entire pack down on him, and Sonique did not bear that much speed just yet. She may have had the training, but underestimating this massive pack of worg could very well lead to their premature demise. He noticed some of the females sniffing the air and realised his scent was on the wind. He urged Sonique away from the pack, settling up camp on a hill overlooking the massive sea of white-furred beasts. With the sun beginning its slow decline to the west, the Old Cliff Jumper was nowhere to be seen.

Laz had told him the beast was a conniving one - crafty and cunning and ultimately wise far beyond the scope of most of those bounty hunters. Some had never returned from seeking his head. Others had come to the decision that the beast was worth far more bound to the will of Freya. And Griefstrike, the ageing alpha worg, had firmly insisted that every single time, the then-Cliff Jumper chose a successor before being caught or killed. His legacy was that the pack would always have a leader, and the runts would always grow to be that leader. Kas had asked the question - "Why only the runts?" - and had been rewarded with the knowledge that a runtling, from day one, must fight like King Bangalash, the great White Beast of Stranglethorn, to survive the rigors of the pack. Every runt was born just that, a runt, and from birth had to fight for meals, for love, for respect and the majesty of being chosen as the packleader's successor.

Most runts treated the journey from a pup to an adult as an honor Grief had said of his own puphood fondly, but as Kas was soon to find out, his runtling would be quite the different story...


"Cliff! Stop!" the massive denmother, Rahle, snarled.

The grey-brown worg halted with a sigh, eyes focused on the horizon of grass than on the larger white worg. "What is it, Rahle?"

"That's Denmother to you."

"Yes. Certainly. Denmother!" the worg corrected himself, rolling his eyes. "What is it, Denmother?"

"Your successor," Rahle growled icily, a tiny grey-brown pup standing nervously between her great white paws. "You need to train him."

"Can't you do that?"

"I'm the Denmother, not the Leader."

"You certainly seem to be both," he muttered.

"And if I bore your pelt, I certainly would be both," she snapped. "But goddesses forbid that Freya gave your predecessor a merciful death!"

The darker-pelted worg had heard this a thousand times before - Rainie, his predecessor, had been the gentlest of the female Cliff Jumpers. Those that had taken her life however, had been brutal and sadistic, gutting her prone, lifeless body horrificially, stringing her pelt up at one of the trees just outside the path leading to the dens. It had been Rahle, out with him as a pup, that had stumbled upon her gutted body and the still-bloodsoaked pelt nailed to the tree. Rahle had done her best to shield him from the stench of blood, but in his curiosity had started lapping at the red spill. It had taken all of Rahle's strength not to retch at the sight, gripping his protesting neck and leading him well away from the gruesome discovery. The neighbouring stalkers would finish her carcass off, she had reasoned.

Rahle had raised him for the most part, much of his training left unfinished due to Rainie's unfortunate passing. But in raising him, he had gained a sarcastic, prince-like attitude, demanding respect for his position when clearly he did nothing worthwhile for the pack. The other females disrespected him, the younger males only tolerated him because of his pelt colour (and out of begrudging respect for the Denmother who would rend their heads from their shoulders if they so much as didn't do that), but even she was losing patience fast at him. The pup whined softly, paw at Rahle's massive one. The packleader regarded the runtling with disdain.

"I'm going hunting," he announced.

"More like shirking your duties...yet again, I am not in the least bit surprised," Rahle grunted.

"You have more experience with pups than I," he rounded on the old female, eyes ablaze with fury and lips pulled back in a snarl. "More experience than I will ever have! My training is unfinished, bitch! You know this! How can I teach him that which I do not even know myself?!"

Rahle returned his open snarl with one of her own, but did not back down to his attack as he had expected. She never did that, and he knew it. Her experience as Denmother, largest of her lineage, rivalled only that of the Horde's Denmother, Rema, far away in the Outlands. She had been the former pet of a hunter, released when use for her was no longer found. Rahle was still bitter, but had thrown herself in as one of the guardians to the newborn pups. And though she had done her very best with him, they both knew he wasn't ready to bear the title of Cliff Jumper. The runtling between her paws however was clearly ready. And for him, in those green eyes of his, jealousy raged like a wildfire.

"Do not wait up for me," he muttered viciously.

Rahle watched him slink off into the long grasses, and shifted her attention to the runtling below her.

"Well, lad...let's hope I can make a packleader out of you...amongst other things..."

[Kastarakovski]

Rahle could be such an overbearing bitch.

The Old Cliff Jumper ambled through the long grass, not paying a lick of attention to where it was he was heading. There was a scent on the wind, unfamiliar and to any smart worg, foreboding - but for him, he raised only a small degree of interest at it. No doubt it was another bounty hunter from the Peak, and with his speed, he'd be able to outrun them. Rainie at least had taught him how to evade trackers in the long grasses, masking his scent amongst the heady lemon perfume of the wild sungrass that grew abundant in the Hinterlands. He could hear the crickets chirping, voles meandering in the fallen seeds, one or two would make an apt snack if he was even interested in sating his hunger. With his training unfinished, and Rainie gone, even the title of Old Cliff Jumper held little interest for him. That damnable runt born to that damnable young female, Kirlien, festered in his mind, drawing his attention away from the approach of an oncoming mount.

Kas had been unable to sleep, rousing Sonique from her slumber to have yet another go at pacing the territory, looking for the great beast that haunted his thoughts. As her taloned feet whispered through the grasses, Kas became aware of a large shape looming up ahead of him, ambling along on its own path, oblivious to their approach. Something told the young troll he'd found the beast he was looking for and he veered away from the shape, urging Sonique towards the cluster of trees ahead. As they turned to face the looming shape, it looked up at the Troll and Raptor mount with a degree of surprise and shock. Kas could see eyes of deep green on the creature.

"Found you at last, mon..." he spoke, voice low.

The first thing the great worg wanted to do was bolt back into the grasses, attempt to lose this bounty hunter with all speed. But, being his stubborn, princely self, he dug in his heels, maw open in a vicious snarl. Kas felt the sound travel down the length of his spine, chilling him to his bones. The great beast was furious at having been found so easily.

"Dat be ya own fault, mon," Kas chuckled, not knowing where his bravado was stemming from as he dismounted from Sonique's back. "I be looking all of a day ta find ya, and now dat I have, you be mine."

The worg tore at the ground in front of him with a massive black-clawed paw. Kas knelt, setting a trap at his feet as the great worg growled again, trying to intimidate him. It was then, from the soft shimmer of icy-blue, that Kas got his first good look at The Old Cliff Jumper. Griefstrike had been correct about runts being the only ones chosen to succeed the former - this worg, as big as he had seemed in the darkness, had the body structure of what appeared to be only a very young male with oversized paws. It humored the troll only slightly to see a runtling fresh out of coming from under the shadow of the great beast before him...and in a way, a reminder of his own life before he had chosen the Wild Hunt over the Elemental Path.

"Come ta me, mon," he whispered, hand stretched towards the worg. "I not be knowing much, but we be teachin' each other if you be letting me."

The worg launched himself at Kas, cold fury etched on every part of his body. And as quickly as the rage held him, another feeling closed over him, pinning him into place. An icy blast of reality he would later refer to it as being, as he heard the soothing voice of an avatar speak to his soul in a dulcet tone, luring him from the very bastion of paradise to the touch of a hand on his great muzzle as the chant faded into the darkness.

"Who...who are you?" the worg spoke, curiousity and concern etched in his green eyes.

"I be Kastarakov," the young troll replied, eyes shining with relief that the tame, and his silly bravado, had not gotten him killed. "And you...I think...shall be named 'Ophios', mon."

"Ophios?"

"It be a special name," Kas assured his newly-tamed worg. "A special name that befits the former Cliff Jumper."

At those words, both Ophios and Kas heard a bone-chilling howl erupt from somewhere beyond the long grasses, echoing across the grassy hills and rugged mountains. Ophios tucked his tail between his legs, ears pinning back as what remained of his former lifetime as the Old Cliff Jumper translated the howl's meaning: "And may you never return to these plains, Runtling!" Kas laid a hand on the trembling worg's head, noting the warm spill of silver-white from its closed eyes.

"Come, mon," he whispered. "I don't think we be welcome here no more."

Ophios cast a final look back at where he had come, at where he had burned bridges where he should not have, and to his final memory of the great Denmother's snarling form, before following Kastarakov and Sonique out of the Hinterland Plains for what would be his last time.


{TBC}

[Kastarakovski]

The long trek back to Booty Bay appeared to be doing Ophios some good, but there was still that haunted look in the young worg's eyes. Kastarakov had eased the information out of him that the former Cliff Jumper had been brutally killed instead of tamed, and that he, and the Denmother whose howl had signified the end of his term as leader of the pack, had found her skinned, gutted body just beyond the reaches of the dens. The memory haunted the worg, but worse still, he was not as experienced as Griefstrike was. Kas was hoping that Laz was still in the Inn, still with her mighty alpha to learn Ophios whatever remained of his training as an adult. It was a long shot he reasoned, but if Rainie had only reached his hunting lessons before her death, Grief would probably be able to imprint what he knew of the Wild Hunt onto the impressionable youngster he now bore as a companion.

Over a campfire made deep in the Duskwood reaches, far away from the alliance settlement, Ophios had asked the meaning of his name. Wepwajet, an ancient human legend possibly stemming from the Titans' time, had once taken the form of either a black jackal, or, as humans had added to the tale, a grey wolf. In his wolven form he had been named Ophios, and along with several other Gods and Goddesses had safeguarded the long passageway into purgatory, the judgement realm. The worg had replied, slowly before sleep had claimed him, that he felt his name was an apt one. Kas has alerted him as their journey had continued to the presence of two other pets he bore - the Spiderling Broodmother, Banshee...and a beautiful Pridequeen, Qendresa. Ophios had said he had only ever encountered worg, so new species would probably take him a while to...adjust. Being the only male, Ophios got it into his head, somewhere along the journey back to Booty Bay, that he should be the dominant one of the trio.

Upon arrival, Iena was waiting for him outside the inn. Kas learned Laz had been called away to Northrend, under the orders of the Wyrmrest Temple. She had tried to delay her departure, but Krasus, consort to Lady Alexstrasza, had been adamant that she return to the dragons' homeland immediately. She had left instructions for Kas, when he was sure he was ready for it, to go to an...old acquaintance...of hers named Mor'Vek, deep in the jungle territory of the Un'Goro Crater. Sonique, as she had said, was a trusty land mount for him in this part of the world, but the snows of Northrend would not agree with her. What Kas needed, her letter had said, was a raptor mount fit to handle extreme amounts of hot and cold temperatures - a tempered beast he would help raise. Mor'Vek was a stubborn old Troll, his wife a former Ambassador that she had dealt with on more than one occasion. Like him, she was stubborn as a mule and she respected her very much. Northrend, Laz had warned, was unlike any simple trip back to Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms. Its vastness had taken the wind out of her sails when she had first set foot there.

