Chapter 12

Arrival on the Ancient Sands

Guard Captain Sho'ro Vodreck stared out over Silithus via a handheld telescope. Amidst the endless acres of gritty sand and ancient ruins, he spotted what had made his stomach turn, and his eyes roll: another group of raving, psychotic zealots. This time, they rallied under the flag of someone named The Prophet, and judging by the loud chants that could be heard all the way across Silithus, they were very passionate in their belief. That was what made his stomach turn. What made his eyes roll was that they were dressed in silly brown robes, and wielded a makeshift armory of randomly assorted gardening tools. They were drawn from the poorer of the professions; easy bait for a crazed man with good oratory skills and the ability to convince and control.

Clearly, whoever this Prophet was, he did a damn good job.

"Corporal! Any news of the crazies?" Sho'ro called, directed at an imposing, broad-shouldered Tauren.

"The contingent we sent has not returned," started the Tauren, moving abreast of the Guard Captain. "I fear they may not, ever."

"Speak no such foolish words around me, Corporal."

"My apologies, Guard Captain. It is my duty to rationalize the situation."

"Still, warrior. Do not make it so depressing, at least."

"I shall try, my captain," finished the Tauren, walking off to greet a new arrival of supplies.

Like hell he will, thought Sho'ro.

He peered through the spyglass again. Still, a mass of the brown-robed imbeciles, and now they were gathered in a rag-tag circle of sorts. There was a figure at their center, raised upon a platform of some kind. Her skin was pale, and her features elegant. Blood Elf. She had an arm raised, and it appeared to be holding something, but he could not distinguish the object from such a distance, even with the spyglass. Then, as one, the crowd raised their arms in praise, and the echo of their booming chants met his ears a moment later.

---

"They said they were from where?"

"Everywhere and nowhere, corporal."

"Who did you speak with?"

"A Dwarf, sir."

"Figures," finished Corporal Jolorn Embergaze. The large Tauren clenched his fists in uncontrolled displeasure. He had never gotten along with the Dwarven kind, for obvious reasons. Even after joining the Cenarion Hold Guard in hopes of strengthening Alliance and Horde relations, there were times he ascertained that some things were never meant to be. Like he and a Dwarf as bossom buddies. Not going to happen.

He turned at the sound of raunchy laughter. Climbing the small rise to the watch point was a group of true democratic impossibility; Human, Dwarf, Troll, Orc, and Night Elf. They walked together in a tight-knit gaggle, laughing and talking cheerfully. The Dwarf, to Jolorn's disgust, made an unheard comment in the Troll's ear while pointing toward one of the Elven guard patrols that passed by. They sniggered audibly, earning a sneer from the Tauren. When the Night Elf woman in their group turned and smacked the Dwarf across the face, his sneer quickly inverted into a gleeful smirk.

"...next time you won't make a comment like that when it insults more than just the party under scrutiny," said the Night Elf.

"Ah, silly lass! 'Tis only a bit of innocent Dwarven humor!"

"Innocent and Dwarf have never been together in a single idea, no matter how far you go back into the scrolls of history," replied the Human.

"Ah, bugger off, the lot of you!" spat the Dwarf.

Jolorn shook his head in mild amusement. The Stone Children would never learn when it was time to admit defeat.

"'Lo, honorable Plainswalkah'!" spoke a voice. Jolorn was taken by surprise at the formal title. He was not surprised when he saw that the Troll had said it.

"Greetings, Darkspear," he replied, bowing deeply.

"Hah' you know meh' Darkspear?" questioned the Troll. A test.

"The tattoos upon your body, of battles won and opponents slain. All know of the Darkspear and their tradition, including the Plainswalkers."

The Troll nodded, satisfied.

"Pardon my cutting the small talk a bit short, but we are in a bit of a hurry," spoke the Human. The Tauren turned to look upon the pale man, cocking an eyebrow.

"Who are you, young one?"

"My name is Stefan Dreis. These are my friends, Guro'jintal of the Darkspear, Godreck of the Dwarves, Koramosh of the Orcs, and Iyana Moonbreeze of the Night Elves. We come here on very important business, and if my gut is telling me the right, as it usually does, you probably encountered our brown-robed friends already."

The Tauren was pleased with the Human's curt, straightforward approach. No doubt he was the same with the pair of maces at his belt.

"Indeed we have, Stefan. Are they your friends?"

"Nay, far from it. Allow me to explain."

---

Guard Captain Sho'ro watched as a small company of Cenarion Hold's armed forces gathered on the outskirts of the zealots' position. The parlay group that had been sent earlier was met by force, and two of the five soldiers had been killed. Now, he gathered more of their forces to repel the robed men. But their forces were stretched thin; between erasing the last of the Quiraji threat and maintaining peace between the factions in Silithus, Cenarion Hold could spare few souls to small troubles such as this. And that was why these minor threats were much worse than they seemed.

"Guard Captain!" said Corporal Embergaze. Trailing behind the large Tauren were five new arrivals. All of different races, Night Elf, Human, Troll, Dwarf, and Orc alike. It was a unique combination, indeed.

"Yes, corporal?"

"Guard Captain Sho'ro, may I present Stefan Dreis," started the Tauren, motioning to the Human, and the others in turn, "and his companions Gordreck, Iyana Moonbreeze, Koramosh, and Guro'jintal."

They exchanged formalities, nodding and smiling warmly. Sho'ro was glad to find no friction among them.

"They have told me much, captain. To make a long story short, they have been following the robed men we now prepare to quell, and would like to join our warriors at the frontline."

Sho'ro nodded, directing his attention to the Human known as Stefan. "Is there any reason I should allow you and your friends, total strangers, do such a thing? For all I know, you could be with them."

Stefan bobbed his head up and down. "All I can give you is the honorable word of another warrior, and pledge that on this day, I shall fight alongside Cenarion Hold to destroy a common foe. I seek revenge on their leader, and am fully prepared to take his blind followers down in my intentions."

The Human held out a hand to Sho'ro. The palm was worn and leathery, like a warrior's should be. He returned the gesture, grabbing Stefan's arm wrist to wrist.

"Your invitation to war is accepted, Stefan Dreis."