War...

I stand at the beach, watching the orcs fight..does Garrosh care hes throwing his own people into a war where...we may not win? I struggle to convince myself this is best for the Horde, but is it truly? As I think these thoughts, dwarven riflemen attack me. I feel their ammunition strike me as I, with speed borne of my training strike them down. I am hurt, I smell my blood as I manage to remove the bullets with a grunt of pain. As I continue, executing precision strikes for the Horde, I freeze, a Kaldorei monk passes me..She stops, and bows, offering her respect to me. I had killed many Alliance soldiers this day. My racial prejudice of the Kaldorei seems not to intrude, as I bow in return. She offers a slight smile, looking at me with an apologetic expression. Why would the enemy show me compassion? I ponder this as I look behind her, the trail of dead orcs in her wake. I narrow my good eye, staring her down...My old instincts begin to rise as she smiles again, moving off into the jungle, sitting down, her eyes showing exhaustion. She looked hurt, worse then I..Do I strike her down? I move closer to her, moving away from the beach, and sit, nearby..I finish doctoring my minor wounds, as she, simply collapses. The compassionate soul within me calls out that I offer her my aide, doctoring her wounds and walking away..Garrosh's orcs would strike me down for offering aide to the enemy...branding me a traitor to the Horde. I shrug, almost inwardly, as I rise, picking up the listless Kaldorei and carry her to an out of the way location, away from the prying eyes of the Horde..

The woman finally opens her eyes, staring up at me, surprise on her face. Her voice is low and soft, as she attempts communication with me in the language of the humans. I give her a puzzled and confused look as she sighs with some frustration. I remove my helm, dropping the covering of cloth that hid most of my features. Her eyes widen in surprise as she can finally see me. I smile slightly, bowing my head in greeting. "Bal'a dash. Doral ana'diel?" I mutter, hoping she would understand. She eyes me, frowning.  I cannot understand her as she speaks her native tongue. The distance of time had divided our language, creating two distinct dialects... I merely shrug, gesturing down at the bandages and herbs I had used to mend her wounds temporarily. She looks herself over, and bows her head in gratitude, rising to her feet, and slowly limping away..

I sit down heavily...the wounds I had accumulated had been worse then anticipated. I fish around for my pain killer, drinking it down..The medicine works slowly, but steadily, easing the pain I feel. As I prepare to leave to seek healing,  the Kaldorei returns. She watches me, carefully at first, studying my movements as I struggle to rise momentarily. Breathing heavily, I finally rise to my booted feet, perking a brow at the Kaldorei. She offers a rolled up parchment, smiling. I hesitate, extending my gloved hand, securing the parchment from her. She nods, gesturing at the parchment, as if she wished me to read it. Unrolling the parchment , I read it carefully...

*Thank you. You good horde...*

As I finish reading, I look up, and nod in response to the hastily scrawled note in badly phrased thalassian. "Al diel shala.." I would murmur, limping away. For now, there is a truce between that kaldorei and I, but tomorrow..only the fates will play out that hand..