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Both Sides Now	By : Firefall_Varuna Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 4996 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, races, characters, settings, or themes presented within. I do not make money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 4 – Farmstead

"Una!" Anaru's scream joined the Captain's cry a moment later, his voice laced with panic.
The young woman sprinted up the ramp, her mind racing with different scenarios, each worse than the next. She slipped on the thawing rivulets of blood, but recovered before she went entirely down.
She found Captain Garrack and her cousin bent over Private Powell and surrounded by a pool of blood. Anaru's hand were clamped over a grievous wound in the human's leg, blood was pumping out between his fingers. Captain Garrack was hurriedly tightening a tourniquet made from a strip torn from his own cloak and a discarded axe handle. The human was already unconscious, his breathing shallow. She didn't need to check his pulse to tell he was near death.
Hakander was sitting against the wall gritting his teeth as he muttered a healing spell, his meaty hands clamped to his left thigh. A dead gnome rogue lay in a crumpled heap before him. Between the female's crushed skull and the paladin's crimson-stained hammer, the cause of death was evident.
Una threw herself to the ground, placing her hands over Anaru's. She called upon her strongest healing spell and Anaru did the same. Little by little, the hemorrhaging slowed. She roughly brushed aside her cousin's hands and slipped her fingers into the wound to search for the severed vein. Una located it quickly and poured healing energy into the wound. She felt the vein mend under her fingertips and she withdrew her fingers, moving on to another injury.
Powell's other wounds continued to pour blood. Driven and desperate she called on the Light with all her strength. She felt Anaru lend his power into the healing spell. She heard Hakander's step behind her. The Draenei placed a brilliantly glowing hand against the human's chest.
She pressed trembling, blood covered fingers against his carotid artery to take his pulse. She let out the breath she had been holding when she noted both his pulse and breathing were improving. Una nodded to the two men and Anaru patted her back.
Shaking, she stood for a moment to take in all of Private Powell's injuries. Those wounds were too deep to be from a rogue and in the wrong places. A rogue would most likely go for vitals like the throat where the carotid artery and the external jugular vein were housed. However, he would have bled out in seconds if the rogue had done this. The rogue Hakander encountered had obviously made a hasty attack for his femoral artery, but had either missed or been foiled. Powell's wounds were half crushing injuries and half slashing.
She gazed down at her hands and was mildly taken aback to see she had automatically put on her other set of surgical gloves without noticing.
Suddenly, the stench of putrefaction reached her. She looked out into the field to see the rapidly decaying corpse of a male orc. Even though combat had only ended moments before, the corpse was already in an advanced state of decay. It wasn't the first time she had seen a necromancer decay at an accelerated rate like this; she'd witnessed it before while traveling with Hiram, but it was somehow much worse this time. The elf guessed it was because of the intense heat.
Una gagged as another wave of stench passed over them and staggered backwards, turning away from Powell. "Who the… who was..?" She managed before a dry heave silenced her for a moment.
"Blackadder." Garrack said softly in explanation as she gagged again. "He took the coward's way."
Una swallowed hard and took deep breaths.
Once she'd regained control of her gag reflex, she looked around at all the corpses that hadn't been there when they went in. This attack had been much more intense than their initial battle. These cultists were much better armed, trained, and organized as well. Among the corpses, she could see Privates Follet, Meyer, and Davidson, but there was still three men unaccounted for.
"Fan out!" Anaru ordered, "Private Rivas, Private Martin, and Private Stanton are all missing. And stay alert!"
The men started to disperse in teams of two. Tallak cupped her right elbow silently and nodded. She understood he was indicating he would remain with her. She knelt beside Private Powell once more and started to work.
"They're not alive, are they?" She whispered.
The hunter shook his head and touched his index finger to his lips to indicate he wanted quiet. Una worked in silence, slowly feeling anxious as her medical kit felt lighter and lighter as she worked.
"This doesn't sit right." He muttered as his lip curled like a cat examining a new and foreign scent. His wolf was growling with raised hackles, but couldn't seem to pinpoint the smell either. "This isn't right…"
Una started to question the hunter when he hissed and swept his hand in a slashing motion. She sucked in a breath and held perfectly still.
"Demon…" He breathed.