Kas had taken her advice at face value, spending time in Booty Bay and Gadgetzan until even the goblins had suggested he and his pets were ready for the long trek into the jungle crater. Safely tucking Laz's letter away, Kas led Sonique out across the endless reach of sand and bones, all three of his pets ready to make the journey, safely dismissed one by one. He had remembered to pack a lot of water, and dried food. Fresh food, such as fruit, would bake in his pack with the overbearing heat of the sun. Shade in this unrelenting desert was difficult to find, and in the midday, almost impossible. Kas had a good idea of where he was going, having been that far north to rescue a particularly annoying turtle. Sonique travelled at a safe speed, one to not exhaust herself, and two, to take water from Kas whilst on the go. But like most raptors built for the dry heat of Durotar, the endless sand was eating away at her strength little by little.

Kas had never understood the significance of the two floating onyx pillars that marked the steep incline leading down into the Crater. Beetles had been carved at the bases, and strange runes gave him the impression that the pair were...alive...in an unearthly sense. Lazona had told him about the Temple of Ahn'Qirag in Silithus, where she had taken part in a huge battle to drive back the silithid creatures that had emerged under the command of the Old God, C'Thunn. She had made only passing remark that once upon a time, C'Thunn had marked several places where he intended to raise his armies. The lush greenery of the crater would have provided enough food for the silithid creatures to raze that part of Kalimdor to the ground. Kas shivered at the memory. It had been lucky that the Dragonflights and the armies of both the Horde and Alliance had pushed C'Thunn's forces back behind the gates of the Temple, sealing them away.

He dismounted from Sonique, leading her slowly down the incline, careful of its steepness. As the hot sun disappeared behind the topmost green canopy, Kas was taken aback by the hugeness of the area. It was unlike the jungles of Stranglethorn, an ancient place, untouched by the vast sandy desert, wild and untamed. The sound of trickling water grew louder as they made their way through the rock pillared opening. Sonique pulled away from Kas, reaching the water's edge to drink her fill. Kas chuckled, leaning against the pillar and removing his helmet.

"Well, mon, I can't blame ya. I'd do that too."

Sonique let out a chirrup, and continued drinking. Kas walked to her side, petting her scaly neck. "Better, mon?"

There was a chuckle off to their righthand side. Turning, Kas saw an older troll aloft on an unarmored raptor, a smaller raptorling by its side. The stern features gazed upon Kas and Sonique for a moment before breaking out into a grin.

"Kastarakov, I presume? Welcome to da Un'Goro Crater, mon."

"Mor'Vek?"

"Da same," he continued. "She was sayin' something or rather about ya comin' this way soon."

"Lazona be sayin' Sonique won't be a good choice for da snows of Northrend."

"Nah, no raptorling appreciates da cold snows, especially if dey not trained ta handle it. Venomhides, like dis one 'ere, have hides that be slathered in oozing poison, acts like dis natural block for all type of extreme weathers."

"And you be teaching me ta ride on then, mon?"

"Haha! No no, you be raising a mount y'self! But first, you be doing some...things for me, mon. Only if I deem you ready, then you be learning da ropes of one, mon."

Kas glanced at Sonique, still lapping her fill from the clear stream. She had been a dutifully loyal friend and companion, his only companion, when he had upped and left home for the last time. For many months she had eased his journey, until now. Mor'Vek must have seen the look in his eyes.

"...I can be training her too, if ya want, mon? But she may not like da training she'll have ta endure."

"No. No, mon. I can't ask that of her after she been through so much."

"Mm, well, mon. Dat's up ta you. Now then," Mor'Vek eased his mount northwards. "You both ta be coming wit' us. We have a small camp near the breadth of da swamp. You can stay wit' us for t'night."

"Tanks Mor'Vek."

"Heh, we'll see how much tanks ya give me when dem big wanderlust ones wake ya up in da middle of da night..."

"Wanderlust ones?"

"Ah, you be seeing soon, mon. You be seeing soon..."


{TBC}

[Kastarakovski]

Another off-topic moment...
This involves Kas's attempt at taming Krush. The Gods of WoW just don't like me. At all. I lost Krush twice on Lazona. I found the big green scaly one, alone, unhindered, pathing away as if he was just meant for a tame. You know that opportune moment every hunter gets where everything is just perfect and then something goes horrifically wrong midway through?

/sigh
Third time horrifically unlucky.
Yes, Krush was killed on me again...because a particular Nelf Druid from my ally hunter's guild saw an open opportunity to nail Krush's hide to the wall when I DC'd mid-freakin-tame (Blizzard, fix thy lag issues. They're not particularly funny anymore...) I log back in...and Krush is dead in front of me. I flip the camera around, see the joker laughing at me. I had everything perfectly lined up. Everything. Kas's HP, gear, enchants, haste, everything was perfect. Except for that <multiple expletives> jackass. From my own ally hunter's GUILD. I just about flippin' lose it at him in guild as he's laughing it up saying "I stole Krush from some dumbass Hordie trying to tame it LOL What a noob!" and all this other asshattery he's a bit famous for. And then I said in guild "That 'dumbass Hordie' happens to be MY alt, jackass. I hope your dumb achievement was worth the fortnight and 5k gold I spent gearing Kastarakov UP to catch Krush first time off with zero hassles." His reply? "...ohshit..."

Now, my guild's hunters and several more of the raiding team were made aware by my hubby of what I was doing. I wanted Krush on my Horde alt. That was my all-time final achievement on him (besides breaking 20k gold before Cataclysm) before I'd go back to seriously raiding with Lazona. I'm very bloody pissed at this Boomkin Druid of ours and he knows it. I've now told our GL I may not come back at all to raiding on my alliance hunter. Fortunately, he has a hunter alt (also Horde) and can understand the frustrations surrounding this mess.

I'm not impressed. I spent 5k gold being wholistically READY for a successful first off tame, and someone from my own damned ally guild decides to be a prick.

Now...do know what WoW-irony is?
WoW-Irony is having Krush killed on you for the third bloody time, then flying directly into the Storm Peaks in almost-tears and having Skoll pop up right underneath you as if he's always freakin' been there!

I named him 'Maugrim'.


(...all this bs punishment asides, I still want Krush and will tear out the next Alliance jackass's jugular if they take him away from me AGAIN...)

[Sonata]

*hugs* you certainly don't deserve to be punished like that!
More irony that this is actualy someone you know, like the jackass of a paladin! And 20k?!...okay need a gold farming guide pronto. Okay enough of irony.

He needs to repent for his actions, he better be sorry. But he understands the situation (I think) so he must feel awful now atleast to start.
Now you should gather up your strength a little all that camping creates alot of stress, atleast to me it's very stressing.
Don't give up, the victory only tastes sweeter when you have him, believe me!
I'll pray to P.Dawg to send his blessings to you! Kas shall have a Yoshi...I mean green devilsaur!

To the story.
Decribing the pack was awesome! How Kas is kinda doing a some knowledge gathering of the pack, thinking where the leader would be just like a real hunter.
And how at the start it was told from Ophios side. Thought how he was exiled from the pack made me sad, but that had to be done!
The denmother is really remembrable, gosh like big tough mom that Rahle. Rema, she is the only at the cave entrance at Blades Edge was she?
Poor Ophi has to stand a full on female group, heh that can be scary to a young wolf.

[Kastarakovski]

IT CAN BE DONE WITH 22.3k HEALTH AND 800 HASTE!!!! GOD DAMN IT CAN BE DONE!!!!

*THUD*<----- sound of me falling off my chair after two weeks, 5k gold and twitchy insanity

Sonata? Thank you for your prayers to P.Dawg...because I swear, because of you, I was back out in the bloody Sholazar Basin at 10:30pm SA time looking for Krush...and he spawned right where I wanted him to!

Let me tell you, I had the shock of my life when a former guildmate of mine from Tranquility, Asklepios, happened upon me getting feared by Krush (second unsuccessful shot, aiee!), and then joined my party thinking I was after him to kill him. I said I'd been after Krush for two whole weeks, he nodded, dropped group and wished me good luck. I tracked Krush into the wasps, got feared a further two times, snapped myself back into gear, grabbed another gorilla and calmly (if you could call having your husband sitting at his desk some lengths behind you physically HEARING the palpitations of your heartbeat!) talked myself through the steps for Krush's taming process.

Sent dummy pet in. Shot scorpid sting. Let the pet attack with a Thunderstomp (rapid pet tree respec with Krush two seconds away godDAMN). Took some of his health off. First fear goes off like clockwork. One controlled breath. Hit Pet Abandon macro. Hit Beserking. Hit Tame.

Krush attacks, cast bar is halfway. He crits me. BIG TIME. Twice in a row - one for 3k, the other for 4.7k. I have 3126HP left. There is a flash of blue light...and "Drachenstein" now stands besides Kastarakov...

I got him. With 1.8k less health and 400 less haste than every other Krush solo taming guide I've seen online.
It hasn't sunk in yet personally, but Kas is freakin' ECSTATIC
My little Troll Hunter's familial brood is COMPLETE and the stories shall continue post-haste FTW!!!




And after all that insanity...NOW I want him on Lazona too...

[Vephriel]

Wow!!!!

Major congrats, what an epic tame!! I love reading about Krush tames, I can just about imagine the pure adrenaline rush and high that you must get after a success.

[Kastarakovski]

The campfire had long since died out, leaving nothing more than a few, still-smouldering embers and a whisp of greyish smoke.

Kas was asleep under a giant palm leaf, one Mor'Vek said made excellent raw materials for temporary campsites when roughing it out in the Crater. Banshee had used some of her strongest silk to string together more of the huge leaves as a canopy above them, as the older troll had stated, the humidity of the jungle paradise often brought gusty winds and strong rains with it. He had alluded that the Basin had once been the sanctuary of several of the Titans, and as such, they had created it with its own eco and weather system - entirely separate to the rest of Kalimdor. Qendresa and Ophios were asleep on either side of Kas, and Sonique was tethered to a low-hanging branch also under the cover of the canopy. She too was curled up and asleep.

Mor'Vek was still awake, having chosen to take the watch that night, ageing eyes combing the darkness for that first sign of life - the wanderlust ones, as he had told Kastarakov. Mor'Vek and his Venomhides had largely stayed well out of the way of these humungous beasts, Devilsaurs as they had been aptly named by many explorers prior, they were only a real threat if one overstepped their mark into one of the big males' territories. There was the quick flicker of something in the palm fronds. Something was on the move out there, and it was sending smaller creatures into a blind panic as the fronds shivered and shook. He could hear its footfalls, years alone in the crater had attuned him to their movements.

