This year, I didn't watch much of the E3 coverage. Actually, come to think of it, I didn't "watch" any of it. I read a play-by-play of Nintendo's conference on Joystiq, haha. And from what I read, I have to say it was way better than last year's. I was glad not to own a Wii after last year, but now, I'm jealous. I love me some Mario platforming and now I'm missing out on two new ones. Oh well, I'm sure I'll catch Super Mario Galaxy 2 someday.

I already knew about the localization of Layton 2 (thank God!), but I was VERY shocked and surprised to learn about Golden Sun DS. Has anyone else seen the "on the floor" gameplay vid on Youtube? The graphics of the characters and enemies in-battle are phenomenal. Unless it's because of the blurriness or the brightness of the vid itself, I have to say that has to be the best DS graphics I've ever seen. Crisp PS2 equivalent, I'd say. What I love is that it seems like every other AAA DS title that comes around pushes that "best DS graphics ever" line further and further from where it first started, from where many in the beginning thought it wouldn't get far. As someone who LOVED the first two, I'm ecstatic. I didn't buy many original GBA games back in the day (most of my collection consists of remakes and ports), so that goes to show how fantastic they are. Yum yum.

Now, for all those people out there that are saying the Nintendo conference was awful, consider this. What makes an E3 press conference great? I think it's the announcements of new tech and new games that no one knew of prior. In that respect, I can't see how Nintendo bombed this year. Save for Spirit Tracks and Wii Sports Resort, what other games presented did the general public know about beforehand? None, if I recall correctly. So I'd say it was a great conference. Maybe people are just so used to putting down the Wii.

And that's all I've got to say at the moment. :)

I am approaching the time when I'll be able to start writing chapter 10 of Jag's story. The only reason I haven't already begun to write it (besides giving myself a break after writing the tremendously awesome chapter 9) is because I wanted to wait for my pal Andy (Mangoni) to catch his story up to the point in time where Jag's story currently is. There will be a point in my chapter 10 where Jag and Mangoni have a chat after being away from each other for some time. I thought it'd be nice to know what has happened to Mangoni in all that time, just in case I could add some more detail into my own chapter using info I acquired from his.

The following excerpt is from his most recent chapter. It's actually the tailend of it. We worked on the flashback portion together, in that Andy emailed me a rough draft of it, showing the basic gist of what he was going for, and then through the magic of Skype, we ran through it line by line, expanding and changing some words around as we saw fit. The beauty of it was that it never felt like I was taking over (cause I wasn't) and in truth, Andy was loving it because it always seemed that I knew exactly what he was going for and was able to come up with the right words to say what we wanted to say as best as we could both say it. I really think the whole process made us better writing buddies and friends. When it comes to this story, our combined story, we're almost one person at this point.

So do keep in mind that this comes from Andy's most recent chapter, not mine. But, we both worked on the flashback part because it has huge importance to both Mangoni's story and Jag's. It is important for you all, the readers of my story, to know the contents of this excerpt because it will make certain parts of ch10 and 11 more significant and better understood.

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It was late that night when I heard the sound of something rustling outside. I wasn't on edge. I knew that sound all too well by now. It was the sound of a wolf walking around outside. It had to be Zilus, my father.

"Well don't be stalking me outside my tent all night. Come in and tell me how terrible a job I'm doing." I said, irritated.

"I'm not here to argue or condescend." he said. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I know what happened. The physical wounds will heal, but it's not easy losing someone. "

I looked at him in confusion. Normally he wouldn't be this kind. "Are you saying you're not going to tell me how foolish it was to get so close to someone so quickly? That I should have been looking while I swam, instead of going full force and not paying attention? Or that I should have kept my weapons with me so I could have thrown one at the captain before he shot me?" I said, seeing how things could have gone differently in my head.

"It took some time, but I finally realized that it's not what you should have done that matters." he said. "It's what you did do, what you have done. And I have to say, you've done well for yourself. I'm proud of you, son. You're trying your best to get to your mother. But there's something you should know." He paused for a second before continuing. "You still believe your mother to be Undice. I told you this because I knew the trolls had made that name for her." He paused again. "Her real name is Juuni." Yet another pause, presumably to allow things to sink in for me. "Let me explain." he said.

* * *

Your mother was a very beautiful Draenei, and every man in the village had their eyes on her. Problem was she was supposed to marry Jagauric's father, Calaaris. They had been promised to each other since birth, but she had no romantic feelings for him. In truth, she had fallen for me more than she had him. In our younger years, Juuni and I would play together and we would talk to each other - completely disregarding time as it flew by - all while Calaaris was left to his self. We were practically inseparable, the very best of friends. One day, we found a place in the woods nearby, and we'd go there from time to time to just hang out or hide from all the other younglings. In the years when we were coming into adulthood, we would go to this secret place very often and just lay on the ground to look up through the gaps in the trees at the many bright stars and enjoy one another's company, and the confidentiality the place possessed.

"One day, I hope to leave this place. I don't want to marry Calaaris. They shouldn't make me." she said.

"I don't understand why it couldn't be me or why we can't choose our own mates, but I will promise you this. I will take you away when the time is right. I will marry you, Juuni. Of that you can be sure." I replied. Little did we know, Calaaris was in the thickets behind us, watching and listening.

He didn't say anything at first. He just watched and waited for three years as Juuni and I grew ever closer. But, things still went on as planned. They married the day they came of age. That didn't stop our meetings, however. Soon there wasn't a night when we didn't meet. One particular night, before I had sat down at her side, I could sense something was wrong. In the moonlight, I could see that Juuni was quivering and she had clearly been crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked her. She looked up at me and shook her head. In that moment, Calaaris came out of hiding.

"What have we here?" he shouted, desecrating the silence of the forest. "Are you making an attempt at a married woman?" He knew what had been going on.

"I won't lie to you. It's exactly what it looks like." I said in a calm tone. "She doesn't love you, Calaaris!"

"Do you take me for a fool, Zilus?! You don't think I look into her eyes every single morning and see the sadness? I know she doesn't love me, but I wasn't about to give up without giving it a try." Calaaris continued, "I didn't want to marry her, but it's what tradition dictated and we both weren't about to throw that out the window."

"So let me take her now." I suggested. "You can tell the rest of the Elders what you will. It doesn't matter to me."

"You can't do that." Juuni said suddenly in a low voice.

I stood there, baffled. "Why not, Peaceblossom?" Here was our chance and suddenly she didn't want to take it?

"Zilus... I'm with child." Juuni looked down and held her belly with both hands. "I cannot leave here while still carrying this baby." Total shock is what I felt at that moment. I was speechless.

"Look," Calaaris said, facing Juuni. "I know you don't love me, and I know you've tried like I have to still make this work, but it's been clear as day from the days when we were all but little children that you two are soulmates. Who am I to stand in the way of true destiny?" Then he turned to face me. "So here is what we will do. Juuni and I will remain married until our child is one year of age. At this time, I will consider our union null and void and you two will be able to run away together to live out your lives as you've surely been dreaming. The baby will stay with me, and I will raise him. Meanwhile, as you surely know, both of you from that day forward will be exiled from the village, never allowed to step foot back inside." In this moment, Juuni went to say something, but Calaaris raised his hand, already prepared to respond to her concern. "I will handle the Elders. No need for you to be concerned about that." He paused again. "I believe this is the only way we can be responsible about this."

"You always were a master organizer," Juuni said.

"Thank you, Calaaris." I told him with fierce sincerity. "I will treat her well and always keep her safe."

"I know you will," Calaaris said. "You always have." At that, I nodded my head down slightly in acknowledgement. This whole meeting spoke volumes about the kind of man that Calaaris was. "Well," he went to continue, "I guess that's it for now. Let us all head back into the village together and Zilus, you shall remain but a good, close friend of Juuni's until the time comes. No secret meetings. If you wish this to work, you mustn't let anyone catch on."

"I understand completely," I said, giving Juuni a brief smile. She meekly returned the expression.

"Very well," Calaaris nodded. "Let's go then."

And with that, Calaaris put his left arm around Juuni's shoulder and as I walked closely behind them, we made our way back into the village.

Fast forward a bit, and the time had arrived for Juuni to give birth to her child. It was a long and arduous labor, but in the end, she gave birth to a strong baby boy, whom they decided to name Jagauric. Calaaris and Juuni both could not be any happier.

The following year crept by painfully slow, but eventually, the time finally came for Juuni and me to leave and start our new life together. The three of us stood inside the closed doorway of Calaaris' home, baby Jagauric resting on his chest in a cloth sling wrapped over his left shoulder. "Well, I guess this is it." I said. "Got everything, Juuni?"

She nodded, then walked the few steps to stand right in front of Calaaris. She looked down at her one-year-old son, who just looked up and smiled, giggling and squirming around playfully in the sling. She bent her head down and gave Jagauric a deep, heartfelt kiss on the forehead before saying in a soft, reassuring tone, "Please don't ever think I've abandoned you, my son. You are a blessing, and I will always love you, with all my heart."