She leapt to her feet and stood back to back with him, her green eyes darting rapidly in search of the enemy. Thompson, Dagan, and Ludger were all still in the cave and only Thompson was in any condition to help. The others had spread out, checking the horses and searching for the missing men.
Una thought she saw a wisp of violet smoke as her vision went momentarily hazy. Tallak's eyes glowed blood red as he turned towards her. The same eyes she had been warned about her entire life. Cold realization formed in the pit of her stomach. He was the enemy; she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before.
The hunter was reaching for her. Una swung her mace, catching him in the face. Mesmerized, she watched as his cheek rippled from the force of her blow, bloody spittle launching from his mouth as if time had slowed.
Tallak sprung away from her with remarkable agility and she lost sight of him around the edge of the rock. She jumped over Powell and raced after him.
The paladin barely exited the mouth of the cave when she heard an ominous click. Magical ice incased her body instantly. The orc stepped back into view a moment later.
The orc was yelling. What he said, she couldn't hear.
Suddenly, the already imposing orc tipped his head back and roared as he seemed to double in size. Whatever kindness and empathy he possessed fled his eyes, replaced with only animalistic rage. His wolf darted past her in a furious charge.
The hunter raised his bow, pointed directly at her. Arcane energy filled the arrow he was drawing.
He fired.
Una gasped sharply as she opened her eyes into darkness. Disorientation gripped her, quickened her pulse, and her mind whirled.
She held herself still, straining her senses. Her training cautioned her to determine where she was before she dared to move. She twitched her fingers until they closed over the hilt of her mace.
A stuttered flash illuminated the white canvas in front of her face. The cloth was gently rippling in the night air as though it were breathing. A gust of surprisingly cool yet humid air drifted in to kiss the exposed skin of her stomach and chest. It brought with it the smells of sweat, freshly cut hay, livestock, and manure.
Somewhere in the distance came the sound of a dog barking and closer the sounds of bubbly snoring.
Una sighed with relief as she comprehended where she was.
They were at Garrack Backbreaker's farmstead. Their tents were behind his family's mud and wattle homes, in the lee of a large rock formation that would protect them from the storm threatening to roll through. The wounded were sleeping inside Garrack's home tonight, attended by the Captain's wife.
The fight with the Lich was over, their mission successful.
Una tried to relax, but her nerves forbade any comfort. The memories of the fight raced through her mind unchecked. The demoness had mind controlled her into attacking Tallak, using the controlled and unconscious fear she held for their Horde allies. He had responded with the legendary ferocity of the tales from her youth.
The paladin groaned and tried to push it from her mind. She reminded herself that once the succubus controlling her was dead, Tallak had freed her from the trap, thrown her over his shoulder, and ran for cover.
Luckily, her bra provided temporary distraction. It was biting into her right side, begging her to move and adjust it. The young paladin rolled onto her back, sliding her hand into the garment to adjust her breasts and pull it back where it belonged. Her padded leather pants she normally wore under her leg armor were bunched in odd, frustrating places as well. Her chin throbbed from where her knee had struck.
Una rolled over, trying to put yesterday out of her head and get comfortable again. However, sleep seemed determine to elude her for another night.
At last, she crawled out of her tent and surveyed her darkened surroundings. To the west, over the rocks, dark clouds boiled on the horizon. Thread-like tendrils of lightning traced the curves of the gravid clouds. The moon was obscured by low, dark clouds. Somewhere to the west, Darkshore was being lashed by one if its infamous storms.
Behind her, light shown from within Garrack's spartan home and there were signs of movement within. Dagan's and his wife's half-completed home was dark; the hunter was visible through an unfinished wall sleeping in a hammock. A third structure, much bigger than the existing homes had just started construction. Large stones had already been laid for the floor and roughly hewn beams were ready to be erected.
Turning back around, the paladin's eyes landed on a spot on the rocks. A soft, blue glow emanated from somewhere above, not connected with the distant lightning. Another flash of lightning lit the sky and the harsh shadows cast by the rocks outlined a previously hidden path. She frowned, she hadn't remembered the path when they arrived at sunset.
"Sentry Totem, Honey." A deep, yet very feminine voice said softly. Una looked behind her at Garrack's wife. The matronly orc was silhouetted in the rear doorway of her home, wiping her hands off on an old rag. She had her graying, brown hair pulled back into a tight knot at the back of her head. "We can't be too careful out here."