Each big male followed a specific track:
The Great White, the "true" Devilsaur in many opinions, tracked west into the rockier outcrops, following the flight of the Frenzied Pterrodax.
The Tyrant, a bright orange hide likened to having been born from the flames of the Fire Plume Ridge, often strayed into other males' territories, just looking for a scuffle to prove its worthy dominance. They hunted the Diemetradons for sport mainly.
The Ironhide, a monsterous black and blue beast, was the most feared of the three. They hunted everything - Beast, Horde, Alliance, it never mattered.

But no, these footfalls were not of the norm. There was something far heavier to them, slower and more pronounced. The old Troll inclined his head upwards, and was rewarded by the sight of a massive maw crunching down on the greenery. Mor'Vek paled. He had been expecting one of the smaller ones, but not him, not the King of the Un'Goro Crater himself. This Devilsaur, formerly considered a later descendant of the Tyrant Devilsaur, was fifteen times the size of its smaller brothers and a complete omnivore. Plantlife and beastiary mattered not, as long as he was hungry and food was within his maw's reach. Mosh they called him - an ancient Titan name that meant "Monsterous". The Titans could be accurate in their terminology, Mor'Vek realised with bitterness. The sound of branches snapping had alerted Ophios and Qendresa, their fur standing on end. Banshee remained silent, lost in her deep dream.

"Easy, mon," Mor'Vek soothed. "Ya both don' wanna be runnin' hightail into THAT."

At Mor'Vek's point, and as the storm overhead boiled and sent a bolt of lightning streaking above the green canopy, Qendresa shrank back, horrified by the beast illuminated by the flash. Ophios's maw gaped, unable to comprehend the monster that stood only about 700 yards away from their campsite. They clearly heard the snapping of fang against fang, maw against fronds and tree bark, the resounding gulp and then the vicious crack of the massive jaws closing around more of the same.

Qendresa laid a paw on Kas's side, awakening him instantly. "What be wrong, Qen?" he mumbled.

"Company..." the pridequeen murmured.

Kas looked, and was taken aback by what he was seeing. Mor'Vek leaned back against his sleeping mount, a half-smile of knowing on his face.

"Dat be what me be meanin' by 'wanderlust ones'."

"By the Lua..." Kas whispered.

"Devilsaurs," Mor'Vek continued, not even hearing Kas, "Dey be a nasty lot on dere own mon...but him? Dat be King Mosh. He usually never go past his own domain of da Terror Run, but when he does..."

The Devilsaur stopped in mid-chew, raised its massive head and sniffed the air. Then, almost as suddenly as it had stopped munching on the greenery, it let out the loudest, most echoing roar Kas had ever heard. He felt every hair on the back of his neck stand straight, a cold chill running down the length of his spine, to his arms, hands, legs and feet. He'd heard lions in the Barrens roar when they were enraged but this...this was a cold hearted, merciless and bone-chilling warning. Mor'Vek sighed softly.

"Someone be going after his kin," the old troll muttered. "He be only roarin' like that if he sensed intruders."

"L-L-Like ussssss?" Ophios whimpered, huddled under Kas's blanket-leaf.

"Nah, mon. Dat roar be reserved for younger males lookin' ta score a female under his protection."

"How many females do Devilsaur males keep?" Qendresa asked.

"In a normal pride, up to twelve, they be layin' three eggs. Two survive, one always be eaten so the udda two grow stronger. In Mosh's case, every female 'saur in this Basin belongs ta him..."

"...look!" Kas gasped.

Mosh's great head had inclined downwards, carrying palm fronds in his maw. Huddled by the base of the tree, half-hidden by the sheet of rain and the rising steam from the humidity, was a much smaller Devilsaur, an Ironhide. It nipped at the air, open maw coming together with a clack-clack sound, almost dancing from one taloned foot to the other as Mosh dropped the fronds to the eager youngster below him. The Ironhide didn't protest, merely danced about before tearing into the green deliciousness post-haste, as if it was the last great meal he would see for a while. Mosh continued to eat his fill, occasionally dropping more fronds for the baby. Mor'vek watched with the same awe and disbelief that Kas and his pets were.

"Pureblood Devilsaurs that belong to da King are known for dere viciousness," he continued. "But...dat said...I be never seein' Mosh take care of da young..."

"Ya think somethin' happen to da mother?"

"Ya, mon. Probably claimed by anudder male, or worse...killed by one, mon. Dat would probably explain da roar we just heard."

"He was warning dem, wa'n't he?" Kas continued, awestruck by the sight before them. "Stay away from me kid."

At Mor'Vek's nod, Kas leaned back, watching the eager little Devilsaur devour his meal, tail wagging in a very puppy-like manner. His big father was looking about, almost concerned - almost as if he was expecting someone...or something. Satiated by his massive meal, the little one flopped over onto his back, looking up at his father playfully, but Mosh's great eyes of fiery amber were not on his son. They were fixated on the darkness to his right. As the little camp of two trolls, two raptorlings, a worg, a cat and a groggily-awake spiderling watched, something violently shook the greenery to their left, around the same amount of yards away as Mosh and his son. Mosh's face contorted into a snarl, razor sharp teeth, longer than Kas's own arm, glinted in the lightning-crossed flashes of light above the canopy.

There were six glowing blue eyes in the darkness - a trio of Ironhides - a pack - stalking towards the massive King and his heir. One stood almost as high as Mosh himself, and, as Mor'Vek and Kas realised, was a more than worthy opponent for the King.

"What be going on?" Kas asked quietly, arms around Qendresa, stroking her neck to keep her calm.

"Dis trio be a pack, probably rogues, mon. And his son bein' of da same scales..."

"Oh no..." Kas whispered.

"Dey want him back, mon."

Mosh stalked forward, blocking his son from their view, fangs closed tight together, a wall of ivorice stronger than Azerothian Diamonds. The Ironhide child poked its head from around his father's massive taloned foot, confused by his sire's actions. The taller of the Ironhide rogues inclined its head downwards towards the child, massive tongue running across its fangs. Mosh's head met the rogue's and slowly both heads rose back to their starting points. The other two rogues had circled around Mosh, the great King fully aware that his son, and only heir, was in great danger. Mor'Vek rose slowly, gathering his things and easing his raptorling to its feet.

"What are you doing, mon?!" Kas gasped.

"We do not want ta be here, mon," he replied. "Those four are going ta tear up dis area, and us along wit' 'em if we be hangin' around!"

"But we can't let---!" Kas was cut off by Mor'Vek's hand.

"You go into dat fight, Mosh ain't gonna know if you be a friend or if you be a foe!"

A terrified squeal tore their attentions away from their argument. The baby had been grabbed by one of the two smaller rogues, Mosh letting out a furious snarl in its direction but powerless to do a thing. The rogue had not closed its fangs completely around the body of the littler Devilsaur, but its expression seemed to be goading the King into acting, into killing his child. Mosh was trapped, and he...and Kas...knew it. Kas looked at Banshee, then at Qendresa, and finally to Ophios, who, despite his fear, returned the look with a nod. He snatched up his bow, took charge of Sonique's reins, and along with his three pets, charged towards the fighting Devilsaurs.

"YOU BE NUTS, MON!!!" Mor'Vek yelled at the disappearing four. "TOTALLY NUTS!!!..."


{TBC}

[Sonata]

You deserved Krush! And got him you did, with record stats and everything! Truly the blessing of the great P.Dawg is a miracle to behold.

And thankyou for feeding me my story snacks. *Reads the chapter in glee*

[Kastarakovski]

Krasus walked the ornate circular room of the Wyrmrest Temple, glancing over the sleeping forms of both Horde and Alliance heroes, survivors of Malygos's desperate attempt to bring down the Red Flight at the Oculus. Lady Alexstrasza had deemed it necessary to pull all those of whom she had met, and trusted on sight, to aide the Red Dragons in their battle against her insane brother, some of them to Krasus however didn't appear to belong in the sanctity of the temple. Krasus was so busy pacing around the room, he failed to notice he had stepped on a tailfin.

"Have a care, Dragon," hissed an annoyed voice. "I've torn your Black a new one for less!"

Krasus turned, the voice belonging to the reptilian form of Gezzarak, who lay, up until his transgression upon her tail, beside the sleeping forms of two felines, a worg and a spirit beast. Krasus recognised her as Nightshade, the beloved companion of Lazona, one of Alexstrasza's first summons.

"Where's your huntress?" Krasus asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the others nearby.

"She woke a few hours ago. Said something about being unable to sleep."

"Hmm," Krasus muttered. "Like some of the Horde heroes. Something about that fracas with Malygos shook them to their core."

"What did you expect, Dragon?" the massive warp stalker seemed to shrug. "It's a death of a Dragonsire they were taking part in. Laz may not be a mage or a warlock, but the arcane is something she held only a minute understanding over. To watch a Dragonsire so hellbent on wiping out all users of the arcanic mastery...do you honestly think it wouldn't have affected her?"

Krasus held his tongue, despite wishing to put himself at the reptilian's level. The creature however was correct - hunters only held a small understanding of how the magic worked, but coming up against Malygos, so hellbent on wiping out any and all users of the arcane - even he silently admitted he would be shaken to have met his consort's brother head-on in that way.

"Where is she now?"

"Laz? Titans know. Could be outside, could be up on the highwire," the warp stalker inclined a claw upwards towards the rooftop. "She wanted to be left alone, Dragon."

"Since when have you ever known us to have left any of you alone for long?" Krasus smiled gently.

"...you never smile, Dragon," Nightshade returned his smile with a toothy grin.

"Goodnight, Nightshade."

"Goodnight, Krasus."

Krasus exited the Temple, acknowledging the nods of the Draconid guardians at either side of the massive doorway. The Bronze Draconid inclined his head upwards, answering his silent question. He could just make out the form of Torialstrasz hanging aloft against the gentle swirl of snow speaking with someone whose legs dangled over the side of the shelf. Lazona it seemed had definitely 'taken to the highwire'. Krasus returned to his dragon form and swept up on rubeous wings, meeting Torialstrasz's gaze.

"Good evening, brother," Torialstrasz bowed his head in greeting.

"Return to your post, brother Torialstrasz. I will take it from here."

Krasus watched the bigger dragon reach out his taloned paw towards Lazona, seemingly to cusp her in what could only be percieved as a gesture of friendship between Dragon and Dwarf. "What you feel in your heart doesn't fade, young one. It is what all the heroes here have felt, and they will feel it for a long time."

"Thank ye, Torialstrasz."

Krasus waited patiently for Torialstrasz to return to his post outside the main chamber, before casting a gaze towards Lazona. Laz didn't even appear to acknowledge his presence, eyes far off into the distance of the Dragonblight. They remained that way for a long time, and even Krasus had to admit his wings had begun to ache at this silence. He was completed unused to his dragon form.

"Ye woke her."