Juuni then turned away from Jag's bright, beady eyes to look up into Calaaris'. "Please don't hate me for leaving you like this. I know it must be hard to have to say goodbye to your wife and marriage."

"I could never hate you," Calaaris replied. "My only regret is that I could not find a way to make you happy. I just want you to be happy."

"And that's what I love about you, Cal." Juuni said, caressing the side of his face with her soft hand. They shared another moment together, just looking into each other's eyes, before Juuni turned around to come back to my side. "We should get going," she said with a tinge of anxiety. I knew she was worried about being seen. We could only hope the sun would not come up earlier than normal on this morning.

"Yes, it is time." I agreed. Junni and I turned to the door, and I opened it for us, letting her go through first. Standing about five feet from the door, we both turned around to see Calaaris standing in the doorway, still with Jagauric in tow. He nodded in my direction, a meaningful nod, and I returned the sentiment exactly. I would take care of Juuni and protect her for the rest of our days. With this exchange of a simple gesture, I was swearing an oath of sorts to Calaaris that I would follow through with all my promises.

Once I began to turn to face the path that led out of our village, several things happened all at once. Calaaris gently closed the door of his home behind us, Juuni and I began to walk down the path, and a single ray of sunlight appeared suddenly above the nearby mountains, crowning them and shedding a little bit of light onto the entire village. We had to get moving quickly, or else we'd have a lot of explaining to do.

As we were leaving the village, Juuni turned to me and said solemnly, "I hope one day the Fates allow me to gaze upon my son once again."

At first, I didn't know how to respond, so I just kept walking with my eyes focused on the path ahead of us. Then, without turning to face the woman whom I loved so dearly, I replied in-kind, "Me too."

And without either of us saying another word, we walked onward with the morning sun at our backs, never looking behind us and looking forward with the hope that true happiness lay just beyond the horizon.

Several days later, we happened upon a charming, little village nestled by a forest. Juuni thought it a wonderful place to start our new life together, and so we settled down there, getting married soon after our arrival. Four years later, you were born.

* * *

"Everything else I've told you about her is true." Zilus began to say in conclusion. "She was taken by the Erador when you were two, and now that you know you can get on the right track. You know that Stormwind is where she was. If you still hold to hope, I recommend asking around there."
I sat there not certain what to say. He apparently caught on when he continued speaking. "I must be on my way. I have places to go and people to see. Be careful, son, and don't lose hope." With that, he vanished into thin air, leaving me completely dazed and confused.

* * *

Minutes later, they were running out the main entrance of Jintha'alor. They encountered no additional soldiers, mutants, or guards of any kind and could not be more thankful to be leaving the still-burning Jintha'alor fast in their wake. Their pace remained consistently brisk, even now in the open green field.
"We should've asked Day to come along." Voudka regretted. "That way, he could have ported Marckus and Jag directly to the city. Jag would already be seeing a medic."
Jesiach responded. "Stop it, Voudka. There's no point in having such regrets. It's just about stamina at this point, and we each happen to have an awful lot of it."
"And besides," added Marckus, "they're bound to have a medic over at Aerie Peak."
"And what if they don't?" Voudka wondered.
"And if they don't," Jesiach was saying over Voudka, practically having anticipated Voudka's question. He was the only one speaking now. "If they don't, then we'll do the best damn job we can do until we get Jag to Ironforge. Between paladin healing, homemade potions, and hand-woven cloth bandages, we should definitely be able to keep him alive until a licensed medic can see him. We can do it! We have to."
Voudka was stunned. "Malv..."
"Yes?" Jesiach replied.
"What's happened to you?" she asked.
"I...I don't know." Jesiach took a moment to gather his thoughts, though they never stopped jogging. "I guess it was those first moments of seeing Jag all beat up in the hut. I actually found it to be quite...overwhelming. And I guess I realized how, like with the rest of you, his friendship has come to mean a lot to me. He's really become one of us in recent months." Voudka didn't respond, and after a few seconds Jesiach continued. "I know it's not the same as it must have been when I was felled and you all had to mourn my 'death'. But this is the closest I've ever been to having to deal with a friend suffering serious to mortal wounds... I didn't expect it to hit me so hard."
"Aww." Voudka said. "Malv's showing his human side again."
Jesiach turned back to glare at Voudka, as if to say some real zinger of a retort, but instead he said nothing. He just glared at her. She got the message. "He's changing," Voudka thought, "but he has yet to change that much."
In the silence that had suddenly pervaded the group, Koto spoke suddenly. "Ummm, guys? Wow, this is getting really heavy...uhh, I just wanted to make it known that in case we can't get transportation right away from Aerie Peak to Ironforge, I do have more vials of the sleep potion. If we happen to need them."
"Yeh know, I was just thinkin' about that." said Serac from the rear. "And I was also thinkin'...we need teh get in touch with Jag's brother. Mangoni. He deserves teh know and I know he would want to come 'n visit Jag."
"You're absolutely right," Marckus agreed. "I suppose I could mail a letter express to the Guild Hall for Mangoni explaining the last month's events and telling him where we all are. Once we figure out where we'll be staying after seeing the medic in Ironforge, that is. After all, we're all going to stay by Jag's side while he recuperates in Ironforge, right?"
This was met with resounding affirmatives. "As far as I know, he doesn't have any other family besides Mangoni." said Serac.
"How sad," replied Koto. "Then we'll be his family."
"I think we already kindeh were," Serac recalled. "But yes, we'll stay by his side until he can stand on his own feet again."
"Which is why," Marckus resumed, "a letter for Mangoni needs to be sent to the Hall in our stead. We won't be going back there for at least a little while. Oh! And also, we should mail in addition a notice to the entire guild - in the case that the letter does not find Mangoni at the Hall - that should they come across Mangoni during their imminent travels in Azeroth, they can give him the letter's message in person, so he can make his way to us from wherever. Yes, that should cover all the bases."
"Indeed it does," noticed Serac. "That sounds like a solid plan to me, Marckus."
"Mmhmm," agreed the girls.
There was a lengthy pause before anyone spoke again. This time, it was Voudka. "Ugh, this chest is starting to get real heavy. We're almost back to the Peak, right?"
Jesiach was the one to reply. "I don't know about that, but...while we're on the subject of chests... Voudka, when are you going to retrieve your firework launcher from that 'invisible' chest out in the middle of the field?"
"Oh, I don't know." Voudka answered. "I suppose I could run out there later today. But really? After the day we've all had? I'd much rather just leave it out there for the time being. We all could use some rest right now, but we need to get Jag settled here and then we have to get settled in Ironforge and then we may end up transporting him somewhere else for his recovery period...Quite frankly, Malv, my launcher, while admittedly very awesome, is definitely not a major priority of mine at the moment."
Jesiach grinned. "But, what about the risks involved with leaving the chest out there?"
"Risks? What risks?" asked Voudka. She could just tell that this was going to be interesting.
"Well," Jesiach began to answer. "We wouldn't want any wolves or deer to run right into it. Or for any low-flying gryphons to break any fragile paw bones on it. Or for any wild, crazy Moonkin to fall over themselves on it. Or for any -"
"Alright! I -"
Voudka went to respond, but Jesiach just kept going. "Or what if..." Jesiach paused as though thinking real hard about the possibilities. "What if the trolls manage to find the chest - knowing them, one of them will walk right into it - and then manage to open it? What then?"
Voudka had had enough. "Oh, for the love of the Naaru!" she yelled, loud enough so that half the Hinterlands probably heard her. "I get your point! Fine! I'll go out with Koto to get it later, after we tend to Jag a bit and I take a short nap. Is that okay? Do I have the esteemed Malv's permission to take a short nap?"
"Why of course you do, Voud." said Jesiach. "In fact, since you're not a healer or absolutely necessary on bandage duty, why don't you go ahead and take your nap right now."
"Right now!?" shouted Voudka. "Right now. You want me to just drop this chest on the ground right where I stand and doze off? Why in Azeroth would I do that??"
"Because we're here," said Jesiach, calmly, as he stopped jogging and turned to face the rest of the group. He looked as though he was trying his very hardest not to burst out into a laughing fit. Instead, after a second or two, he went to grab some bandages out from his biggest backpack.
"So we are," replied Voudka, who had finally stopped trying to bore holes through Jesiach's skull with her rage and instead looked straight ahead and above her to spot the giant stone eagle head which served as the landmark feature of Aerie Peak. Upon seeing this, she promptly dropped the gear chest, as did Kotonoha, with an immense sigh of relief. Then, with a wide smile directed right at Jesiach, she repeated herself. "So we are."