"Oh." Una uttered softly.
"Can't sleep?"
Una shook her head and sighed. "I haven't slept well in days."
With a soft mutter of maternal disapproval, the shaman beckoned to Una and vanished into the hut.
Casting one last look up at the light from the totem, the paladin followed her inside.
The one room hut was tight and very warm, despite the metal fire pit having been moved outside. The small, traditional Orcish house was never meant to accommodate more than Garrack and his family. Una moved cautiously through the disrupted home. Garrack's wife was busily going through baskets filled with containers of all sizes. The crude shelves that had held the containers had been moved outside to make room.
Dagan's very pregnant wife sat in the house's lone chair near the front door, taking in the cool breeze from the encroaching storm and looking extremely uncomfortable. The hunter had been right: the female orc was indeed ready to give birth at any time now. Her light-weight homespun gown clung to her sweaty skin and across her enlarged belly.
Garrack's youngest daughter, a girl just barely into puberty, was sitting on the dirt floor beside her elder sister. The adolescent unabashedly stared at Una, watching her every movement. Skeins of brightly dyed hemp twine lay forgotten across her lap and a variety of wooden and bone beads were scattered across the dirt floor. Her brown hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, spotted here and there with beads she'd tied into her hair.
Ludger was snoring loudly against one wall and the other wounded on animal skins laid upon the floor. Despite knowing little about shamans, she knew a more experienced healer when she saw one. On the way here, Una had insisted the demolitionist be kept awake. However, the older woman had examined Ludger thoroughly and overruled Una's instructions.
Her gaze finally fell on Private Powell. The human rested on a pile of animal skins, his skin ashen. Of the newest recruits, only Powell had narrowly survived the surprise attack.
Una picked her way over to Private Powell and checked his vitals. His pulse was weak and his breath shallow, but both were regular. The paladin bit her lip, wondering how they would evacuate him.
"He's in good hands," Garrack's wife said. "I've seen worse."
"He almost bled to death." Una said solemnly. "He might still lose that leg."
"Bah!" The older female said, "He didn't die. You did just fine, Dear."
Una stood up and turned helplessly. She was notoriously clumsy, but had so far avoided displaying it often. In a room as cramped as this, it would be easy to trip. "Mrs. Backbreaker…" Una started awkwardly.
"Call me Maggie." The older woman interrupted turning and casting a practiced gaze over the walls.
"Maggie?" She blinked, staring at the female orc.
The shaman giggled and Una had no choice but to smile in spite her of exhaustion. Maggie's laugh was buoyant, cheerful, and decidedly infectious.
"My name is Meigmoga, but you can call me Maggie if you wish." The orc woman said evenly.
"How in the world did you end up being called Maggie?" Una realized how rude that probably sounded. "I'm sorry, I meant no disrespect," Una exclaimed quickly. She could see why she went by the name, but not quite how an orc could come to be called by such a very human name.
Maggie smiled gently and inclined her head towards the pregnant orc by the doorway, "Bah, you're fine, Dear. I was pregnant with Basya over there when Garrack and I were taken to the internment camp. The warden was a rare man of honor. I was having a difficult pregnancy; he made me a maid in the guard's barracks. They called me Maggie, since no one could pronounce my name."
Private Powell groaned in his sleep, making Una jump. Maggie raised an eyebrow and stared at the wounded man a moment.
Satisfied the man was fine, the orc woman looked up and then her face brightened. She said something in Orcish to her youngest and pointed. The girl jumped to her feet and fetched a small jar filled with a light green liquid off a shelf for her mother. Maggie poured a little of the viscous liquid into a wooden cup and then filled the remainder of the cup with water. She stirred the concoction with a questionable looking spoon and offered the vessel to Una.
"Drink. This will help you sleep."
Una gazed at it, torn. She had listened to endless tales of the vicious Orcish Horde and their deeds in the Eastern Kingdoms. Her parents had killed scores of Orcs. In under twenty-four hours, everything she knew about the race had been turned on its head.