Krasus was startled briefly by Lazona's flat tone. "Yes. It was accidental."

"How accidental is it when ye ask me pet where I be?"

Krasus never liked admitting defeat, especially by either his own kin or a mortal race. "The Lady is worried about you."

"Then why'd she send ye?"

"She didn't. I came of my own accord."

"Ye really don' like th' fact she cares too much, don' ye?"

Krasus landed on the largest flat of the shelf Laz was sitting on, before returning to his high elf form. "It has worried me in the past, yes."

"I wasn't even born yet when me Papa told me about th' battle at Grim Batol. About how she'd been forced to watch her own children die and be unable to do a thing t' stop it." Laz noticed that Krasus had looked away. "Summat tells me ye didn't even try t' understand anythin' she went through...and now ye come t' me lookin' fer answers about why she gives a raight damn about some silly heroes that she asked t' help her slay her own brother."

Lazona met Krasus's eyes when he turned back to her.

"I got every raight t' be bitter and upset for her, Dragon. That she can't see any other way t' help Malygos except by putting him down. She made me and a couple others, Horde and Alliance, return to Azshara t' tell Azuregos about the death o' his Dragonsire. D'ya honestly think he took that th' raight way? He almost took our heads off in 'is rage!"

"Yes...but it was you who offered yourself as a payment for his transgression so I heard. And Azuregos didn't...couldn't," Krasus corrected himself. "Kill you - he couldn't do what his Dragonsire had chosen to do to all the mortal races on Azeroth."

"I've spent enough time with Azuregos t' know that he's part Bronze, part Blue."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it, Hunter?"

"Is it really? When were ye going to tell her you know what he is?"

"I don't follow...?"

"Nozdormu, ye idiot." Laz growled softly. "I did what Chromie asked of me, and her answer was a wee bit cryptic, but during th' battle with Malygos, it suddenly made a lot o' sense why I saw 'im above me those two times I flickered in an' out o' th' timestream."

"Lazona," Krasus's voice was stern. "There is no proof of whatever it is you are going to say..."

"Really? Then why didn't he stop th' Infinite Flight from fighting 'is Bronze Flight? He has every means to, but he hasn't lifted a talon. Answer me why that is, Krasus?"

Krasus found he had few answers for her. "I honestly don't know...but if you're implying that Nozdormu has also turned against her Ladyship, then I ask you for conclusive proof..."

"Ye've known," Lazona snapped. "Ye've known for centuries. She said it herself - 'only the Timeless One could have forseen this'," her eyes narrowed at the consort Dragon. "Did ye honestly expect he wouldn't have left her clues? Left the mortal races clues?"

Krasus shook his head, "She has already lost Malygos. What you imply is that she has lost her entire family...!"

"Ysera is still trapped in the Emerald Dream. Neltharion has gone rogue, possibly due to return Titans know when. Malygos is dead. Nozdormu hides in his timestream. Yes, ye fool, I am implying she is th' last one left!"

"Why you arrogant, little...!" Krasus raised a transformed, taloned paw at Lazona.

"Stop."

A soft feminine voice interrupted their argument. Standing behind them was the form of Lady Alextrasza herself, in that quiet, regal way she always stood when addressing both the Dragon Council and her own flight.

"Krasus," she spoke sternly.

Krasus dropped his hand as if she had set fire to it. "My Lady, I..."

"Leave us."

"But, Alexstrasza..."

"Leave us."

Krasus said nothing more and took to flight without a moment's more hesitation. Lazona looked straight into her eyes, noting that her expression was softening into sadness.

"My Lady, I..."

Alexstrasza held up a hand, nodding. "I know. But your apology is unacceptable...because you are correct."

"Ye want me t' leave, don't you?"

"Yes," the Dragonqueen replied softly. "Torialstrasz will see you safe passage out of the Dragonblight."

"You know I'll still come when ye call for th' heroes of Azeroth?" Lazona replied, voice equally as soft.

"...I know. And I am grateful."

The last thing Lazona saw of the Lady Red was her back turned to her as she and the red male headed down to the Temple's entrance.


{TBC}

[Kastarakovski]

Nightshade sighed irritably as she woke the others, especially in the case of Tiberias. Sometimes, she both envied and hated Laz's infernal ability to get them thrown out of places they were exalted with.

"You irk me sometimes," the big warp stalker had told her. "Could have spent the rest of tonight sleeping peacefully, but nooooo..."

"Ye could have told Krasus to get some from th' Lady, you know?"

"And have him take my face off?"

"I will never understand how it is ye can tangle with a Black and take a chunk out of her tail, but ye won't have nothin' ta do wit' th' Reds."

"Hey, I value being alive and breathing, thank you!" came the retort.

Amenti, Griefstrike and Boannan were ready to leave, but Tiberias remained in his lounging position. Nightshade growled softly, but Lazona silenced her with a gloved hand on her head. She approached the spirit beast, whose eyes turned coldly onto her as she did so.

"What do you want?" came the ghostly growl.

"We're leaving Ti---Loque," Laz corrected herself just in time. "Are you coming with us?"

"No," came the sharp reply.

Nightshade let out a vicious hiss, tail lashing from side to side. That blasted spirit beast was heading for a real fight if he didn't watch himself. But what startled the warp stalker the most was Laz's nod, her acceptance to him remaining at the temple.

"She can't be serious..."

"I think honestly it's for the best," Griefstrike replied. "They're both too hurt to travel together."

Amenti tutted softly, "I was truly hoping he'd see sense that he can never return to Har'koa's side whilst their cubs are still infected..."

"Yeah, but...Laz is still hurting too, you know?" Boannan added. "I don't think she'd really be good company for him right now. We are, because we've been with her long enough to know there's a breaking point to her."

The other pets nodded, watching as Laz and the angry spirit beast continued to converse, his replies getting sharper than the last, her replies getting softer and softer. Finally, Laz stripped herself of her glove, laying a trembling hand on Loque's head. He stared up at her, confused momentarily by the gesture, watching her walk away, hand still gloveless. Loque didn't seem to understand what she had meant with that feeble movement.

"Let's go," was all her posture seemed to say to Amenti, Nightshade, Boannan and Griefstrike, for, without another word, the four pets left by the side of their Huntress. Loque turned away, still angry...but after they'd disappeared into the swirling snow outside the temple's entrance, his paw went to his headfur, still feeling warmth there. What had she been trying to prove with that, really?

"She was releasing you from the bond."

Loque'nahak turned to the sound of the voice. Standing beside him, having appeared out of clearly thin air, was Lady Alexstrasza.

"I've known her...and these other heroes...since before they were born. Many intrigue me with their actions, their souls and the way they fight...and what they fight for. Many bear loyalties to the underside of the cities they raise the flags for. Others just seem to travel through life making allies out of enemies. And some..." the Lady's voice trailed away, her eyes lowered to the floor.

"You hate her, don't you?" Loque'nahak hadn't meant to make it sound like he was proud of the statement.

"Somewhat," the red dragon admitted. "I hate her both for being right...and for having the courage to say it, very unlike the rest of my court."

"I see."

"Do you know, when she came out here to grieve for the loss of the King of Sholazar, she left with the knowledge she would never be rid of it?"

"...what?"

"I warned her it would affect her in ways she could not undo," Alexstrasza continued. "That it would affect others around her in ways she couldn't take back. She could let it fester and rot and eat her away from the inside, or she could return to the Basin and rejoin the hunt. I guess when she found you, she needed someone there who felt equally as lost as she did, and in bringing you to Har'koa, she probably realised that she had tamed you thinking you were the King himself."

"I felt that," the beast admitted quietly. "She treated me with respect straight from the start. And I..." Loque turned his head to the floor of the chamber. "...I was lost in my pain, too lost after losing all my memories of raising the cubs, of--of being Har'koa's mate, to see, or feel..."

Eyes of arcanic blue, etched with remorse, turned towards the dragon.

"I didn't even know...how to tell her I..."

"She did not come to this decision lightly, Tiberias."

Tiberias - the name she had bestowed upon him, Loque realised. Had the name been reserved for the great green Devilsaur, he wondered?

"No," the Lady continued, as if reading his thoughts. "Your name came to her as your name. Krush on the other hand was to be named Vermithrax."

"...she had never meant for us to be the same?"

"Hardly. Lazona...is an odd dwarf I admit," there was light in the Lady's eyes as she spoke. "I first encountered her after the loss of her second pet, Broken Tooth. True, I should have shown myself to her then and there, but where would be the fun in that?"

Loque's eyes travelled from Lady Alexstrasza to the swirling snow outside. "If I...went back...would she...?"

The red dragon fell silent, "Now that, I honestly cannot tell you the answer. If you were to return to the Basin, I am unsure whether she would seek you out again. I know you still remember her as the one who ended your life."

That poisoned throwing dart, thrown by an expert hand. He had felt its impact long before he realised it had embedded itself in his back. The rogue that had poisoned him had met a swift end from that crossbow she bore. He remembered that day, pure frustration and anger and...sorrow. She had looked away as her crossbow had released the swift bolt that had pierced his ribcage. In all her anger and frustration at being unable to save him, she still resented killing him. She had known he was too far gone to be saved. The humane thing was the swift and painless death, the gift, she had given him. And, with the same force of being batted awake by Har'koa's spirit, he remembered instantly where he'd felt that ungloved hand upon his head. In his final seconds of life, Laz had laid her ungloved hand upon his head, whispering something he could no longer hear in the twisting nether that consumed him. But, even as life left his body, that same touch had been to also say, in so simple a term, that he was loved.

The swirling white outside grew in force as a storm bore down upon the temple. Tiberias stared though glassy arcane eyes at where Laz had been standing before him before leaving that same gesture of love upon his headfur. He had made things so hard for her, for the others, for himself. And in his mind, he heard her words when his eyesight had faded, when the shock had sent his heart into an overdrive he could not recover from.

"Go, God of Sholazar. Be at peace. Return to th' Titans and remember that you are loved, and dearly missed. If we are t' meet again, may it be in better circumstance than this, may it be we teach one another t' love and respect everythin' that 'as come before us..." Tiberias's head dropped as if he'd been struck. "Goodbye, Tiberias..."

She had called him Tiberias even then, when he was not even bonded to her, she had called him by that name, that title; which at first had meant nothing to him, just another name from another hunter that sought him for his pelt. But, even in his way of thinking he had realised very quickly that Laz was different. She intentionally remained a beast master after she had tamed him, intentionally hunting with him, learning him, teaching him, refining his skills that had once only sustained himself, now sustaining an entire pride of creatures that called him brother. Had called him brother, he realised. It was at this point Tiberias realised he had sprinted from Lady Alexstrasza's side, to the edge of the archway, looking out across the vast whiteness, scanning for any sign of the Huntress and the family he had severed from himself long before it got to this point.

"My Lady," he breathed, voice a gasp.