A mere two minutes later, Kotonoha had told the party her plan, they'd approved it, and everyone was in position. Everyone except Koto had stayed back a bit and was hiding behind a wall just before the hut. Meanwhile, Koto was stealthily making her way down the path to the lone guarded hut that Serac had spotted as where Jag and/or Jaina was potentially being kept. No one else was around. It was actually kind of peaceful, with the only audible sound being the chirping birds' sweet melody. And it was really all they could hope for that they'd find at least one of their captured friends in this hut.
As she was coming up on the hut in question, she took a deep, slow breath and quietly exhaled. This was the hardest part of the entire plan. Believing she was ready, she began creeping closer towards the hut (though still staying a comfortable distance away from the guard) until she had a good look at what, if anything, was inside.
What she saw inside nearly made her burst out with loud, ecstatic cheers...which would have been a very, very bad thing indeed. It was Jag! Jag was in the hut! He was sitting upright with a peaceful smile on his face...and looking rather good considering he'd been in captivity for as long as he was. And no trolls! No hiding trolls! It was just the one! This was great!
Koto wanted so badly to just call out to the rest of the party and tell them the good news, but that would have been a very unwise thing to do, even with just one troll standing guard here. She'd learned her lesson out in the field earlier. The initial element of surprise is key. So she kept all her excitement to herself (practically imploding in the process) and instead, imitated the song of the Teldrassil Longswallow. The troll guard thought nothing of it, thinking it was just another bird, like all the others, doing what all birds in the Hinterlands do. But for the rest of the party, who knew that Koto's mother was a druid who had taught her a few bird calls during her childhood, it was the very distinct, very exciting signal that it in fact was just the lone troll and that Jag was inside the hut! They didn't budge from their hiding spot, but they did all smile in celebration. They'd found Jag!
Upon completing the short avian melody, she prepared for the second part of her plan. She moved in close behind the young guard and placed her dagger right by the side of his neck, just close enough so that it was as close to his neck as it could be without the sharp edge actually touching his skin. Then, with a grin only visible to herself, she giggled. Out loud. The troll guard immediately snapped his whole body around to find out where the sudden giggling came from, and in the process, slit his own throat on her dagger's sharpened blade. And just like that, the young, promising troll named Kalwen fell to the dirt ground, dead. Kalwen had uttered not so much as a solitary gasp as he collapsed. And in the meantime, Koto had suddenly appeared at the hut's opening.

When Jag first heard the bubbly giggling, he thought it was all in his head, a delusion triggered by all the pain he was experiencing by sitting up instead of laying still. But then his guard's throat mysteriously slit itself when he'd turned around and he knew he didn't imagine that. The guard actually bled, collapsed, and ceased breathing. The guard was dead. Jag was shocked and confused and chose to remain as he was, practically still in an upright sitting position. He didn't have any clue what was going on...unless...nooooooo...was it? Could it be?
And there was Kotonoha, blocking Jag's view of the outside where the guard once did. "HaHA!" Jag shouted delightfully. It hurt quite a bit to shout, but Jag wanted to look strong for his friends. He wanted to be strong for his friends. "I thought it was you! Praise the Naaru!"
Kotonoha smiled down at Jag and laughed joyfully. Then she turned to face the direction where the others had been hiding, and she repeated the Longswallow's song for a second time, this time signaling it was okay to come over to the hut. Within seconds, everyone was standing in the opening, beaming from ear to ear, person to person.
Jag was smiling back, for a couple of reasons. Sure, he was happy that his friends were here and he could be sure of his safety, but more than that, he was glad that they were all there standing in the opening, because by doing so, they were practically blocking out all the light from coming into the hut and he knew that as a result his friends weren't able to see how he really looked and wouldn't be able to read on his face how he really felt.
"Okay, okay" Jesiach chimed into the happy smiles and laughter. "We've got to get a move on here, or else we're sure to have company."
"Right." Marckus said as he knelt down to enter the tent. "Jag, do you have any idea where we might be able to find your wi-" He had been talking to the ground until he was all the way into the hut. It was as he flipped himself off his knees that he finally got a good look at Jag. His face, his beaten body, how thin he looked, everything. Marck's voice turned serious. "Jesiach, Voudka, get in here. Serac and Koto, keep guard out there."
As Voudka crept her way into the hut to make it a comfy quartet within the warm hut, Marckus asked, "Koto, how could you have missed th-" He stopped speaking and rolled back his head along his shoulderbones as he let out a deep sigh. "Of course. The same way I did."
"How'd I miss what?" Koto asked. "What'd I miss? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, dear." Jesiach replied. "Please just do as Marckus asked, okay?" He paused for a second, then added, "You'll see soon enough."
"Uh-" Koto started. "Okay." She turned back around to watch the path from which they'd come and while concerned and worried, knew she had to do as she was told. Marck, Voud, and Jesiach, while friends, were High Elders above all else.
Meanwhile, Jesiach turned back around to face Jag. He gazed up and down the battered, bruised body and could feel the cold rage burning within himself. Yeah, he and Jag weren't super close "bunk buddies" or anything like that, but he did like Jagauric quite a bit and his like for him grew daily. Seeing the number the trolls had done on Jag was almost too much to take. There were not many experiences Jesiach could think of that could relate to what Jag must have endured. "This is above and beyond. Any troll we come across on the way out is as good as skewered."
"I hear that!" the four of them heard come from outside. Serac had gotten really good at skewering trolls during that particular battle.
Voudka began to smile and chuckle, just as a reflex to Serac's unintentional moments of comedy, but it didn't get far this time. Ever since she'd entered the hut and first gazed at Jag's present state, she was stunned. She was still stunned. "Jag," she began to say, though it was hard for the words she was thinking to come out. The one so far had come out real shaky. "Jag?" she repeated, a bit stronger. He turned slightly to look at her. She took this as a sign that he was listening to what she had to say. "Where's Jaina?"
It was the last question Jag wanted to be asked, but it was the first question he knew they would ask. Almost immediately, Jag's outward façade of strength and peppiness fell away and in its place, there was the real Jag. The Jag in extreme pain everywhere. In his muscles, in his bones, all over his face, and especially in his heart. With those two words, it all came back. Jag could no longer sit up. The pain was too intense. He fell back, as though his muscles had all just given out (they had...Jag just let go in order to fall). Marckus stretched out his right arm to catch him mid-fall and guide him down the rest of the way. Once Jag was laying down completely, there was complete silence for at least half a minute. Jag took this time to try to relax and get a regular breathing pattern going after all the sharp, striking pain had hit. Once the pain had predominantly gone away, he turned to face the three plate-clad Elders and said, in a simple, calm, almost nonchalant way, "Jaina's dead. They killed her. She's gone." As he finished speaking, a few tears burst from his eyes, sliding hastily down onto the dry dirt.
"Aw, that is it!" Jesiach yelled, not giving a damn who heard him. Then, snapping to look at Marck and Voud, he said with great conviction, "We are getting him out of here. Right now! Marck, help me lift him." Marckus did not hesitate to comply. Carefully, very carefully, the two men picked him up by his arms and legs and crept out of the hut on their knees. Jag was in agony the entire time. When the bright sun shone onto his face, he squinted and his face burst into flameless fire. Voudka followed them out of the hut, and as she got back on her feet, Koto and Serac got their first look at the "real" Jag. Immediately, Koto began to sob silently. Serac just looked at his friend and kept a calm expression on his face. He had no words, and while his face read otherwise, he was heartbroken seeing his friend in the shape he was in. Completely heartbroken.
"So how do yeh suppose we get him out of here?" Serac asked, still not outwardly displaying the emotional anguish he felt inside. "Yeh can't really expect to cart him away like yeh are right now."
Marckus turned to respond. "Of course not, Serac. I'll carry him over my shoulder. That way, Jesiach can have his revenge on any passers-by and I'll still have a free hand for stunning. Besides, I'm the only one besides Jesiach who can actually carry him in the first place."
"No one's disagreeing with you," Voudka said. "There's no need to defend yourself." She paused a moment. "So it's settled. If only there was something we could do about the pain."
"Oh!" Koto exclaimed suddenly, from out of her crying. She began digging through her pack. The sound of many vials clinking together was prevalent. "Here we are." she continued as she pulled out a vial of a teal-colored liquid.
"Koto," Voudka began to say, "I think Jag needs more than just a restorative at the moment. From the looks of it, he's going to be in excruciating pain with every step. I'm afraid that just won't be enough."
"Which is exactly why I brought this along." Koto replied, waving the vial a little. "Jag'll be just fine." Realizing she was talking about Jag in the third person, she walked over so she could speak directly to him and said, "You'll be just fine. This is a Dreamless Sleep Potion. It will restore some of your strength and magical energy, all while under a deep sleep. If it works as it should, you won't wake up until we're back in Ironforge."
"That sounds wonderful," Jag exhaled, consciously dreaming of what such sleep would feel like.
"Yes, that does, Koto." Voudka apologized. "I'm sorry for doubting you."
"No worries." Koto said. "Let's just get him, and us, out of here ASAP, k?"
"Indeed," answered Jesiach. "Marckus, kneel down so we can get this goin', alright?" Marckus nodded, and the two of them gently placed Jag down on the ground. Marckus crouched down and Jesiach grabbed Jag all by himself and carried him the small distance over to Marckus. At this point, Koto walked over and handed Jesiach the potion to give to Jag. Jag merely opened his mouth, painfully of course, as Jesiach let the potion slide down. Then, he handed Koto the empty vial and bent Jag over Marckus' shoulder so that Marck could hug Jag's legs with his right hand, while the rest of Jag hung over Marck's shoulder. Jag tried to give off the impression that this didn't hurt much, but it was agony and there was no concealing it for long. He moaned and struggled for breath during the entire process.
"And he won't have to worry about all the discomfort of blood going to his head either," Koto added once Jag was secure in his position for transportation.
"Well that's good," Jag coughed. "I hadn't even thought of that." He started to cough again, trying to breathe while upside-down, in great pain, and with blood rushing to his head. But just then, he felt a wave of calm rush over his entire body. As soon as that wave had subsided, another came along. "Whoa," Jag breathed. "I think that potion's kickin' in, guys."
"That's great," said Voudka. "I guess we can get going then."
Everyone else nodded in agreement. They began to walk away from the hut, ready to leave it behind forever, but Jag suddenly shouted, "Wait!" He sounded drunk, but everyone knew it was merely Jag fighting sudden, extreme fatigue brought on by the potent potion. Marckus stopped moving, as did everyone else, and all those not carrying a Draenei over their shoulder turned to look at the one Draenei who was hanging over a shoulder.
Serac was the first to speak up. "What is it, Jag?"
"My gear," answered a very sleepy Jag. "They took all my gear."
Everyone looked at each other. Marckus then spoke without turning around. "Well we can't very well leave it behind."
Slightly frustrated but understanding completely how important it was to and for Jag to get his gear back, Jesiach said, "Yeah...so I guess we start looking."
"Uh, that won't be necessary, guys!" Koto said. "It's all right here." She was standing behind the hut where Jag had been found, at the foot of a rather large unlocked chest. It looked as though she'd found long-lost treasure, the way the chest lay open and the mail gear and metallic weapons reflected the sunlight.
"How'd you know...?" Voudka asked.
"Jag's wearing a loincloth, Voudka." Koto responded. "He was bound to remember his gear, if no one else did."
"No one said trolls were that smart." Jesiach joked, reflecting on the location of the chest.
"Well they can sure pack a punch when they really want to." Voudka said. "And at any rate, when did you become so observant? And so resourceful?"
Kotonoha merely shrugged. "I don't know, but I really like it. I like being helpful."
"Well, even with the rough start, you've been invaluable today, Koto." said Voudka. "Keep it up and you will be a High Elder one day." She winked at Koto as she continued to speak. "I guess you and I will carry the chest. Serac, you can defend our backs."
"Aye," Serac acknowledged. He would take this responsibility very seriously, as it might very well be his actions from this point forward that would ensure the party's escape from the fortress.
All of a sudden, Jag stirred. "Are we there yet?" he mumbled. Koto began to crack up. Serac chuckled a little.
"No, darlin'. The ship just left from the harbor." Serac said, without hesitation.
"Aww.....okay..." Jag muttered in a voice that sounded as though he was very much asleep.
Marckus turned around to face the rest of the group. "Geez, Koto. That stuff is strong."
"Yeah, but it's working like a charm!" Koto replied cheerily.
As Marckus turned back around to face the way they would begin heading out, everyone could hear Jag mumble a very drowsy, kiddie-sounding "Weeeeeee!" Koto and Serac began to really crack up this time. Voudka and Jesiach even began to chuckle.
"Oh my goodness." Marckus said, facepalming himself with his free hand as he shook his head. "He thinks I'm a human Ribbon Pole." This sentiment sent the whole group into a laughing riot. Suddenly though, an explosion occurred on one of the higher tiers of the fortress. Marckus reacted. "Okay, I don't know what that was, but I'll take it as our cue to snap out of it and get ourselves far away from this place."
A round of synonymous remarks akin to "yeah, let's go" was said by everyone else, and they were on their way. Forget walking, or walking briskly for that matter. Everyone broke into a hastened jog. Everyone, including Marckus, now with a fast-asleep Jag over his shoulder, and Voud and Koto, each holding a side handle of the heavy armor-filled chest, was booking it as best they could while still staying close to the rest of the group. This was the final phase. After weeks of what must have been endless torture and abuse, Jag was mere minutes away from total freedom.

