Captive

[machk]

He had grown sick of this place. It was always trifling hot, one could become dehydrated within mere minutes, and the hot crisp air of the Thousand Needles canyon was enough to overcome the hardiest of throats. Not only did the weather and local conditions of the place disturb him, but also the history he had held with it. Not long ago, Machk called Thousand Needles his home, residing in one of the largest Grimtotem settlements, the Darkcloud Pinnacle. The last time he visited that place was when he was being tried for murdering a chieftain. While that is another story in itself, Machk had no intetions of visiting the place, though he couldn't help but gaze up into the rises when he passed the Pinnacle on his travel. I wonder what my people are doing up there, he thought. Hopefully living a good life without me, as I am without them...

Machk's feelings were in a stir as he traveled down the beaten and dusty roads of the canyons on his way to the woods of Feralas. The night before, he had finally gotten off his chest the true feelings he had towards Shari, and explained them in a more physical way afterward. He had to leave her the next morning, and while it pained him to leave just after he had released everything he had felt to her, he was left happy knowing that someone he cared for cared for him in return. But, in Machk's eyes, one can never be happy without also having sorrow, much like how there is no darkness without light. The counter-feeling to his happiness was the kidnapping of Argo. Machk felt not only sorrow for the well being of the child, but also enraged at his captors, the centaurs of Desolace. They had captured the one who Machk saw as a true son, and no matter how chivalrous the centaur claimed to be about the situation, Machk was sure to himself that his bloodlust would be sated.

The canyon sun was at its highest as Machk traversed the beaten path. He was extremely thirsty, his water supply having been depleted almost an hour ago. He hadn't realized it would take him this long to reach Feralas. Although his hooves were sore, he chose to drain that pain away, worried about something more problematic than a hurting foot: dehydration. His hope began to flutter in an instant when, passing around the bottom of a rise, he began to see green luscious trees poke their heads from the tops of the rises. He knew he couldn't let this newfound hope get to his mind, though. He still had the problem of an alliance encampment being placed directly on the border of the forest. He traced his memory to the first ond only time he had been to Feralas and he passed the camp on a wyvern, it was mainly a Night Elf settlement. He had hoped that because he was a tauren, and the only things really butting the elves and taurens head to head were the arguments of the first druids and a forced hatred, they would let him pass without harm. Maybe even offer him some water.

I'll find out soon... he thought as he began to catch sight of the encampment in question. It appeared the elves hadn't taken long to spot him, either. Then again, thanks to his size and stature, they wouldn't have needed much time to begin with. As a male elf began to glare at him with a hand on his bow, Machk began to pace more slowly, holding two hands in the air to signal there would be no tensions on his part. While Machk would usually have no problem in passing Alliance posts without fear of harming them, he couldn't even think of harming them now, knowing what he does about his new family and friends. A female a few paces away from the male began shouting something in a foreign language. Machk tried to make something out of it with his small knowledge of Common, but he couldn't pick anything up. He didn't need to; at this point most of the elves guarding the camp had a bow and arrow pointed his way. Machk froze instantly as he sensed the immense tension and heard the fine strings of their bows pull back. He through his hands in the air, hoping to alarm them that he means nothing bad. Machk even tried to speak to them in what little Common he had known from his previous voyages as an ambassador.

"No harm...No harm...cow friend...no elf harm"

The elves remained steady in their aims, watching the large tauren quietly, making sure to let go of the arrow in a single move.

[machk]

The large tauren and the elves maintained in the standstill for what seemed to be hours. Machk had many options running through his mind, though none of them he had the heart to comply with. Fighting would not be the solution, he didn't want it to be. Not anymore. Machk's arms grew heavy and tired from holding them up for so long, but he could sense that the elves were in no way tired of holding the arrows in his direction. They were trained to be this way. Machk looked down to his hooves in thought. After a few more long moments, he dropped his hands back to his sides. Immediately he sensed the elves stiffen in their position. Slowly, he turned his entire body away from them, facing the entrance of the forest. After a deep breath and a sigh of anticipation, Machk took a slow step, which evolved into slow paces forward, forest bound. Time wasn't long by when Machk heard the ruffling of air behind him, something coming close to him. Suddenly, the black tauren dropped to his knees, his chain mail armor clanging and beating against the dirt. His weight caused him to fall on his hands. A sharp pain erupted from the midst of his back. Throwing a large hand quickly to his back, he could feel an arrow, metal pierced completely through his flesh. Instinctively overcome with bloodlust and rage, he grabbed the wooden portion of the arrow, ripping it from his back and throwing it to his side with a load and bellowing roar. He cocked a hand to the hilt of his axe, gripping it tightly. His mind sought revenge and death, but his heart dismayed these feelings. He let go of his axe as he slowly rose to his feet with a stumble. He gave a solid and aggressive gaze towards the elves before turning back to the forest, shifting into his spirit wolf form and sprinting into the woods.

Passing tree after tree, Machk's sprint slowly became a brisk run, then a walk. Not only was he tired from walking through the canyon, but he had gained a new found fatigue from the sprint. He morphed back into his physical form, kneeling down to catch a few breaths as he panted and grunted in pain. He stumbled to his feet in an attempt to continue, but only met a harsh fall on behind. His mind was clouded as he began to lose sense of anything around him. It was if the world had disappeared before him. He became immensely dizzy and tired at the same time. Poison...damn it all... he began to think but couldn't quite finish as he slammed to the ground backfirst, unconscious.

"Awaken, young one." a voice had said, echoing within the walls of Machk's mind. He grumbled something gibberish in return.

"Come, you are fine, now" it said again, this time more clearly. It was the voice of an elderly woman. Machk attempted to wake, raising a hand to his face to gently rub his eyes. His senses were returning to him, and he could sense an old female tauren beside him. He sighed with relief, finally away from danger.

[Shari'Adune Forestsong]

((This has been very wonderful so far, I hope there will be more. ))

[machk]

After a few hours of rest, the village elder took Machk around the village. Machk explained his story to the elder as they walked, and she listened intently. He told about his conflicts with the Grimtotem, his mission to find Argo, even about Shari' Adune. He explained to her that he must reach the border of Desolace by night's fall, or else Argo would be killed by the centaurs. The elder offered to send some of her village guards to assist Machk, but he declined, explaining how he must go alone as instructed.

Machk hadn't spent much time in Camp Mojache before he gave his thanks and blessings to the elder and her people before he departed, fully rested, hydrated, and fed. He traversed patiently and effeciently through the lucious green woods of Feralas, keeping a sharp mind to be weary of the wolves, bears, gnolls, ogres, and yetis that lived in the forest. Machk even went out of his way to spot Lethlas and Dreamroarer, the two green drakes who supposedly grant good luck on sight. He viewed them from afar behind a bush; Machk had a sort of phobia of dragons. He made off quickly when he noticed the smaller drake look towards him. Machk enjoyed the view of the mesas he spotted within the forest on the way to Desolace. They appeared almost as big as the mesas of Thunder Bluff. Just as he thought of Thunder Bluff, a painful image of Shari crossed his view that made him almost homesick, a feeling he isn't used to at all.

"Dammit, Argo," a grumbled deeply. "We're going to have a long talk when this is over."

He stopped suddenly when the ground turned from a deep, moist brown soil to a green, dry dust. He was here, his final destination. Desolace, a once ancestral land of the tauren turned into a demonic wasteland, filled to the core with deceit, death, and blood.