"Go," Alexstrasza smiled. "Be at peace."

Tiberias raised a small smile before he sprinted away into the blizzard, on the hunt for his family. Krasus appeared by Alezstrasza's side, eyes to the disappearing beast.

"You need to stop fixing everyone else's problems, My Lady. Yours need to take precedence sometime."

"Oh, just stop, Krasus. Let me have what little time I recieve as respite from these events to help others."

"The Council have been waiting for you for over two hours, Kalecgos is...where are you going?"

"To attend to them. No doubt Nalice is unnerving Torialstrasz again."

Krasus sighed as he followed her back up to the top of the tower. The Lady Alexstrasza could be so confusing sometimes...

[Kastarakovski]

"Laz, seriously, put your glove back on, your hand will freeze if you don't!" Boannan admonished.

She was ignoring them, they realised, off in her own little world. They had taken to calling these stupors her 'regretful' ones. Her hand closed for a brief moment before she reached for her glove and began to slip it back on.

"Better," Griefstrike nodded, clearly in approval of the first real decision she'd made since leaving the temple's sanctity.

Laz stopped walking, turning her head back to the way they'd come. It was time to take flight on Winterfield, and there was still no sign of Tiberias. She had been praying, through some tiny flicker of hope that the beast would remember that she meant him no harm, but, clearly, Tiberias couldn't remember a thing of whatever past he'd gone through. It made her sad to realise that she had, effectively, chosen to leave him behind. She whistled for the protodrake that Alexstrasza herself had gifted her, the bright violet of his scales slicing through the swirling snow above them. He would circle thrice, scanning the area for any immediate dangers, before he would swoop downwards, gauge the distance ever so carefully, and come to rest just in front of her, panting like an ever-loyal puppy with wings.

Winterfield's appearance, a blur of bright purple against stark whiteness up ahead of Tiberias made him sprint ever faster. He knew Winterfield took his time in greeting Laz; carefully supported on his oversized back legs, he would reach for her, enveloping her with his wing-talons, blunted blade-like grasping appendages that she had affectionately referred to as his underdeveloped second hands. He had not been part of the family as long as Winterfield had been, but upon his arrival, he'd been snuffled all over and rewarded with a drool-coated lick of approval and praise. He had not appreciated the dripping slick then, but now it just simply felt as if it belonged as part of his memories.

From the moment he'd sprinted off into the storm, he had been assaulted with them.

He remembered his birth, moulded and cusped in the hands of the Titans, presented before the massive form of a goddess spirit beast he would come to know, cherish, and birth many sireling cubs with. The fall of the Troll Empire in which they were revered - the corruption of their children, and Har'koa's last wish for the Titans to save him whilst she fought to hold back the tide. His ask to the lesser goddess, Gondria, to watch over her and to aide her in her fight. His fury at being separated from Har'koa, his beloved. His fight to remain in the Basin, arguments made and broken with the Parrot Goddess Aotona, and the viciously powerful King Krush.

His fracas with the rogue who intended to see him a slow, painful death. The Huntress that had knelt over his body, cursing the fact it had been her to do this to him, that she had not been many minutes and seconds earlier to have prevented the decision to kill him. His awakening back in the Basin, his path that he was walking, aimlessly and remorsefully, devoid of all his memories before she had appeared and whispered those words of bonding to him...

She was dismissing them, he realised - Boannan first, Nightshade second, Amenti third - and as he approached, squinting against the haze, he could see Griefstrike too was fading from view, sat on his haunches like the regal packfather he was. His legs pumped, adrenaline surging through his every vein. He couldn't lose her, couldn't lose the Huntress that had at first meant nothing, and yet now, meant everything to him. He roared, sound echoing in his ears, but only faintly through the wind. Laz was stroking Winterfield's neck at that moment, the same way she always did before they took to flight, but something wrenched his head away, great orbs of amber focused in the direction of the temple.

"Wha' is it, boy?" Laz asked, concerned. "Hyenas?"

A faint blur of arcane magic caught Laz's eye and she too turned in the same direction, eyes shielded by her now-gloved hand and squinting in the blustery snow. Another blur of blue...and of silvery white - of pawpads striking the fresh snow and ice with a speed she had never seen before. Laz's breath caught in her throat. Tiberias cared not for the fact he was travelling far too fast to stop in time without barrelling her over, but only cared that she had not flown away with Winterfield and left him in the snow, alone and afraid and tormented by the memories through brought forth the wet trails down his muzzlefur. Winterfield lifted a wing in fright as Tiberias slammed into Lazona at full force, coming to rest some feet away, powerful forelegs grasped around the body of the dwarf who had taken him in and made every effort to restore his memories, and make new ones whilst she was at it. He felt Laz's hands reaching around his heaving body, wracked from sobbing and the effort it had taken to catch up to her.

"Wrrr-rrrgh?" Winterfield stood over them, eyes ablaze with confusion at the sight.

"I'm sorry!" Tiberias was gasping. "I'm so so sorry!"

"Wha'ever for?" Laz winced in reply, still dazed from the impact.

"For hurting you...for...being this pigheaded...and stubborn and...and..."

"We're both guilty o' that. Don't take on m' responsibilities on top o' yer own."

"You never gave up on me," the beast was sobbing openly now. "Not even when I shunned you. You made my memories return...and I...I..."

The spirit beast met his Huntress's eyes.

"I remember the rogue. I remember the poison. I remember you standing over him, his body riddled with your arrows...your touch...your words...your gift..."

"...you remember?" Laz's voice was soft against the tears rising in her eyes.

"I remember everything!...please...please forgive me...never wanted to hurt...or leave you..."

As if sensing that this moment was special, Winterfield drew his wings over the pair, shielding them from the snowfall. He panted happily, eager to help. Laz drew herself up painfully, still reeling from the force of his impact, arms still around him in that tender, loving gesture she'd given him when he had slipped away into the Twisting Nether for the second time in his existance. Tiberias clung to her still, never wanting to let her go, not until he heard her voice in his ear.

"Kinda getting colder out here, don' ya think?"

He noted the windchill and winced. She was right, it was getting colder out here. Bless his soul, Winterfield hadn't complained the entire time, wings still shielding them from the snow and sleet, mouth still open and panting in that grin, adding soft warmth where there was little to be had. This was his family, his pride. Whilst he may not have been made leader, a choice made long before his arrival, Tiberias noted that he could live with that decision. He felt Laz move and stood with her, her hands still grasping his fur in gentle affection.

"Shall we go, Loque'nahak?"

"No," he shook his head briefly and before she could reply, he added, "My name is Tiberias, remember?"

Laz grinned. "Shall we go, Tiberias?"

The spirit beast grinned back at her, eyes shining with the sparkle of arcane magic. "Yes, let's go have a new adventure!"


{TBC}

[Sonata]

Shame on me for not commenting earlier!

Oh Lady Red was the Alekstraza! Yes I didn't figure it out, but these kind of things make stories interesting.

You have done a wonderful deep backstory for Lazona.
Tiberas having a bit of doubt had me wondering how the real Loque would feel after being tamed. Rogues be damned they are an evil evil bunch, nobody should hurt the wonderful god spirit of Sholazar!
Explaining of downing of Malygos...my words can't explain how much I like this story.
Please don't stop!

...is it just me or are my reply posts a bit monotone.

[Kastarakovski]

So...I'm levelling another hunter Oo;
Character's got a purpose however (well, she did as a bank alt, but that's a whole different kettle of Sunscale Salmon). She's the smart-mouthed Blood Elf Huntress that has Kas smitten enough to commit to marrying her much later down the path of his story (post-Cata days).

Cleyandra starts life as proud a bitch as one can get femme Belves. Father's a High Elf Priest, Mother his former servant girl (a Mage). Cleyandra is the product of many years of pampering and suckling off the arcane energies Kael'thas promised his people ("That lying bastard deserves a good hard mace between the screws...") - as such, she's grown up not having to work for a damned thing in her entire lifetime. And by gum, she's sick of that life! She chooses the path of a Hunter, one of the Blood Elf Rangers she hopes to attain the status of. She'd rather be on the battlefield picking bone splinters out of her armor than lying on a silken bedsheet being fed grapes by an attentive harem. Though, along with the right man...*AHEM*

//gets slapped by Cley herself//

Her parents have grown up with a distinctive attitude problem towards other races. Cleyandra shared in this "attribute" as a young child until she entered the real world outside the ornate halls of Silvermoon City as a young adult. She travels with a number of companions - Trolls, Orcs, Tauren, Undead - but tends to favour her fascination in the gentle Tauren, and the 'murderous' Trolls. Her favourite city is Thunder Bluff for its love of the world around them. It is here she learns from an ageing Tauren Hunter of the world, and the creatures, that surround and dwell within. And it is he who makes mention of the vast array of beautiful beasts that live in the Alliance Territories...

Cley is adventurous to the point of insanity.

A risk-taker and a thrill-seeker, she diced with death in taming her Shadowclaw, "Moriarty", when the guards of Auberdine spotted them sharing a meal together. Moriarty is clever to the point of stupidity. Any plan he gets or sets into motion often results in him and Cleyandra running for their lives from angry beasts and Alliance members forthwith. Often with a large bone with quite a large quantity of meat hanging of of it gripped in his maw and Cley carring the bread, fruits and wine. Food (or the promise of a just reward involving a lot of shiny golden coins) will get Moriarty moving for anything!

Her white bat is named "VonGoosewing", who, by all accounts, honestly should have been eaten by a larger predator years before encountering her! His favourite pasttime is measuring the maw-and-claw-span of larger apex predators. Not even Cleyandra knows where it is he stashes that long length of ribbon with ancient Titan runes written on it, but he claims some silly Undead Excavator dug it up and left it lying there in the sun. He did not steal it however, he merely "borrowed" it for safe-keeping (so he says...)

After a long hunt for an appropriate third pet, Cleyandra stumbled upon the Strider Clutchmother...which turned out to be a Strider Clutchfather, whom she aptly named Kareem. Kareem, like his namesake, is very intelligent, loves peering over Cleyandra's shoulder when she's reading her quest instructions (often pointing out to the others that their next destination is a wonderful place), has a wonderful sense of direction, and is never late to the occasion. He preens his feathers. A lot. His defining feature is a large headfeather that appropriates his emotions at random occasions.

Her fourth pet, the worg known as Gorefang, came about by accident. She was riding by and the worg met eyes with her, stopping her dead in her tracks with his gorgeous amber eyes. He gazed at her with a contemplative look, even throughout his taming, he remained aptly observant of the young blood elf. He speaks of terrible things with a gentle, somewhat masterful voice, which has led Cleyandra to believe "Quint" has a touch of the Old Gods' influence running through his veins. Quint has taken to unnerving anyone who chances to group with his mistress in subtle ways. Whilst he wouldn't dream of abandoning Cleyandra, his brothers on the other paw...

