(( The second installment of Shadow of the Forest: Impetus is here! I’m up next. Hope you like it! ))
The Warsong orcs sung their song through axe on wood; the trees’ harmony echoed sad ballads of creaking and splintering and ended in a crescendo of bark on soil. A sound easy to hear, even over the whirring and buzzing of goblin made saw machines. The kaldorei woman sat on a tree branch, high above the camp. Her armor of dark green Ironwood bark and the dark grey and brown of leather steeped her in the canopy above and the glaives of Silverwing steel glinted starlight. It concealed her easily enough. Away from the dull eyes of the Horde below. She watched.
So much for a ceasefire… Or armistice…
Whatever they called it, these orcs and goblins didn’t get the order, or more likely they did not care .
But we do…
Three is all they deemed necessary to escort a caravan of saw buzzers from their lumber camp to the Mor’shan Rampart .
Three…
Gwy’neth felt her twin glaives on her hips and checked to make sure daggers sat discreetly in the boots that didn’t make a sound as she jumped down from branch to branch, then onto the green foliage that blanketed the forest floor. She followed, silent and unseen.
They are clumsy… . she mused.
She trailed them, those three, through the path leading past Forest Song. That was their second mistake: she could track them easily in the denseness of the leaves and brush but much more so out in the open. Their first was ever setting foot in Ashenvale.
…
A grunt and a crash to the ground, these orcs didn’t know how to fall. A bone broke, somewhere, but the Sentinel didn’t seem interested in that. A boot lay on the orcs writhing body, pressing into the chest so that he couldn’t squirm away. He looked up defiantly.
“Where are the others? SHOW YOURSELVES!” He looked around as best he could, waiting for something to emerge from the trees. Gwy’neth tilted her head, as if trying to understand. She bent down close to the orcs face; his hot breath bated under her weight. She leaned in more, her eyes trying to glean something from the orc’s. When the Sentinel was inches away from his face, she spoke in Orcish, “One.”
With one movement, the orcs throat laid bare and in another, the elf was gone.
…
Pinned against a tree, the panting orc tried to pry the dagger from the bark, but it seemed as if the dagger wouldn’t leave, or that the tree would not let go. She was panicked, one shoulder immovable unless she took her shoulder pad off, but she couldn’t get to the straps- the dagger kept her shoulder too close to the tree. It did not matter much. From the trees opposite the orc, Gwy’neth emerged, glaives drawn. The orc called out, but the voice did not carry. The leaves softened the echoes, the branches dragged the calls down.
“Two,” and the struggle was over. The orc’s body slumped; the dagger finally pulled from the bark.
…
She glowered. “What is this?” The orc woman stood the ground she stood on, but it was not her own. Heavy feet slid across the soil as she backed up, looking around panicked. The shadowed glen was dark, too dark for the orc to see properly in. Gwy’neth needed only to rush back and forth between the trees, snapping a branch here, rustling leaves there for the orc to frantically turn this way and that- too distracted to see the root on the floor. A yelp of surprise preceded the splash the orc’s body made when it fell into the small stream that found its way at the end of the fall.
The woman struggled to get up, the mud not giving the desperate lumberorc a spot to level out. By the time she crawled out onto the floor, she had exhausted her energy. She flopped onto the soil, turning over onto her back and using the last bit of strength to push herself against a tree. Her eyes shifted back and forth across the glen. Quiet and stillness were all she found. Several moments passed: several anxious moments. The warrior found her breath again and slowly stood, wiping mud from her face and body. A quick glance around to get an all clear was all it took for Gwy’neth to emerge from the trees. The orc turned back quickly to set off but found herself face-to-face with the elf.
A strong arm held the neck of the orc against the tree. She struggled to breath and talk. Gwy’neth looked into the black eyes of the Warsong that dangled slightly above her, searching. The orc attempted to speak again. The arm of the elf released a bit of pressure and as air filled the lungs of the orc, she sputtered, choking on it. After a few moments, she spoke. “Who are you?” Gwy’neth’s hard face barely moved as she replied, “The Shadow of the Forest.”
“Three.”
Gwy’neth Shadowbreaker, Commander