When they had arrived, Dagan had shared a brief, intimate greeting with his wife. Garrack had swept his youngest up into a tight embrace before shooing her off to do her evening chores. The Orcs had then settled in to perform standard farm responsibilities. Everything she had seen was just so… normal.
She heard male voices and looked through the front door to see Garrack, Tallak, and Hakander leaning on the fence of the Kodo pasture despite the late hour. The Orc men had changed into simple homespun clothes while Hakander was down to his padded leather breeches.
The paladin couldn't help but feel she had stumbled into another world.
"Lady Whitebrook." The shaman repeated, this time more forcefully. Una blinked and looked at the orc woman once more. "Go to bed! You're falling asleep on your feet!"
Una accepted the cup and drained it. The medicine tasted slightly sweet and earthy with notes of several kinds of herbs. It wasn't at all unpleasant.
"Go lay down, Honey." The orc woman said kindly. When Una didn't react, she seized the elf by the shoulders and turned her to face the rear door. "Now, girl! That sedative is fast-acting!"
Una took a step and promptly fell over a heavy, squat sack filled with coarse flour. Her flailing hands caught on a small armor rack, sending the mail armor it held toppling to the floor. She heard Ludger snort as he awoke.
Maggie rushed to her, picked her off the floor, and dusted her off brusquely. She took Una's hands and flipped them over to check her palms for damage.
"We have this, Mama." Basya said softly, heaving herself out of her chair. Her little sister was already picking her way across the room. "Get her to bed."
Sure enough, Una's limbs were suddenly starting to feel heavy. Maggie helped her out of the hut and over to her tent. The young woman crawled inside and fell asleep the moment her head hit her bedroll.
She awoke to Anaru lightly shaking her. She rolled over onto her back groggily and saw her cousin framed in the doorway of her tent, a look of concern etched on his face. The sun was shining brightly behind him and she suddenly realized how hot it already was.
"Good afternoon." He said, frowning.
"Afternoon?" She asked in alarm. She hurriedly tugged a shirt over her head and scrambled out of the tent and to her feet. "Anaru… Commander! I am so sorry…" She had moved too quickly and unexpectedly felt lightheaded.
Anaru waved her apology away as he steadied her. "You're fine. The bridge was flooded from the storm this morning. We'll break camp shortly."
Una nodded and rubbed her face with a groan.
"If you're hungry, Tallak was kind enough to cook some sausage for us." He said, still looking concerned. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Are you sure you're alright, Una?"
"Nothing another good night sleep won't cure." The young woman shrugged.
"You'll get it." Anaru smiled with a nod. "We're going to Ratchet to find a mage to teleport Powell and Ludger to Stormwind for treatment and to await new orders."
She ate some breakfast and began to pack her things. She desperately needed to restock her kit. She hoped there would be no action or necessity before they reached Ratchet. As they said their goodbyes to Garrack's family and prepared to move out, Garrack hitched up a wagon and brought it around.
They loaded Private Powell and Lieutenant Ludger into the back and she climbed onto the wagon herself. One she was satisfied they were secure; she sat beside Garrack so she could keep an eye on the two wounded men. Anaru tied Vesper to a long lead along with the horses belonging to the deceased men.
They rode in comfortable silence for a several hours. The bridge was clear and only thick mud and flattened grass testified that a flash flood had occurred earlier that morning.
"Guess I can't yell "Whitebrook" anymore and get the one I want, can I? You have a name, Private?" Garrack's deep voice was soft; softer than she thought was possible coming from the Captain.
"I suppose you can call me Miss Whitebrook… My name is Una…" She replied.
The orc snorted, "Need something unique I can call out and get just you. Una's a common name; hell I know Trolls named that. "Miss" might work, but I can't always tell when I'm looking at one of your girly males."
Una shrugged.
"Fine." Garrack grunted, "From here on out, you're Betsy. I yell that, you'd best jump."
Una frowned, "Betsy? How did you come up with that? That's not even close." She had visions of another tale from the internment camps or perhaps a former comrade at arms.
"That's the name of my favorite sow." The orc said simply and shrugged.
The young woman's jaw dropped and her voice rose as she spoke, "You're naming me after a pig?"
The orc shrugged once more, "Why not?"