Cley's first encounters with Kastarakov (and subsequently Lazona too) follow the events leading up to, during and past the Cataclysm.

Badly shaken by the events, Cleyandra is amongst a group of refugees rescued by Cairne Bloodhoof and Warchief Thrall. As reports trickle in of the return of the big black bastard (Deathwing), more refugees fill the scattered camps as the aftershocks threaten to take many more lives along with them. Kas has been wounded and has been escorted by a heavily-geared Dwarf into the camp. Bloodhoof warns her away, saying that the camp is for the Horde's own. Cley discovers, by VonGoosewing's interruptions, that this fellow Hunter is very much a collector of rare beasts - in measuring Drachenstein's maw, the playful devilsaur clamps down on the studious bat! Fortunately, there's no harm done to VonGoosewing, quite the contrary he's ecstatic to have seen a devilsaur's mouth from the inside, but Cley is absolutely livid...

One subsequent verbal beating given to Kas later and gathering up what remains of her dignity in the process, Cleyandra leaves the camp in the last known direction of Ratchet in the middle of the night along with her pets. None of the flight watchers have told her that the way is blocked by a chasm of lava and she's going to need a flying mount to get across it in the first place.

That long story shortened, (snip), Cleyandra's stubborn airs and graces meet a still-injured Troll's amusement, and after some bartering (food of course, as Moriarty discerns), Kas takes her to Orgrimmar astride Goldenshrike's back. It is here they discover the upheaval in leadership - and that Garrosh Hellscream, the new Warchief, has decided Orgrimmar is no longer for the other races of the Horde...

I haven't quite decided on what's going to fill the rest of Cleyandra's stable slots as yet.
I do have designs on her going to Azure Watch and stealing the Kurken out from under the Draenei's very noses and possibly terrorising the rest of Outlands with a Lost Torranache to boot. Or her taming a Disembodied Jormungar, naming it Nero, and teaching it the violin, ah ha. //slapped for her offbeat humor//


More stories about how Drachenstein came into Kas's life to follow shortly...

[Sonata]

Oh you altoholics....*hides her own alts* no I'm NOT altoholic...I swear! *is a closet-altoholic clearly*

Cley sounds very interesting!
Intresting that as a pampered child she chose (or got tired of being pampered) something that has physical work. She must want to rebel against her parents, one being a priest and the other a mage or something close to that like she enjoys more on being out on the road.
But her reasons why she had enough pampering could be something that can be written in a story!

Kas will have to give his all to get her, she seems likely to be a stubborn one to...uuh...need a good word here.

Her pets sound also wonderful, lot's of love for all three. Kareem really standed out to me, I just like curious creatures who are really intelligent, now I'll imagine him with a british accent.
Goosewing makes me have a laugh (and happy, you don't see many bat pets around), hopefuly the little thing won't get eaten or anything and Moriarty okay plainly makes me go aww...like a little child that would do anything for a cookie...now if all kids were that obeying.

I don't know about terrorising outland but the Jormungular playing a violin is a must...it could be interesting how a....no handed cute worm can play a violin!

Here to hoping for not too many grammar and typing mistakes.

[Kastarakovski]

Updating Cley's notes since Word on my comp has decided it won't work *sigh*

Duckula
Formerly the Black Hawkstrider Mount (60% speed)
Vegetarian, and very fond of his fruits. Bonded immediately with Cleyandra after she went around offering apples to each of the four 60% speed hawkstriders when she levelled to 20 (to see which one would take the apple from her - Cley wanted a fun-loving mount who would be a friend and companion for her next 20 levels). Duckula took one look at the apple, took it neatly off her hand, devoured its sweet flesh and then deposited the seeds back into her palm. Cley took him in on the spot ;D

"VonGoosewing"
Formerly Ressan The Needler, Level 11 White Bat from Tirisfal Glades
Named after Doctor Von Goosewing from the cartoon "Count Duckula". Whilst he shares the accent, he does not share the love of hunting 'wampires' (hells bells, he IS one!). He is an aptly curious sort, measuring others, like his brothers, wild animals and other people's pets, and noting the measurements down in the ancient-runed journal he carries everywhere...same with that ancient-runic measuring tape he "borrowed" from an undead excavator. Has a particular fascination for apex predators - especially Devilsaurs, which fascinate the bat scientist to NO end...!

"Moriarty"
Formerly Shadowclaw, Level 13 Nightstalker Cat from Auberdine
Named after Count Jim Moriarty, the character created by Spike Milligan for The Goon Show. Moriarty is a terrible schemer. Whenever gold or food is involved here's there like an ever-faithful puppy. He is constantly getting Cley in trouble, be it with other players or with wild beasts as he simply can't help himself when food is left unattended. He's not a thief, per se...but, if given the opportune...! He's playful and good-natured, if a bit nuts, and fairly woman-obsessed. Having a beautiful blood elf female for a huntress definitely is a plus for keeping this crazy cat in line.

"Kareem"
Formerly the Strider Clutchmother...er...father, Level 20 Tallstrider from Darkshore
Named after Kareem, a seven year old Rooster that resides on "Hikayat Simsim", the Palestinian version of Sesame Street. Kareem is exceptionally proud of his unique feathered coat, is never late, always in pristine condition and adores exploration. Having been tamed by Cleyandra, he is always the first to know where they are heading to next. It takes a lot to make this friendly bird angry at anyone, and no one's ever tried so far. He is stunningly fluent in nearly all languages on Azeroth, but his Draconic is a fair touch rusty - it's been an age since he's met a Dragon to hold a proper conversation with! His defining feature is a large headfeather that often helps display his mood to Cley and the others. Kareem also appears to be completely oblivious to bad attitudes from others.

"Quint"
Formerly Gorefang, Level 13 Worg from Silverpine Forest
Named after Quint, the somewhat maniac shark-obsessed fisherman from the movie JAWS (and also because if you look from the top down, the worg's body looks almost like the markings of a Great White Shark!) Quint can only be called strange. His bright brownish-amber eyes betray a deep calm as his masterful voice speaks of coming death and disaster. His gaze is almost hypnotic and anyone who stares for too long at Quint is mesmerised by those, and his words. Cley believes that Quint has some sort of Old God influence running through his veins, and would not be too surprised if everything he says will later happen down the track. He seems convinced that the Greymane Wall will soon come down, revealing the traitorous beasts that lie behind it - that he has seen the wave of disaster coming in dreams. Being around Quint for only a short period of time will convince anyone that this worg has really lost all his marbles...

Possible Pets
"Napoleon" or "Tootsie"

An impossible sort of musician, yet this talented 'saur has a thing for violins and cellos, and music appears to soothe the raging beast within. He/She is quiet and deadly, an apex predator that uses the jungle as a dancefloor, and his/her attacks are the dance itself. Cleyandra finds him/her wounded, and even then, he/she is still outraged that he/she let him/herself be wounded in such a manner during one of his/her private "dances". During her rushed tame (knowing that the beasts that did this will soon return to finish him off), she sings a song her mother sang to calm her nerves...and stunningly the great beast begins to calm as well. He/she is impossibly protective of Cleyandra, his/her musician. Anyone who threatens her gets the downside of a wall of fangs a foot high each. The song she sang when she tamed him/her becomes, in his/her mind, his/her own special music for every dance she sends him/her into.

"Kaa"

There's nothing aptly friendly about serpents. Loyal serpants to a god who treats them as slaves often don't have a mind of their own. Kaa on the other scale is a scroll-minder. He guards Hakkar's runic scrolls, etched with the blood magic of the Lua Gods and Goddesses. His job has led him to...peruse...a few of these scrolls before, learning his own form of inherent death magic that has amplified his venom content to fatal consequences - and his intelligence to remarkably astute levels. He's a moody son of a sea gerkin, and threatening people to comply with his masters' is the name of his game. He certainly did not expect to be cornered by an overeager huntress who invaded the temple on her own! His embarrassing defeat involved imbedding his fangs into the stone wall as he lunged for Cleyandra. It did not improve his mood any when he was "rescued" from his fate in the temple, but what changed his bad attitude was a trip to the Silvermoon Library when Cley was after a Draconic Tome for a friend of hers (Kas). Getting Kaa to move out of the Library involved a long length of rope, several Sunscale Salmon and Duckula towing him out of the mound of books he was under...

"Brain"

Named after the genius dog in Inspector Gadget, like his namesake, doesn't speak conventionally. He's a pointer, of all things, using the dagger-like appendage on his tail to "point" out the group's next direction. He's not very content with his lot, but having been born semi-mute (when he does speak, it's an almost stuttering-like vocal), he prefers to show people his meaningful directions, or just put his head down and do what he's told to. His lot in life consisted of evading well-meaning newbie Trolls who wanted his stinger for a quest reward and trying to successfully steal cactus apples without being jabbed by their thorns. He's somewhat of a jumpy nature when people creep up on him. He's an interesting sort of "puppy" without actually ever having been one.

"Yaffle"

The formerly strict and deadly guardian of Ysera's Green Dragonflight birthplace, once freed from that title, Yaffle as he is affectionately known by Cley becomes a flighty and talkative bird. Like Kareem, he is inquisitive, pouring over maps with Cleyandra and pointing out places he'd like to visit and explore. Despite being classified as an owl, Yaffle keeps the same awake-by-day, sleep-by-night attribute that his huntress and his brothers keep, but when he is restless, he'll go out hunting on the odd evening. He will often perch on Cley's shoulder, shielding her from the hot sun with an outstretched wing. He is loving and playful, and was the one who gave Cley a gentle nudge (re: shove!) in Kastarakov's direction...

[Kastarakovski]

I apologise upon leaving this thread on a cliffhanger - recently went back to raiding on Lazona and am enjoying it for the most part. Random DC's midfight however, I don't appreciate...*glares meaningfully at Blizzard*

Up and coming stories:

Blue Nether Part I
After a tumultuous series of events lands him in hot water during his travels in Shadowmoon Valley, Kas and his little family learn of the plight of Neltharaku, one of a small grouping of the Netherwing Dragonflight. In assisting the great drake, and freeing that of Karynaku, his mate and mother of the azure netherwings who fly before the Dragonmaw Fortress, Kas learns little by little of the flight's origins...and that of their father, the evil known as Deathwing...

Blue Nether Part II
With Mordenaku's help, Kastarakov takes the guise of a lowly fel orc and through it meets the enslaver of the once-breeding ground of the netherkin, Mor'ghor. Through his own ingenuity and helping a small goblin mercenary by the name of Yarzill to collect unspoiled Netherwing Eggs, he slowly gains favour and trust of the overseer. During an evening in the mines, the hired help accidentally dislodges the roost of a sleeping Nether Drake, Toranaku, and all hell breaks loose...