* * *

* * *

The best case scenario for the second phase of the rescue mission would have been for the chaos generated by the rockets' bombardment to be enough to keep the residential areas completely unpatrolled by soldiers while they looked for, found, and escorted Jag and Jaina out of the fortress. Unfortunately, this is not how reality now presented itself. Mere seconds after passing through the entrance, the party encountered their first group of troll soldiers, which had spotted them coming up the path and were advancing to intercept.
Luckily, however, they had anticipated not experiencing the best case scenario and had a course of action laid out for just such circumstances. Marckus ran out in front of the party and, raising his hand up toward the sky, summoned Hammers of the Righteous onto three of the soldiers. Stunned in place, Serac and Jesiach then ran up and made quick work of the incapacitated trolls. Meanwhile, Koto and Voud took the flanks and took care of the remaining footmen. Their path clear once again, the party pressed on.
As they went on, it truly seemed as though the chaos had been short-lived, much to Voudka's disappointment. She was really hoping the trolls wouldn't pull themselves back together so quickly...but then again, maybe they were just meaning to give off the impression that they had. Regardless, there were obvious defense stations set up throughout the residential areas, and they would have to fight their way through as many as necessary before they found Jag and Jaina.
As they finished running up a staircase into the next level of the fortress, the party spotted their second guarding post. Koto immediately went into stealthed hiding, but not before giving the rest of the group a confident wink. As she crept cautiously over to the trolls, the rest of the group snuck back behind the staircase wall, in an effort not to reveal their presence...just yet. Koto continued making her way to the trolls, making sure not to make a sound. Normally, anyone would be hard-pressed to find Koto in a state of silence, but with her good friend Jag in danger and the party in general so close to reclaiming him, her mind was entirely focused on the present, on her job right at this moment, and it so happened that bubbliness and glomping were not a part of her job here. Playful taunting, on the other hand, was never explicitly excluded. So as she tip-toed behind the group of oblivious trolls, she uttered in a sly, teasing tone, "You can't see me..." The trolls immediately turned around to find the source of the eerie, female voice that just spoke from what sounded like right behind them, but it would have made no difference even if they had found Koto. She was too fast and already making her move. While still stealthed, she Sapped the tallest, ugliest looking troll of the lot (hoping it was the leader), rendering him immobile and debilitated. Seeing their leader dazed and wobbling with his head hung down (haHA! She guessed right!), they began swinging their swords and axes wildly. But again, Koto was too fast. She was already sneaking around to stand "in front of them", between them and the staircase. Holding in a playful chuckle, she then ran past each of the trolls, slashing her daggers through each soldier's ankles. Immediately, the trolls collapsed to the ground in incredible pain as she suddenly reappeared behind them. As they each in turn saw the night elf standing before them, they began to yell in outrage. They would have gone after her, but the pain in their bleeding ankles was so intense that all they could do was, well, nothing. They couldn't get up. Pleased with her execution, she whistled a brief melody and hearing it, the rest of the party walked out from behind the wall. Koto ran over to rejoin them, and as Voudka caught a glimpse of what her rogue friend had done, she said proudly with a big smile on her face, "Looks like someone might make a good High Elder yet!" Koto displayed a beaming smile as the group traveled deeper into the fortress.
They had made it a decent amount further into the fortress before they came across their next group of trolls. This time was different, however. This time, the soldiers were not scrawny footmen, but huge, hulking, monstrously muscular trolls...and they were running straight towards the party to apprehend. "That is not natural." stated Serac.
"Doesn't matter whether it is or isn't," Jesiach responded coolly. "They're coming this way!" The five of them spread out in a row to take up the entire width of the path and got into their respective battle stances. Jesiach suddenly shouted, looking to either side, "Serac! Marckus! Koto! SGS! Voudka, cover Marck!" Everyone knew what that meant, so they nodded in acknowledgement as Marckus and Koto ran about seven yards out ahead of the rest of the group. Koto blinked out of sight while Marckus stood in plain sight, clearly ready to do his part. As the troll mutants stampeded sluggily towards them, Marckus began to raise his hand towards the sky, in the same way he had earlier. When the group of stomping trolls had come close enough, Marck summoned a Hammer of Justice down on one of them, stunning the hulk immediately. Then, Marck stepped away. Once Jesiach had a clear view of the newly stunned troll, he used a Death Grip on him, grabbing him with what looked like a purple lightning bolt and launching him into the air and down towards where he and Serac were standing. Serac stood ready about a few feet in front of Jesiach, with his sword held outstretched in front of him with both hands. He watched as the mutant grew closer and closer, looking ever more menacing with each millisecond.
He was ready. He knew what he had to do. Once the mutant got within range, he'd swing his sword across the mutant's body, surely killing him. The troll wouldn't know what hit him, since he'd really just be coming out of the stun as he neared Jesiach and Serac. This was the plan, how the second "S" in SGS had been defined when the strategy had first been devised...but Serac was no longer feeling confident with his timing, not when this troll that was clearly at least three times as big and tall as him was about to come down right on top of him. Would he be able to pull it off?
"Maybe I won't have to..." Serac thought to himself, as he kept his sword out in front of him. Maybe he could redefine that second S... And so Serac stayed put, not changing his stance by even a millimeter. Jesiach noticed this and quickly grew concerned, but there was nothing he could do about it. The mutant was fast approaching and even stopping the Grip at this moment wouldn't stop the mutant from flying right into the two of them through its sheer momentum, knocking the two of them to the floor and assuredly, putting them in a position to get beaten helplessly by a physically recovered mutant troll. He was about to negate the Grip and try to pull the two of them out of the way when suddenly he heard the gasping and gurgling sounds of a dying troll. He opened his apparently half-squinted eyes to see the mutant laying on top of Serac's blade, the sharp point of which was poking out of the mutant's back.
"Impalement, eh?" Jesiach questioned with a wide grin.
Serac turned just his now blood-speckled head around to catch the expression of surprise and amusement on Jesiach's face. "I prehfer teh use the word 'skewered' mahself. It'll make fer better storytellin' in the taverns."
"Right." Jesiach said. "Well, we've still got some mutants to 'skewer', so let's get back to it, alright?"
Serac simply nodded, then turned around to realize he still had a mutant troll, now a dead mutant troll, laying on his blade. With speed that could only be matched elsewhere in the party by Kotonoha only when she's sprinting, Serac dropped his sword to the ground, dead troll included, and with his right foot firmly planted on the dead troll's chest, he pulled the blade out of the troll's mortal wound. He was now ready for another airborne mutant.
While this exchange was going on, Voudka was busy fending off a second mutant that had come after Marckus after he'd stunned the first one. She fought valiantly, dual wielding with a sword and axe with superb agility and efficiency. She looked like she was dancing a warrior's dance, evading and striking with precision timing. The dance, while a thing of beauty, was fleeting, as she was able to quickly defeat the mutant in this one-on-one combat duel. It was just in time to see another mutant suddenly stop in place, right where she and Marckus had last seen Kotonoha. With the mutant now standing dazed in place, Koto reappeared directly in front of him and waved with a big smile and her eyes closed. A second later, Jesiach yanked the troll up over Koto with another Death Grip, sending him into Serac's awaiting blade.
Another four dead mutant trolls later, the party was alone and ready to move on once again. "You know, as fun as this is," Marckus said, "we can't keep fighting off these soldiers forever."
Jesiach agreed. "You're right. Let's hope we can find Jagauric and Jaina soon before we actually do get worn out." With that, he and the rest of the group began to resume walking down the path in the direction they had been heading prior to the most recent attack. Everyone except Serac, that is. He was just standing still. He hadn't moved one step. And he was looking straight ahead, in the opposite direction.
"Is something wrong, Serac?" Voudka inquired.
"Ummm," Serac responded somewhat unsurely. "No...not exactly. Well...look. Do yeh see that lone hut with the one lone scrawny troll standin' outside?" He pointed straight ahead so Voud could follow it down to where he was speaking of. "Do yeh think that's worth checkin' out?"
"It's certainly worth checking out, Serac." she answered with more and more excitement in her voice as she spoke each new word. "Let's go."
She and Serac were about to start running right for the hut, thinking the other three would follow right behind, but they heard Marckus say, "Wait up! We need a plan."
Always the cautious leader.
"Bet Marckus." Serac went to argue. "There's just one stoop-"
Marckus interrupted him. "Yes, Serac. There's just one stupid troll standing outside. And what if the whole thing is a trap and there are five or so other footmen lying in wait inside the hut? Or two more of those blasted mutant abominations? What then?"
Serac wanted to respond to that, but he couldn't find any words to do so. Marckus, as always, was being very sagacious. "You're right," Voudka said. "We need a plan."
There were a few seconds of total silence before Koto spoke up. "I have a plan. But I'm going to need your help if it goes terribly wrong."