Una glowered at him. The snickers from her mounted comrades around the wagon didn't help her frame of mind. She started trying to picture the animal he was talking about, but she was proving unsuccessful. She remembered a few kodos, ducks, chickens, goats, worgs, and a crotchety, old donkey…
"…You don't have any pigs." She said slowly.
Garrack inhaled sharply, snorted by accident, and then his poker face shattered into peals of laughter.
"By the Light, you're as bad as Dagan!" She shouted at the warrior, cuffing him on the shoulder several times. Her assault only made him laugh harder.
"Why do you think I approved their marriage?" He finally wheezed, his eyes still twinkling with mirth. His voice cracked as another laugh escaped, "He can bullshit with the best of them!"
Una couldn't help but laugh.
When everyone had calmed, Hakander moved his charger closer, "Speaking of Dagan and Basya… ready to become a great-father?"
"Don't. Down that path only lies pain." Garrack grumbled and spat off the side of the wagon, "I'm not old enough to be a great-father! My men have been giving me shit over that for months."
By that point, they reached the crest of the hill and then the ocean came into view followed quickly by Ratchet.
The neutral port city of Ratchet sprawled for nearly a mile down the coast. From her position next to Garrack, Una could easily spot ships from the Horde, Alliance, Goblin, and even a few pirate vessels. The skies buzzed with airships, Dwarven flying machines, gryphons, hippogryphs, and wind riders. Without even being there yet, the maze of buildings looked confusing.
Garrack guided the wagon down the road and into the mass chaos of the city. She was beset by odors ranging from appetizing foods to animal waste and more languages than she could safely name rose around her. Wagons leaden with a vast variety of cargo crowed the streets.
He pulled his kodo to a halt in front an inn slightly less seedy than the others. Una hopped into the back of the wagon to check on the two men once more as Anaru set off to locate a mage and Hakander set about securing rooms at the inn.
At last he returned with a human mage, who quickly opened a portal to Stormwind. Anaru and Private Thompson lifted Powell's stretcher and carried him through, followed by a sad looking Ludger.
After saying her goodbyes to Garrack, Una retrieved her saddlebags from Vesper and turned him over to an eager stable boy.
At this time of day, the inn was mostly empty. Hakander dropped her room key into her hand as he exited the building, so Una climbed the stairs and located her room. The space was cluttered, gaudy, and stifling, yet the bed felt comfortable enough when she sat on it. She stripped off her armor, wincing at the odor.
She found soap and a pitcher of water and freshened up as best she could. Satisfied she was about as presentable as she was going to get, she put on her standard issue fatigues and slipped her spare tabard over the top.
She made her way downstairs and picked a table in the corner. It felt wonderful to just sit and relax. Una had only been there a few minutes when a female Blood Elf walked in.
The woman was a statuesque beauty, clad in dust covered red and black armor of a Blood Knight. She stood half a head taller than Una; her bright red hair swept back in a high ponytail. An elegantly crafted sword hung from her waist warned that she was not one to be taken trivially. Her green eyes swept across the room and settled on Una.
The young paladin sucked in a nervous breath as she strode confidently across the room, barely looking at the tables she stepped around. Una rose as she drew near.
"Bal'a dash, malanore. Are you with Commander Whitebrook's Unit?" She asked crisply in Thalassian.
"Sinu a'manore." It took Una a moment to come up with the correct words. Growing up in Stormwind, Thalassian wasn't a language she usually ever had a need to speak. "Yes, I am…"
The woman's demeanor changed instantly. "Wonderful! Do you know where he is?"
Una nodded and said cautiously, "He chartered a mage to transport our wounded colleagues and himself to Stormwind, but I do not imagine he will be gone long."
The other woman pouted briefly and stared at her with a strange expression on her face. Una cringed under the weight of the Blood Knight's gaze. She felt as thought she were a mouse being examined by a cat. The lady tapped her crimson lips with an elegant finger, scrutinizing the shorter, brown haired paladin up and down.
"Are you Una?" She asked at last.
"Yes…" Una responded guardedly.
The woman gasped in delight and her disposition finished its transformation. "By the Sunwell, it is fantastic to see you again!" She was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Pleased to meet you?" Una didn't intend for the statement to have the questioning upturn, but she was slightly taken aback by the woman's approach. After the events of the previous days, she was feeling tired, wary, and less than social. While she would admit to being very green, strangers claiming familiarity was a common ploy.