Blue Nether Part III
After the events with Toranaku, Kas is certain his cover has been blown to pieces after soothing the 'savage beast'. And he is right to be concerned, since Mor'ghor too has become suspicious...suspicious enough to pit him in an airborne deathmatch with Captain Skyshatter, his finest drakerider. If Kas fails to beat the airborne bastard, and he fails to impress Mor'ghor in the process of the race, he's toast...

Blue Nether Part IV
Kastarakov has barely escaped the Dragonmaw Island with his life, and now Yarzill tells him, he'll be meeting with Barthamus, the firstborn Nether Drake and son of Deathwing. Yarzill explains that he has saved many younglings in his time on the Island, and Barthamus would not let such a feat of heroism go lightly into the darkness. True to his word, Barthamus introduces Kas to six of his fellow drakes, together, the Council of Seven Nethers. But despite his heroic effort, he can only pick one of the six to bond with...

Blue Nether: Epilogue
Jorus...Malfas...Onyxien...Voranaku...Suraku...Zoya... - who did Kastarakov choose to bond with - and, more importantly, why?

Land of the Road Eternal
As the dusty sands of Durotar stretch before him, his presence is considered a stain, a freshly bleeding wound that refuses to close; he can tell their attitudes and thoughts from a mere glance. He is considered a rogue, may as well have said he'd become one, surely it would have been accepted a lot better than saying he preferred the company of beasts? But even as he restocks his supplies, the voices carry, and it's not long until they come running to ensure their words are heeded this time around...

Red Water
The time has come to return, to mate, to breed and reclaim her place as leader. But what of those she leaves behind?

Packleader Part I
Ophios has had enough of being shunted aside as packleader of Kastarakov's little brood, and makes his qualms known after a dear friend's choice is finally fulfilled. He is determined to ensure he is made leader in her place, but what happens next throws even Kas for a real loop...

Tanzanite
The bright parrot goddess Aotona has long lived in the Wildgrowth Mangal, soaring amongst the trees, plucking only the most delicious shoots and fruits from the overhanging vines. She has long-evaded Hemet Nesingwary and his hunters, long-evaded the travellers and the predators of the region, only to discover that whilst the winds are sweet and fun-filled, a quiet longing stretches in her soul, haunting her existance for as long as she has flown and chirped at the coming sunlight. In a split second decision to swoop through the eastern side of the Mangal, the life she collides with will change everything...

Packleader Part II
The heady fragrance of jungle flowers and humid breeze is shattered by an explosion in the far off distance. Ophios picks up the scent of something living, whatever it was walking away from the impact site as if nothing had even changed. Through his own curiousity and headstrong stupidity, the runtling worg runs off and encounters what is known as 'The God Of Sholazar', and in his haste to escape, unwittingly leads the angry predator right to Kastarakov and the others...

Stjärnfall
After being named, the former Loque'nahak reflects on his time as the God of Sholazar Basin, and in doing so, discovers he has more in common with his new master than he originally believed...

Emerald Fury Part I
Still smarting from his punishment for running off, Ophios defeats Drachenstein's attempts to cheer him up, angrily accusing the Devilsaur of being the cause of all of Kastarakov's humiliations and defeats. When the next morning comes and all that remains of Drachenstein's presence in the camp is a few talonprints leading off into the thick of the Sholazar Basin, the worg discovers his time in the stables just tripled...

Emerald Fury Part II
During another frantic, fruitless night of looking, a roar cascades through the jungle, sounding mightily like a devilsaur. Hemet however dismisses the roar as coming from Drachenstein. Drach is a baby, that roar came from a fully grown male. He adds that if Drach crossed paths with the beast that sounded this roar, his chances of survival are nil. Leaving Qendresa, Tanzanite, Stjärnfall and a still-disgraced Ophios in the stable, and stocking up extra food and potions, Kastarakov sets out to find his missing Devilsaur...and encounters a furious King Krush instead...

The Ruby Sanctum
Kastarakov reunites with Lazona after both Horde and Alliance are summoned urgently to the Wyrmrest Temple. The Twilight Dragonflight has returned and have made an attack on the nesting grounds of Lady Alexstrazsa and her fellow Red Dragons. Meanwhile, Lazona makes a decision that will ultimately alter the course of her fate, and in doing so, will tear asunder those she leaves behind...

Tremors
Following the events in the Ruby Sanctum, Kastarakov returns to Orgrimmar to seek his ambassadorial title, and, hopefully, bond with the city's famous armored worg mounts. Meanwhile, Lazona comes to blows with Brualan and Subutai, her Guild and Raid Masters, over the simple fact of her prolonged absences from the Guild in service of the Dragonqueen. In another part of the world, Cleyandra is faced with a terrifying reality that has claimed the lives of two of her beloved companions. And somewhere in the vast reaches of Silvermoon City, Tencents dreams of a world beyond his current reach, a world that his parents tried desperately to shield him from. What happens to these hunters at this time will either make them, or break them...

Protectorate
For many hunters, the bond with a companion is one of mutual understanding, of love, and trust, and devotion to a linked survival instinct that is stronger than any force on Azeroth, Titan-created or Dragonkin-borne. When a new companion enters the family, one that is not entirely percieved as welcome, things can take a more sinister turn. The Mottled Scytheclaw is one such beast, out for its own gains above the love and trust of others, caring little for anyone or anything that gets in its way, or attempts to stop it. They are brutal and relentless and considered the savages of the Raptor species. For Tencents, his decision to include a featherless raptorling, Zebedee, in his own protectorate family may very well be his undoing...

[Updates to follow]

[Sonata]

Yay updates! Happiness in the stories to come, I can't wait or that I can wait but I might die from sheer excitement!!
No need to say any apoligies, nobody is demanding that you need to stay on a stric schedule of story updates, if you get a writers block (writers blocks are evil) for example then you take a break and if you want to raid then raid by all means.
Have a fun day at work!

[Kastarakovski]

Halfway into the charge, Kastarakov had a feeling this was a bad idea. Sonique's speed was the one thing that kept him from getting snapped up by the gnashing fangs and roaring powerhouses they streaked right down the middle of. Mosh seemed to sense their presence was a distraction, or at the very least a welcome diversion enough for the biggest of the three rogues. The rogue, caught off-guard by the hastily-departing troll atop his raptorling, Mosh sank his ivory wall of fangs into the spinal section of the offending creature, before throwing the male a good distance towards some tall trees, running after him with long, purpose strides and gnashing teeth. Kas winced as the echoing roar erupted from the landing male.

"He's not going to be waking up the next day..." Qendresa called.

"If he does, it's gonna be the hell of a headache!" Ophios snickered.

"QENDRESA! WATCH IT, MON!"

Kastarakov, Sonique and Ophios veered off in one direction, a rogue hot on their tails, as the pridequeen did in the other. Qendresa found herself bolting directly between the legs of the rogue carrying the baby devilsaur. Its foot stomped the ground nearby, catching her completely off balance. Qendresa stumbled and slid to one side, by the tree roots. Banshee, fortunately, had skittered up the length of the tree, and leapt off its branches onto the rogue's back. This simple action caused the rogue to flail about, dropping the baby and flipping its great maw towards its back, trying to shake the venomous spider off its hide. Banshee however was a protective mother of many broodlings, and was not in any mood to skitter away from the brute that dared threaten a helpless youngling. As the rogue flipped his head back and forth, trying to reach her, Banshee travelled down towards its tail, where the flesh and the hide were the softest. She hissed furiously, venom barbs extending and with a furious bite sank her appendages deep into the beast's hide, pumping flow after flow of deadly venom into him. The rogue screamed in anger, feeling the pain enter its body. It stumbled forward, sight leaving its eyes and collapsed amongst the greenery, appendages twitching nervously. Even when the limbs had stopped their feeble twitching, Banshee was not letting go of the beast.

"Teeeeeeeaaaaassssshhhhhhhhhh shhhhhhhuuuuuuuu!" she kept hissing.

Qendresa limped forward towards the baby devilsaur, who had instinctively tried to hide itself under the tree roots. It was stuck, trembling and whimpering, and despite herself, she limped up and ran her tongue across one of the little one's wounds, trying to put a stop to the bleeding. The child whimpered, the sound reminding Qendresa as having belonged to her sirelings. She slipped under his smallish forearms, purring loudly, soothing the frightened creature. Banshee's hissing however kept the little one trembling.

"Banshee," Qendresa growled. "You're scaring him!"

"Rrrrrrph?"

"Besides," the great lioness pridemother muttered. "I do believe he's not gonna get back up...!"

Banshee stared through her eight black eyes, blinking in confusion. When she realised Qendresa was speaking truth, her fangs slipped back into their relaxed position and she disengaged herself from the dead beast's hide, spitting its tasteless watery blood out of her mouth.

"Yeeeurch!" she spat. "Too muchhhhh water, not enough blooooooood!"

"Glad to hear it," Qendresa chuckled. "At least now he's not gonna try anything!"

"Hoowwww issssss heeee?"

"Wounded. But alive. I think he's latched onto me though..."

Banshee couldn't help but chuckle - Qendresa was safely tucked in an embrace by the baby devilsaur. It held her like it would...well...a pet cat, honestly. Qendresa's purring was causing this little one to nuzzle her feline friend lovingly.

"Iiiii do belieeeeeeeve heeeee likessssss youuu!"

"I think so too," Qendresa replied. "He IS rather cute...for a baby-sized building..."

"Waaaaiiiit...where issssss Kassssss?"

Qendresa's eyes widened. Kas, Sonique and Ophios had disappeared along with one of the rogues. "Oh no...!"

Their thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of tearing bones and sinew close behind them. Turning, the tamed pets and the little one saw the King dropping the severed body of the largest rogue devilsaur just behind the dead corpse of their one. Banshee nervously backed up towards Qendresa, who was still held firmly in the little one's arms.

"I aaaaaam to be thinkiiiiiiing Daddy Dearesssssst may not liiiiiike usssss..."

"Uh oh..."

Mosh snorted, staring dead at them. The baby inclined its head to its father, clutching Qendresa closer. Banshee skittered behind her flank, raising a spindly appendage over her, trembling. Mosh took two steps towards the other dead rogue, huge amber orbs they called his eyes roving over the feline and the spiderling, then back to the deceased rogue's corpse. Banshee gulped. Qendresa looked up at the baby, who looked just as nervous as they did! Mosh used his nose to nuzzle the devilsaur, obviously waiting to confirm for himself that these two tiny creatures had taken down one of their attackers. When the corpse didn't move, Mosh's great head leaned over the trio, sniffing.

"How?" a gruff voice rumbled above their heads.

"...did I just hear what I thought I just heard...?" Qendresa asked, eyes ablaze with confusion.

"He ssssspoke!" Banshee was very close to freaking out.

"So small," Mosh went on, fangs unmoving, but he was clearly addressing them. "How?"