"YAYYYY!" Koto exclaimed ecstatically. Everyone turned to glare at her again. "I mean, yayyy!" she said in a much quieter, though still extremely enthusiastic manner.
"Oh, Koto." said Marckus, "What are we going to do with you?"
"Nothing right now," Jesiach replied. "Let's get ready, people." Jesiach looked down at Voudka, who was still kneeling on her left knee. "All set?" he inquired.
"Mmhmm," Voudka answered with a determined smile. Marckus and Jesiach walked over and picked the launcher up off the ground, placing it as comfortably as they could onto Voudka's right shoulder. Voudka gave a nod so everyone would know she was all set.
"Alright everybody, this is it." Marckus stated. He then grabbed a firework rocket from the big pile laying nearby on the ground and loaded it into the barrel. "Take it away, Voudka."
Voudka took a deep breath, which she exhaled slowly. Then she said, "Okay...let's see how far this baby can shoot."
She fired the launcher. It let out a thunderous BOOM that made the ground beneath their feet rumble and shattered the silence that they'd been trying so hard to maintain. Not to mention, the rocket itself let out a deafening shriek as it shot towards the fortress. Voudka was sure they could hear all of this over at Aerie Peak, but they'd been pre-emptively informed of the endeavor (and told explicitly several times that their assistance would not be necessary, though the offer was appreciated), so all was well. Furthermore, the recoil was somewhat substantial, but they'd anticipated that and so Serac stood directly behind Voudka so that he could help keep her upright if the jerk back was ever too much after a launch.
They continued to watch the firework shoot farther and farther into the higher levels of Jintha'alor, until they both saw and heard the explosion upon impact. With this explosion came an array of outward spreading red and gold sparkles. It could very well have been the start of a Lunar Festival celebration right in the heart of Jintha'alor. But it reality, it was anything but.
Marckus bent down to grab another rocket and loaded it into the launcher. No sooner did Voudka yell out a preliminary "Clear!" did the rocket burst out of the business end of the launcher and rush towards the fortress, its trajectory a little to the right of the first rocket's. When they saw the second explosion, Voudka said, "And that's the end of the Chiefs' Quarters." She chuckled a little bit before continuing, "You know? I'm not usually one for wanton destruction, but this is too much fun."
"Stay focused, Voudka." Jesiach advised.
"Of course, Malv." Voudka assured. "But you gotta admit this does have quite the entertaining element to it."
"Of course." Jesiach replied, with a fleeting hint of glee in his tone. "But all the same, stay focused. This isn't target practice in the Tanarian desert. We're here doing this for a reason."
"Like I don't know that!" Voudka retorted as a third rocket, loaded by Marckus, shrieked its way towards the soldiers' barracks. "I'm all good here, Malv! Just let me do my job."
"Very well," Jesiach said in a lowly tone as he loaded the launcher once more. "Carry on."
Voudka let out a deep sigh as she aimed with the scope and fired the fourth rocket of the day. Since coming back as a Death Knight, Malv was certainly not the same Malv that existed before. Still, everyone had already grown accustomed to the new Malv...and Voudka couldn't help but feel like...well, like she was developing something almost like romantic feelings for the guy. The new guy. As bizarre as that sounds. She knew he just wanted everything to go smoothly - it wasn't that he didn't trust her ability to wield her launcher. So she shrugged off his...whatever it was (doubts? anxiety? care and concern?), and kept her mind on the present task. Blowing up the upper levels of Jintha'alor.
This phase of the plan was going rather smoothly. With each successful rocket strike, the fortress was thrown further into chaos. With the chiefs and military personnel either dead or in disarray, the entire fortress was entirely too preoccupied to send a band of soldiers out into the field to confront Voudka and gang. The surviving soldiers were busy escorting any surviving chiefs to safety, as well as to help all those in the residential sectors (the lower levels) do the same.
With each successful rocket strike, a primary target was hit, as well as several surrounding secondary targets as well. Whereas fireworks are normally shot upward into the sky and the colorful sparks fade out before hitting the ground, here the sparks were actually setting nearby huts and such ablaze. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere was unreachable for the launcher.
"Make sure yeh don't hit everything, Voudka!" Serac shouted from behind Voudka. "Jag 'n Jaina er somewhere in there."
"Don't you think I know that?" Voudka replied while Marckus loaded another firework into the launcher. "The plan, if you recall, is to aim for the upper levels. Draw the population up or away from the residential zones where we think they might be holding Jag and Jaina." she continued, sounding like she was reciting a mantra she'd known by heart for years. She fired the newly loaded rocket and watched as it shot a little to the left of the trajectory she'd intended for it to travel. "I can't help it if the fireworks have plans of their own!" she shouted over the increasingly distant-sounding shriek.
"Boy, everyone's so anxious and tense about this." she thought. "Is there something wrong with me since I'm not?" This line of thinking began to distract her away from the focus Jesiach had practically demanded of her just minutes earlier, but then she turned and saw Kotonoha standing southeast of her own position, jumping up and down excitedly at the site of the fantastically destructive fireworks display that she was performing live on Jintha'alor, and realized that she wasn't the only one enjoying this phase of the rescue.
Voudka continued launching fireworks into the ancient fortress for another five or so minutes, until it was Marckus' turn to reload and instead of walking up with another rocket, he came to her side and said with an air of anticipation as he patted the side of the launcher a couple of times, "and that, is all the fireworks."
Hearing this, Koto stopped jumping up and down like a jackrabbit, exhibiting a momentary sad face, as Voudka replied in a serious tone, "Then I guess it's time for phase two." She slid the heavy launcher off her shoulder onto the ground and began making a circular motion with her entire right arm, shaking off the sudden pins and needles. Then, as Serac and Marckus picked the launcher up from the ground, Jesiach came over and helped Voudka to her feet. They shared a moment of just looking into each other's eyes, and she could feel his apology, as he could feel her forgiveness. Meanwhile, Serac and Marck had brought the launcher over to a large, narrow chest that lay camouflaged in the middle of the field, just a few feet from where they stood. They gently placed the launcher into the chest, and then as Marckus went to lock it, he wondered, "I hope my custom key lock is good enough."
"I don't care if it isn't." Voudka replied, surprising everyone. "Let's go get Jag and his wife. He alone is worth more than all the custom-engineered firework launchers in the world." No sooner had she finished speaking were her weapons unsheathed and she briskly running towards the fortress. The others were not far behind.
And with that, the second storming of Jintha'alor was underway.