"My apologies. I am Mistress Esmea Sunrunner of the Blood Knights of Silvermoon." She bowed and Una returned the gesture. "May I join you?"
Una nodded and Esmea took a seat beside her. The brown haired paladin fidgeted, still feeling mistrustful. Just then, Hakander entered the inn, a female Draenei was on his arm. He looked distinctly unhappy. He spotted them and made his way over.
"Greetings, Knight Sunrunner." He said crisply, touching the fingers of his right hand to his forehead.
Esmea rose and bowed her voice once again formal as she spoke in Common, "Well met, Vindicator Hakander."
Hakander didn't seem pleased to see her. However, she thought her parents might learn something from him; he was remaining reasonably pleasant. "I see you have already met our new medic."
"Yes, I have. We were just becoming acquainted." Esmea said amiably.
"We are honored to have her. If you will excuse me, I have matters I must attend to. It is good to see you." Hakander said stiffly, bowed to each of them and guided the Draenei woman up the stairs.
As he left, the red haired knight directed her attention back to Una and smiled. "You can relax. He is always bristly when he does this." Una suddenly had a hunch the female wasn't Hakander's wife or girlfriend.
A waiter arrived and took their orders.
"I'm sorry; it's been a rough mission." Una said when the Goblin left. She was trying not to act like her mother, but she really wasn't in the mood for head games. "I'm not feeling the most… hospitable… at the moment."
The Blood Knight smiled sympathetically at her and resumed speaking in Thalassian, "I understand the feeling all too well. I would be honored to listen if you have need to talk."
Una frowned, "I would not want to trouble you, Mistress Sunrunner."
"Please call me Esmea." She responded. After a moment, she added in a slightly melancholy voice, "I suppose you don't remember me."
"Remember you?" Una asked, even more suspicious.
"You are Ranger Ferran Whitebrook's daughter, correct? Sir Andris Whitebrook's – Knight of the Silver Hand – grand-daughter?"
Una nodded, perplexed.
"Perhaps you remember a colleague of his: Valdari Sunrunner."
That was a name Una recognized. He had been a member of Silvermoon's clergy and had died with her grandfather during the Scourge's invasion. "Yes, I am aware of him."
"He was my grandfather."
"Oh." Una had to think hard for several moments. The connection brought up a vague childhood memory of playing in Elwynn Forest with a willowy, slightly bossy elf girl with red hair. It took her more thinking to come up with a name, "They called you… Emmie? Or was it Mia?"
The Blood Elf woman's face brightened, "It was Emmie! Do you remember me now?"
"We used to play together." Una felt slightly more relaxed. It would take some doing to dig those details out of her past and she wasn't quite that important. A memory popped into her head and she blurted, "You failed to care for your hair, so your mother put a bowl over your head and cut it on the spot."
Esmea squeaked in surprise and put her hand over her mouth for a moment before giggling. They sat and reminisced for some time and Una found herself heartened. While she remained distrustful, each additional detail made her feel more reassured that this was genuine.
"So what brings you to Ratchet?" Una asked as their drinks arrived.
"Anaru sent an urgent request for assistance before he left Darnassus." Esmea paused as she took a sip of her sweet, alcoholic drink. "It appears we arrived too late."
Una nodded solemnly as Esmea reached under her tabard and withdrew a letter and envelop bearing the crest of the Argent Dawn and Anaru's blocky writing.
"To return to our original conversation; you would not be troubling me." She said. "Consider it a favor."
Una frowned a moment, wondering what favor that might be. Hesitantly at first, she started recounting the events of the mission, including the surprise attack and the horrible aftermath.
Esmea seemed especially troubled when Una finished. She steepled her fingers together and her eyes narrowed. "Was there perhaps anything different about the cultists involved in the ambush?"
"Their features appeared sunken; perhaps it was makeup. I fear I was preoccupied with saving a man's life."
The Blood Knight frowned deeply and then muttered to herself, "I will need to consult with Anaru to be sure."
Una tallied up the details of the mission once more in her head. Suddenly she remembered one key point of the debriefing, "By the Light… the messengers! We never went after them!" Una gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in alarm.
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Both Sides Now