Banshee skittered forward slightly, after having had Qendresa's tail pull her spindly leg in encouragement. She raised one of her forelegs, grinning nervously. Mosh pulled away and cocked his head to one side, as if silently questioning the means of the eight-legged breathing thing. Before the giant Red one could continue his questions, a roar echoed out across the greenery, and Kastarakov appeared atop Sonique, Ophios almost a grey blur against the green beside him. Mosh turned his great head towards the disturbance, eyes narrowing. Through the steamy haze burst the third Devilsaur, snapping at their feet. Sonique was hard-pressed to outrun it, form almost a blue and gold blur to match Ophios. The rogue saw opportunity arise as it gained on them, and with a powerful swipe of its head, he sent the trio skidding forwards, Sonique screaming as she landed. Mosh stood protectively in front of his child and the two other tiny creatures. The rogue was so focused on the other three, it did not realise how close it was to him. Sonique whimpered from the blow, blood cascading from her broken legbone. Kas reached her side, ignorant of the stalking, almost smirking rogue, cradling her head on his knees.

"Sonique, mon..." Kas whispered, trying to calm her.

Ophios reached Kas's side and winced at Sonique's injury. He turned green orbs of blind fury on the devilsaur. Snarling at him, his hackles rose protectively and the rogue inclined its head downwards, fangs closed in what the worg could only percieve as a cunning grin.

"Monster!" he snarled. "Come get yer due!"

"OPHIOS!" Kas cried as the worgling ran straight for the rogue.

If nothing else, all Ophios could feel was blind rage coursing through him, pumping his legs like pistons in a Gnomish construct, a grey rocket towards this black and blue creature from the nine hells. From where Mosh was standing, watching the entire ordeal unfold before them, there was a frightened whimper from his child. Standing between the torn and bloodied corpse he'd mangled himself, to the lifeless body killed by this strange thing with many legs, something twigged in Mosh's great mind; these small creatures that invaded his sanctum on their journeys were just as powerful as he himself was, if not moreso. As the rogue's massive maw went straight for Ophios, the worgling darted to one side at the last second, leaping and sinking fangs and claws into its left eyesocket; so blinded by anger at seeing Sonique injured, Ophios's only thought was to take the sight of this foul creature if he could do nothing else. The beast roared as Ophios's vicious attack brought forth a fountain of blood from the punctured eye. It reared, shaking its head. Ophios tried to to dig his claws in, to provide his fangs more-needed grip, but on the third shake, he felt his grip loosen. The very next thing Ophios felt was his landing several feet away and the bloodied screaming from the beast who had thrown him.

"...that was...interesting..." Ophios mumbled, eyes unfocused from the impact of his fall.

The worgling stumbled fowards, collapsing. Unable to reach Ophios, Kas watched in horror as the Devilsaur charged at his pet, maw open like an oncoming bear trap.

"This...is it then...?"

The last thing Ophios saw before he fell unconscious was the huge red maw of King Mosh coming straight down on top of the rogue's neck...

[Kastarakovski]

Mosh only had to shake his head once before the series of wet, rolling cracks told his protectorate that the beast was dead instantly. Mosh held the beast in his maw, feeling the rush of blood cascade down onto the ground below. His eyes watched as this tiny blue two-legged creature reached the grey one's side, cradling it close. As if in understanding, the big red King began to drag the corpse towards the other two, depositing this one atop the other two. The baby had relenquished its hold on Qendresa, who, in panic and despite her limp, bolted for Kas and Ophios. Banshee stayed with it, a spindly leg atop its flank, eight eyes worried sick. Mosh inclined his head over his son, Banshee skittered back a little as the great maw opened and cracked down upon the tree root, freeing the trapped youngling. He raised his eyes at the eight-legged one as the baby all but wept into his massive legs.

"Name."

"Bansheeeee," she replied, bowing before him in respect.

"And them?"

"Friendssss and family of miiiiiiine."

Mosh regarded the wounded raptor and the worg with a careful eye, travelling from the other purring four-legged one to the two-legged blue thing. The smell of the dead ones would bring others around to investigate, the King knew this. But the raptorling had broken a leg and would not be able to move from where she lay. He seemed aptly surprised to see his son approach behind these creatures, looking for all the world apologetic for what he had caused. Something about all of this mayhem had shown him something perhaps not even the Creators were capable of. Mosh sniffed the air. The sounds of the fight had attracted the scavengers and from the scents, they were approaching from every corner. Kastarakov carried Ophios' limp body back towards Sonique, who inclined her head towards his furriness in panic.

"'S'alright, mon. He's just dazed," Kas spoke softly.

He placed Ophios down to where Sonique could rest her head on his. Kas honestly couldn't tell how it was Sonique had come to be so motherly towards his pets. Time spent in their company throughout travel, battle and quests had learned him each of his pets, and his mount, had personality quirks all their own. And Sonique had come to almost adopt Ophios as her own raptorling.

"How issss ssssshe?" Banshee asked upon her approach.

"Can't move her, mon," Kas replied. "If'n I do, I'll make it ten times worse..."

"Let meeeee try," Banshee offered.

Carefully holding Sonique's leg in place, Banshee spun some of her strongest silk to seal the wound, using her long legs to steady the silken gauze whilst Kas wrapped his raptorling's leg tight with bandages from the pack she carried on her saddle. Sonique didn't even whimper, head nestled in Ophios's fur. Qendresa laid a paw on Sonique's neck, watching over the proceedings. Mosh stood in front of the group, watching for trouble, whilst his son watched with him, every now and again looking back at the group that had saved him.

"That ssssssshould doooo iiiiiit."

"I hope so, mon," Kas replied softly, stroking Sonique's neck.

Mosh was the first to feel the drops of cold water as they began to fall from the heavens, inclining his massive head towards the height of the canopy. Kas could only sigh. That's what he got for getting involved in a devilsaur fracas! The timing was brilliant on the Creators' parts. Mosh pushed his son towards Kas and seemed to nod at him. The baby sat down beside Sonique, curling up around the little injured party. Mosh then surprised everyone by standing over his son, and in that case, over them, shielding them from the oncoming rainfall.

"Until light returns, sleep," was all Mosh rumbled.

The only thing Kastarakov could think of as he drifted off was whether or not Laz had anything like this happen to her...



Kas awoke the next morning to find Mosh and his son had disappeared, but Mor'Vek was standing over him, smiling with relief.

"...wha? Wha' happened, mon?"

"Scare me half ta death, mon," Mor'Vek chuckled, inclining towards the raptor-drawn vehicle. "I was about out of da crater when he showed up. Tought he was gonna kill me..."

"Mosh?"

"Ya, mon."

"What happened den?"

"All he did was look at me, mon, and den start back down da slope. Kept lookin' back at me with dem huge eyes. Ya musta made a good impression on da King."

Kas felt suddenly empty without the big red one standing over them. "And afta dat?"

"Waited til I finally got da courage ta follow 'im, mon. And den he led me ta you," he chuckled. "I seen many come trough here. Many go looking for da King and end up on da wrong side'a him. You be one of da lucky ones."

"Sonique...?"

"Break is clean, mon. She should heal fine."

"What about the youngling?"

"Eh?" Mor'Vek looked at Kas with some confusion. "Mosh be comin' ta find me alone, mon."

Kas's eyes widened. "Alone?!"

"Ya, mon. Come on now, we best be gettin' ya back to me camp. Ya got a lot o' repayin' me ta do, ha!"

As Mor'Vek began to ease Sonique onto a large mat made of hides, Kastarakov turned towards the trees, thinking about the events of the past night. Mosh had respected him enough to go and find Mor'Vek, to go and find help, at the greatest cost of probably being sighted and killed himself. At any rate, the young troll sighed, he'd probably never see either of them again. He smiled softly, remembering how the baby had curled up with Qendresa in his arms. Probably pictured her as a playmate of the purring variety. At this thought, the feline herself padded up beside him, nuzzling his hand with her head.

"I'm going to miss him too," she whispered.

"Come, mon, let's go. Mor'Vek's gonna need our help."


Kas hadn't been keeping track of time as he helped Mor'Vek raise his Venomhides. Sonique had healed, but he'd been told now she would never be able to learn Northrend Training. Kas had accepted this, but he could tell she hadn't. Ophios had spent a few days unconscious, but had awoken bruised and battered. He carried a battlescar from his tangle with the rogue and now seemed to adorn this badge of honor proudly. It was making him rather up himself, but, Kas figured it would burn itself out long before he made any trouble with it.

Mor'Vek had finally given him the reins to "Scalebane", a large male Venomhide of whom Sonique had spent time recovering with, wishing them well on their journey to Silithus, the last of Kas's triumphs before his journey towards the Outlands. Banshee had taken to travelling atop Sonique's saddle, she seemed disturbed and quiet after the events with Mosh. Kas had thought it best to leave her be for a while.

Though she was still limping slightly, Qendresa had refused salve on her leg. Like Ophios, she said it was a triumphant battlescar for her. But, like Banshee, she was also quiet, no doubt her mind firmly imprinted on the baby Devilsaur they had saved. Her motherly instincts had kicked in and she missed the overgrown lizard. Ophios had taken to walking proudly beside Qendresa, his first challenge as Packleader, in his mind, a triumph.

Kas stopped leading his raptors for a moment, glancing behind him, ears open. Something in the trees, the flapping of wings, had attracted his attention.

"Mosh...?" he breathed.

His pets eyed their master carefully, as if wondering if he had lost his mind. Ophios sniffed the air.

"Wait," Ophios said, maw in a grin. "I smell them!"

And then he appeared out of the trees behind, the great red King, stomping towards them, as if he'd been there the entire time. Behind him trotted his son, maw split open in joy at seeing their group again. Mosh seemed to regard them carefully before inclining his head to his youngling, easing him forward with a nudge. And continued to nudge the youngling until it began to trot towards them. The red King however stayed put. Kas handed the reins down to Ophios before approaching the Ironhide, whose nose met his hand, mouth almost panting like a happy puppy. Kas noticed that Mosh was watching, but was easing away, the baby not even noticing his father's departure.

"We need a name for you, don't we, mon?" Kas grinned, nodding in Mosh's direction. "Something like your Dad."

"Regal!" Qendresa purred.

"Masssssssterful!" Banshee agreed.

"Powerful!...but not as powerful as mine, mind..." Ophios smirked.

"Ya, mon...all of de above..."

Mosh halted his leave, just long enough to see Kastarakov and his son bonding under Freya's will. And just long enough to hear the name this mighty blue creature on two legs bestowed him with.

"Drachenstein...da dragon Prince of da humans legends."



As the great red King of Un'Goro Crater departed into the undergrowth and Kas and his newly-extended family celebrated on their way to the sandy deserts of Silithus and beyond, the winds told the mighty leader his son would be just fine.