* * *

* * *

It was another stunningly beautiful sunny morning in the Hinterlands (Kinda makes you wonder...does it ever rain in the Hinterlands?). The birds were chirping, the grass and trees were as green as ever, and the white clouds glided effortlessly across the joyfully pastel blue sky. It was sure to be a peaceful, eventless day just like every other; that is, until a bubbly female Night Elf rogue by the name of Kotonoha cried out, "Voud! How much longer? We've got to get in there and rescue them!"
Thoroughly caught off-guard by the sudden exclamation, Voudka dropped the fireworks launcher (that she'd been checking out the newly-added scope of) off her shoulder to the floor as she bounced up into a battle stance. Quickly realizing the new threat was just that of an overanxious guildmate, she released a deep, frustrated sigh and turned to Koto as she caught her breath and put her weapons away. "Yes, Koto, we know." As she said this, Marckus and Jesiach went to lift the launcher up off the ground. "And it will only take me longer to conduct these last minute adjustments and preparations if you do something like that again." Upon finishing that sentence, she gave a comforting smile to Koto before kneeling her left knee back down on the grass so Marck and Jesiach could place the launcher back on her right shoulder. Meanwhile, Koto walked over to a nearby tree and turned to sit up against it, sharpening her two daggers with a sharpening stone Marckus had provided for them to use.
The five of them were currently situated in pretty much the exact same spot at which six of them had stood before the first charge into the fortress a couple of weeks ago. They'd have been back much sooner if it wasn't for the dang-blasted policies of the Bank. You see, Voudka had first engineered her Fireworks Launcher during the previous year's Lunar Festival. She'd also crafted several stacks of diversely colored fireworks. The bazooka-like launcher was put to very good use for the duration of that festival, but when it was over, she decided it didn't make a lick of sense to go on walking around the world with the heavy thing in one of her backpacks, so she deposited it into her storage compartment at the bank. Well, when she traveled to Ironforge the day after the first storming of Jintha'alor to reclaim her launcher, she encountered quite a number of obstacles. For starters, they had to transport her launcher all the way from Darnassus, where she'd deposited it after the Festival, to the Dwarf city. Then, she had to go through the lengthy - and somewhat costly - process of both renewing her "Fireworks Possession" and "Celebratory Artillery" permits and signing new copies of various safety waivers and such. ("I, ______, entrust myself with the responsibility involved in wielding and using a product crafted from a schematic designed by Honor the Elders Incorporated. I will not hold Honor the Elders Inc. or any associate or shareholder of Honor the Elders Inc. accountable for any accidents or injuries that I or any other individual may sustain through my personal use of the crafted product. Should any other individual cause any accident or injuries to themselves or anyone else through the use of this product, I shall be held accountable and responsible for any and all damages dealt or payments warranted." is how one such waiver was spelled out.) All this took up until the previous day to take care of, and by this time, the preparations everyone else was responsible for had already been taken care of for days. So here they were, finally ready to break Jagauric and Jaina out of troll captivity, complete with a powerful firework launcher that practically had to be broken out of a captivity of its own.
Another twenty or so minutes went by while Voudka continued to tinker away at her launcher. It wasn't that she was a shoddy engineer - she had made quite a few auxiliary adjustments and additions to the basic blueprint. For example, her launcher was not a one time use launcher that would be exhausted after one successful launch. No, Voudka's launcher was capable of an infinite number of launches so long as regular maintenance was conducted. Furthermore, she added a scope for better aim. That was a very recent addition (after all, fireworks are normally shot upwards into the sky, but today...). In order for all to go smoothly and according to plan, she had to make sure that everything would work as it should when the time came to actually use the launcher. For this reason, Voudka was being very meticulous.
While Voud continued her work, Koto began plucking single blades of grass out of the ground with which to make natural whistles. She got a few blades to make a nice, loud whistle sound, but after a while she began to get menacing looks from the rest of the group. "Koto, I like you," Jesiach began to say, "I like you a lot. But if you continue to discover and employ ways for the trolls to spot our presence before we're ready for them to, I'm going to have to tie you to that tree you were sitting up against a moment ago and I won't let you free until we're ready to go. Do you understand?"
Serac and Marckus began to chuckle heartily, while Voudka, who surely would have laughed a little if she had been paying any attention, continued working efficiently and diligently on the launcher. Koto, on the other hand, didn't laugh any, and she understood where Jesiach was coming from. In order for this second charge to be successful, they absolutely needed to possess an initial element of surprise. By blowing into grass blade whistles, she was taking the risk of compromising the entire mission. "I do," she replied solemnly. "I suppose I'll do a little tinkering of my own, with some spare herbs I have in my pack. That, hopefully, will keep me occupied until Voud's all set."
"That won't be necessary," Voudka said suddenly, drawing the attention of everyone. "I'm done. The launcher is ready. Let Operation Flame Shock begin."

Jag awoke with a start. His eyes flashed open, but not a single muscle so much as tensed. He thought he heard someone walking down the path. More torture? Another beating? Hadn't they made their point by now? Wasn't the total rape of his masculine pride enough? He stayed absolutely still - a good thing considering how worn he was physically - and anticipated a troll-shaped shadow to appear at the entrance to his hut at any moment. But such a shadow never came, and come to think of it, he hadn't heard anything besides chirping birds since waking. "Perhaps I imagined it," Jag thought. He allowed himself to blink before resuming. "Perfect. Now they've got me hearing things." Jag inhaled as deep a breath as his tolerance of the coinciding pain would allow and then let it out slowly. He wasn't going crazy. Surely, he had more inner strength than that. Sure he was in excruciating pain everywhere it was possible to experience pain, but even the last bout of torture hadn't been enough to cause him to begin to crumble within himself. "C'mon, Jag" he spoke to himself within his own mind, "you've still got plenty of fight in ya. Don't give in."
He allowed himself to begin breathing normally, but as always he barely moved in any way. Since the tentacle thing - a traumatic event since which Jag had no idea how much time had transpired (days? weeks? He'd been out cold for a long while.) - even the mere thought of moving any muscle at all brought on some pain. The pain he'd felt before that day was nothing compared to the persistent, mortal pain that he was feeling now. And of course, he couldn't even cringe in reaction to something as innocent as an involuntary twitch because thanks to the most recent round of physical anguish, his face had since joined the fray of perpetual agony. It really couldn't possibly get any worse.
These days, Jag may have been preoccupied with thoughts of holding on and not falling into a state of insanity, and maintaining an ever sharp, vigilant ear on his surroundings, but underneath it all, he still possessed the hope that the Legion would come, that those who had come here with him the first time would come back a second time to bring their broken blue buddy home. It was this hope, more than his own constant self-reassurances, that was keeping him from slipping into a state of mental and psychological instability.
After a few additional moments, Jag decided that he would be better off just falling back asleep. He was no good to himself stressing out and being awake to feel the constant pain. At least while asleep, his breathing was more shallow and he wouldn't feel any pain. And he could begin to heal, maybe. Hopefully. So, laying on his back like always, he closed his eyes and took a painful deep breath, which he exhaled slowly to try to relax himself. It must've worked because within seconds, he was out cold.

Jag's slumber had lasted only about a single second. He snapped upright at his waist, eyes wide open, realizing too late how much explosive pain he had set off by doing so. But he wasn't even thinking about the pain at this moment. Something had just happened and whatever it was, it was clearly out of the ordinary. Jintha'alor was always such a quiet place, like the rest of the Hinterlands, but whatever had just woken Jag up so suddenly was most definitely not quiet.

Jag snapped his neck briskly to face out the hut's entrance. He didn't see anything, but he had definitely heard that one. He wasn't imagining these sounds. This second one, whatever it was, had come closer to his location, perhaps even passed right over him to somewhere higher up into the fortress. But what in Titans' creation were they? What the heck was going on???
The loud shrieking sounds continued for several more minutes, sometimes passing over Jag's hut, sometimes sounding as though they were traveling over the complete opposite side of the fortress. There were a few times where Jag thought that one of whatever they were was going to hit near his hut and kill him, but that never happened, much to Jag's relief.
It was clear that Jintha'alor was under attack. But by whom? And with what? No sooner did Jag finally think to contemplate the latter did he receive his answer. What clearly looked like a firework rocket whizzed past, a ways away, through his hut entrance vista. "Fireworks?!" Jag questioned aloud. Then he began to think about it a bit more, pensively letting the observation register in his mind. "Of all the forms of artillery in the world...fireworks? Who in their right mind wou-" And then it clicked. His friends were back. He was going to get rescued!
Sitting there, he began to see and smell smoke and hear the sound of roaring fires. He could hear the screaming of hundreds of trolls and he could hear the continued assault of fireworks whizzing playfully to their targets. There was a brief moment where Jag considered braving the pain and trying to walk out of his hut and make his way out on his own, using the colorful barrage as a diversion. But, just as he was about to talk himself out of it, believing his friends would have a better time finding him if he remained stationary and that he was very obviously in no shape to get past even the first wave of opposition, should he have encountered one, a young male troll that looked very familiar to Jag appeared at the entrance of the hut, blocking Jag's view of the airborne carnage. So much for hoping the induced chaos would cause the trolls to forget all about him!
But getting back to this troll, Jag just stared at him for a while, trying to figure out why a particular troll in this place would strike him as familiar. "Youuu..." Jag mumbled out loud. "Have we met before?" he asked at his regular speaking volume.
"Shet ep!" the young troll replied, turning to look at Jag. "I doan't haf tah ansah yeh kwes-chuns."
As the troll turned back around to face the rest of Jintha'alor, Jag responded, "No, I don't suppose you do. But it wasn't a terribly difficult question I asked. I just want to know if we've met before. You look familiar."
The troll turned around, looking very nervous. Jag almost thought he saw him shaking a little, but he couldn't be sure. The troll looked like he wanted to speak, but he hesitated a few times. Then, he did speak, "I sappose I do. I watched as they cut af yer tentahcles. I waz the fiyahkeepah." Upon finishing what he had to say, he quickly turned back around to face the outside.
"I see." Jag said. "Well, then, my next question is, if you're a firekeeper, why do they have you guarding such a high-priority prisoner as myself?"
Without turning around, the young troll replied with a tinge of anger, "Beycuz...they fortress es undah attack. They Chiefs' Quahtahs wah ay-mohng they ehrias heet dah hardest. All they soljahs wah ordahed tah help in those locayshuns."
"Ah, and that left you to guard me." Jag chimed in. "Well, I promise I won't make this tougher on you than need be. Guard away."
Upon hearing this, the young troll turned around slowly, wearing a perplexed expression on his face. "Is dis a trick?"
Jag laughed lightly for a few seconds. "No, it's not. Look at me. Even you could stop me cold if I tried to escape from this hut. I'm going to just sit right here and be a good little prisoner. Is that alright?" Jag then achingly displayed a toothless half-smile.
The troll glared at Jag for a moment or two before hesitantly responding, "Ehh...sure......" Then he turned back around once again and stood firmly in a tough guardsman-like position.
It humored Jag that somehow, he had still retained his sense of witty humor through all the beatings and torture and trauma of this ordeal in Jintha'alor. Maybe it had just come back because the glint of hope he had held onto the whole time had now been answered. He would be a good prisoner, sure, because Jag was a man of his word. But he wouldn't have to be a prisoner for long because he knew, with the fireworks show at an end, that his comrades had already begun to search for him inside the fortress.

"It didant wurk! I plucked and plucked," said the "Plucker", "but 'e didant cry or yell or wince er anyting! Ez just a bald-fehsed Draenei now!"
"Dat doesn't meyk any sense, doh." said one of the tribe leaders. "All Draenei males treasure dehur fehcial hair! Most have it and keep it looken all prehty all deh tyme. This Jag must beh speshiale...a weird one."
"No," another tribe leader disagreed, "He ez not speshiale. He ez not broken. Not at all. He's a resilient little byle toad..." This tribe leader then paused for a moment, rubbing his right tusk with the corresponding hand. He then continued, "or so he wants us tah think... He is breaken... Something more drastick must beh doan."
"But what, mah chief?" the Plucker asked frustratingly, "If note is fehcial hair, then what does a Draenei male prize most about his physikal appearance?"
"Perhaps it is his fehcial tentahcles." the young troll male tending to the fire suggested surprisingly.
There were a few moments of complete quiet, save for the healthy fire erupting upon the pit. The second tribe leader had been staring with great focus into the fire during those seconds of quiet, almost as though in a trance, but then he spoke and said, "Perhaps you are right, yung one." He then looked up again at the other chiefs and the "Plucker" and said, "This Draenei must beh broken. I, no, weh the trolls of Jintha'alor will not be sen as misinformed or softenin' up! I will do it. I will perform this round of torcha!" With this, the other trolls present, not including the firekeeper, nodded slightly in acknowledgement as this chief then approached the entrance of the hut where Jag was being held. Once at the entrance, he knelt down a little, and motioned to the two large trolls that they were to bring Jag outside by the fire. They did as ordered, pinning him painfully to the ground about three feet away from the fire pit.

Jag didn't know what was going on. No sooner did the chatting outside the door cease for the second time did a troll chief appear at the hut's opening and motion that he be brought outside. Now he was laying mere feet from a burning fire, pinned once again, with no way of knowing what was about to happen and no way to escape.
Even though Jag had just survived the lightest torture he'd ever experienced during his captivity at the ancient troll fortress, it wasn't hard to recognize that what was coming was going to be severe. He could see the mixture of frustration and eagerness in all the trolls' faces. Usually, when trolls get eager and excited like this, Jag had learned, the chance bad things will happen is certain.

With Jag pinned down by the fire, the troll chief who had volunteered to conduct the torture reaching down to his belt's sheath and pulled out wide-bladed dagger. The blade reflected the sunlight into Jag's eyes, causing him to squint. "Aah, yeh got teh beh kiddin." the Plucker chimed in disgust. "Yeh jus gaht a bigger reyaction with yer blade owdah him than I did plucken his feyce off!"
"Dat's enough, Jin'tak!" the dagger-wielding chief said. "Now beh quiet or else yeh'll beh sure to miss dis." Getting the message, Jin'tak immediately calmed down and stood firmly in place. Seeing that Jin'tak had been successfully reprimanded, the chief then turned and looked down at Jag and said, "Deh plucken waz jest eh warm-up. Dis is deh main ehvent. I hope yer ready...cuz dis. Will. Hert." And with that, he knelt beside Jag, who was still being pinned down by the two huge troll soldiers, stretched out the hand which held the dagger, and immersed the blade into the fire for a few moments. Then, he began to bring the heated blade back towards Jag, towards his face.

As Jag saw the now-scorching blade come ever closer to his face, his mind began to go frantic with a thousand thoughts at once. "What is he going to do with the dagger?" "Is he going to give me more facial scars? That I can handle, though the heat would sure sting." "Is he going to cut my ears off? That would truly be terrible, but nothing I couldn't deal with in time." "Oh no, is he going to carve out my eyeballs?? Oh please not that! Please please not that!!" It just went on and on, all at once. Jag was sure his brain would just explode from overload before the dagger even touched his face. In the meantime, the dagger did reach his face. As it hovered for that millisecond above his nose, Jag's brain just froze, waiting for the imminent pain to come, wherever it arose.
The dagger touched Jag's face, blade down, on his rightmost tentacle. As the chief began to saw the tentacle off like one would cut through a steak, the pain began to flare up. It immediately took Jag's breath away. He couldn't even scream at first. But he did scream...a lot, once he regained the ability to do so. The pain was incredible. Between the pain from the sawing motion of the dagger and the searing pain from the blade's hot touch to both his skin and all the nerves inside his tentacle, it was quite overwhelming. Jag was sure he would pass out from the pain. But he didn't, at least not while the first tentacle was being removed.
As the chief came back with the dagger after re-immersing it in the fire, Jag tried to prepare himself for another bout, but there was just no preparing for this degree of extreme pain. As the chief began to saw through the next tentacle, Jag began to convulse. There was no fighting pain of this magnitude, so his body wanted to get the hell away. If only the troll soldiers holding him down were the size of the chief sawing off his pride and dignity. He continued shaking and screaming in agony until the chief had finished cutting through the second tentacle and, like with the first, threw it right into the fire.
This atrocious ritual carried on for another two cycles, until Jag's chin was a bloody blue mess with four terribly sore, circular wounds. Jag was still bleeding quite a bit, and he was miraculously still conscious, though he had no more scream in him. His voice was shot. He so hoped that it was all over, but nobody was getting up and moving away. The soldiers hadn't budged. The torturer was still wielding the dagger, now holding it for a fifth time in the orange flames. "What else are they planning to do to me!?" Jag thought as he began to panic.

Satisfied once more that the dagger was sufficiently heated, the chief brought the dagger over to Jag's now profusely bleeding jaw line and applied a flat side of the dagger onto one of the two bigger wounds, attempting to cauterize it and stop the bleeding. While this wasn't exactly part of the torture, he knew that it was still inflicting tremendous pain onto his Draenei prisoner and that served to maintain the state of internal elation that he had been experiencing through the entire act. He repeated this process for the other three wounds and then continued to apply the dagger to the wounds until the bleeding had completely ceased. As he applied the dagger to a wound for what would be the last time, he saw Jag attempt to speak the words, "Jaaainaa...hellllp meeeee..." though the words came out rather scratchy and weak. And no sooner did Jag finish his feeble attempt at speech did his eyes roll back inside his head as he faded into unconsciousness. After the chief lifted the dagger away from Jag's face, he ordered the troll soldiers to uncuff themselves from Jag and carry him by his arms and legs back to his quarters. As the soldiers and Jag walked down a staircase out of sight, the chief turned and walked over to the firekeeper, whom he patted on the shoulder while saying, "Good tinken...Kalwen," remembering the young troll's name. "I'm mah beh keepen mah eyes on you." He gave Kalwen a brief smile before walking off to the Chiefs' Quarters to cleanse his dagger of all the Draenei blood that was drying on it.

* * *

Jag lay there in the cramped, dirty hut, staring out blankly at the dark green trees and the vibrantly blue sky. The morning sun shone right into the tent, warming Jag's sore body like a natural blanket. The warmth was more than welcome, since the only thing Jag was wearing was a simple loincloth. The nights were ruthlessly cold - a consequence of being in the mountains - and one of the first things the trolls had done during the first night of captivity was remove all of Jag's gear and toss it away somewhere.
Jag remained staring out at the scene outside the hut, not wanting or caring to move. There was no point. The colors with which outside was painted seemed duller, and it hurt to think, let alone move. It was an absolutely beautiful day, just like the day he and his friends had charged into Jintha'alor, but all the hope and joy that came with a day like this had gone away never to return. Jag would never be able to appreciate a perfectly sunny day such as this ever again. They had become permanently stained with the memories of his wife's barbaric murder and the start of his own brutal captivity.
Jag had no recollection of how long he'd been in Jintha'alor. The days bled into each other, and the nights seemed to never end. The trolls rarely fed him (he barely ate), and they only let him out of the hut when it was time to be beaten or tortured in one way or another. At this point, he was in pain just laying there on the floor, but it was worlds better than when he was made to sit, stand, or walk. Any thought to attempt any kind of escape had left his mind days ago (or was it weeks?). He'd never get passed the big troll guards right outside the hut, in any case.
Jag was just in constant pain, no matter how he existed. Even trying to think about happier times, places, or things didn't help at all. Happier times almost always included Jaina, and happier places and things would never be as happy as they once were since Jaina would no longer be at his side to experience and enjoy them. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought, Jag was in constant pain. Physical, emotional, psychological pain. It never ended. Jag wondered to himself if it ever would.

The joyless, sunny morning crept on like honey down the side of a jar. It was nearing midday, Jag guessed, and he had yet to be fed some kind of breakfast. No surprise there. "They're probably saving some slop for after my next beating," Jag thought as the mere thought of another beating made all his current bruises - most past dark blue straight on to a grossly yellow-green - act out in awareness. As if Jag had spontaneously acquired a knack for pinpoint foresight, a trio of trolls was suddenly blocking the sunlight at the hut's opening. One scrawny, average-sized troll was flanked by two of the monstrosities Jag had quickly come to associate with pain. "Yah comin' wit us," the scrawny troll said.
"As if I have a choice," Jag thought to say, but didn't. He learned early on that snide or sarcastic remarks would only bring on a harsher beating or degree of torture. So he kept his quip to himself...though he smiled a wee bit on the inside at the thought that he did still retain some of his bite after all the apparent breaking. Hearing no verbal opposition, the scrawny troll made a motion with his right hand and the two hulking troll soldiers entered the hut. Each soldier took a pair of black metal handcuffs and attached one cuff around one of Jag's wrists and the other cuff around one of their own. When all four cuffs were securely clasped, the two troll mutants got up and yanked their cuffed arms upward so as to propel Jag up off the ground into an upright standing position. It worked, but not without causing significant pain to Jag. But this is how it always went. They'd been using the cuffs since the day after Jaina's murder. They knew Jag couldn't be left to walk for himself, not even with his hands held firmly by guards, not even in his now very weakened state. So this is how it went, and this is how Jag traveled to his occasional beating or torture. Cuffed, without a chance of escaping, and in complete pain every step of the way.
"Weh've gaht sumtin speshiale fah ya, tahday," the scrawny troll said after Jag's hut had disappeared behind them. He was behind the cuffed trio. "Id'll beh good tymes," he continued - Jag was sure - with a wide, sneaky grin. All Jag could think of to think about saying was "oh goodie." To be honest, the fact the troll was sounding really excited about today's act or acts of brutality was a sure sign it would be something far worse than the usual treatment. For this reason, Jag wouldn't have said what he was thinking even if he felt the air aura of defiance about him to do so. He was worried. Genuinely scared, even.
A short while later, they had reached their destination. It was a pair of huts on the side of the path facing inward towards a small fire pit that had a fire crackling upon it. The scrawny troll walked ahead of the cuffed trio and guided with a hand gesture to the closer hut. The troll mutants then walked into the hut, involuntarily taking Jag with them. They laid him down on the ground and then each troll used both of their hands to hold one of Jag's arms down to the ground. Jag noticed that they were not uncuffing him. He knew right away why. "Whatever they're about to do to me," Jag deduced, "it's going to be severe and relentless. It might be so bad that I might forget that my chances of running out of this hut are less than zero percent and try to bounce out of here. Because the torture -because this most definitely won't be a beating - is going to be so bad, they don't even want to take that chance, because they want me here, pinned, for the entire duration because this will hurt way more than anything they'd do to me if they had to catch me during an escape attempt." At the dawning of this realization, Jag suddenly went limp. He hadn't fainted, but he didn't want to fight it. Not at all. He would endure it, like he always did. No matter what it was. He would endure.
Because someday he would get rescued. Voudka, Marckus, Kotonoha, Serac, and Jesiach...they'd come back for him. He knew it as surely as his heart still beat. All he had to do was hang in there until they arrived...and not go madly insane or be broken before then. Not that Jag was close to either of these states. Oh no. Jagauric might be terribly and completely sore, but insane he was not. Broken, he was not. Though still thoroughly heartbroken, he was still very strong. And at this moment, he was certainly strong enough to endure these exciting new torture techniques he was about to experience.
With Jag satisfactorily pinned to the ground, the scrawny troll that had walked from Jag's hut to this hut with his cuffed escorts turned and left the hut. Seconds later, a somewhat larger male troll (though not nearly as large as the mutants) entered the hut. He didn't seem too menacing, but Jag knew he would be the one to perform the torturous act. He knelt down behind Jag's head and pulled out a pair of what looked very much like a pair of tweezers. Jag was dumbfounded...but not for long.
"I hope yeh've enjoyed yehr sideburns cuz I'm mah be pluckin' 'em out, hair by hair." the newest inhabitant of the hut said. And with that, without waiting for any verbal response from Jag, he proceeded to begin plucking out Jag's sideburns. The troll, of course, chose to go about this as painfully as possible, yanking back as many hairs at once as he could, never doing it slowly or gently. It hurt, but only for a few seconds each time. His face would be a little sore later on, but this was actually nothing compared to what had come before. While the troll continued plucking out his gray facial hair, Jag remained silent and maintained an expression of passive determination on his face.
A few minutes later, Jag no longer had even a single strand of facial hair remaining on his face. As expected, his face was a little sore in those areas, but nothing he couldn't tolerate mindlessly until it passed. He hadn't yelped or squinted or shouted out in rage once during the entire ordeal. The troll was disappointed. Very disappointed.
Jag saw the "Plucker's" upside-down face show more and more disappointment as the plucking went on. The growing disappointment expressed by the troll only further inspired him not to wince or make any kind of movement or sound. When the plucking was done, the Plucker just stayed there in place knelt over Jag for another few seconds before getting up and walking out of the hut, discouraged. Almost immediately, Jag heard a discussion begin just outside the hut. Unfortunately, he could not make out what they were saying. The crackling of the fire and the leather tarp walls of the hut kept most of the exterior noise from entering the hut. But, Jag could at least tell that there were other trolls waiting outside to see Jag when he came out and from the sound of it, these weren't spectators. These were more likely than not surviving tribe leaders from after the Legion raid's attack on the fortress, and they were very actively discussing something. Jag could only imagine what.

I finished chapter nine of my main WoW character's RP story about two weeks ago. The problem is...it's about thirteen pages long in Word, size 9. That's why I've yet to post it here. I apologize to those who were reading it and enjoying the adventure, but as I get more and more thorough with my writing, the chapters are getting longer (though, admittedly much better) and I don't want to bombard you all with text blocks. Sorry. =/