Monday (27 Aug) - Lighting the Fuse

Monday (27 Aug) - Lighting the Fuse

It was time to go. Jocey had carefully packed all of the items on Naithipe's list. Her poor mount would likely complain of the ungainly weight, but she would take it slow. As far as her own gear, everything she owned was either already equipped or in her backpack. If things went terribly wrong Jocey wanted to be able to cut and run on a moment's notice.

Getting to Tranquillen by ground mount would take some time. The journey beyond the town would take even longer. Word of mouth traveled a lot faster, though. Word had reached Silvermoon City that an orc shaman had come through Tranquillen looking for an undead death knight. Sketches of the death knight had been passed around. Jocey had found one such sketch, torn and smeared from recent rain, on the grounds near the flight master outside the City gates. There was little left of the sketch. It was enough, though, to turn Jocey's blood cold in fear. Jocey hoped that this was some other orc shaman. Some other undead death knight. Jocey knew, though, that the orc shaman had to be EZ. She must have bypassed Silvermoon City all together. EZ may not even have known that Jocey was in the City. A quick check with the flight master confirmed that an orc shaman had indeed taken a flight to Tranquillen.

As worried as she was, Jocey could not help thinking back on the last time she saw a shaman all the way out in this part of the world. A much younger JB had traveled all the way to Eversong Woods to provide gear and advice to a very young, inexperienced blood elf many, many seasons ago. That blood elf was Jocey.

Jocey shook off the memories. Now was not the time. She could only hope that she got to Tranquillen and to EZ before Naithipe did. Then she had a second thought. She turned over the smeared sketch and found a moderately clean spot. Jocey wrote, "N is coming. Get out of Tranquillen." Jocey folded it and sealed it with her initial, J, in a blood elf curl. Jocey handed the note and a few silver pieces to the flight master. "See that this gets to that orc shaman. She'll be in Tranquillen." She couldn't think of anything else she could do to help EZ, except get her own carcass on the road. 

Naithipe did not head directly for Tranquillen after leaving Jocey in Silvermoon City. She made her own simple preparations. Naithipe never carried more than she planned to be buried with. Garrosh had his armada. Naithipe was on her way to join it. Although the armada would have one ship within it with orders not exactly those of the Warchief's. Naithipe pushed away her frets, angry at herself that she harbored second thoughts. Gamon had better not betray her.

Back in Org, Wild was roused from his nap by dumping him out the hammock he was snoring in. He staggered upright, glaring at JB, Philly, Mel, and Mery, all of which had surrounded him with accusing stares. Wild wished earnestly for the hundredth or thousandth time that his family had been made up of boys instead of all these witch women. Maybe he could drop into cat form and go stealth. There were plenty of other places he could find to nap.

"Naithipe has eluded us once again," Mel started.

"We have lost contact with Jocey, too," Philly pitched in.

"And no one has heard from EZ since she was sent to find Naithipe," added JB. JB judiciously didn't mention that it was she who had rushed off EZ.

Wild had to put down the wistful thought that, well, there would be three fewer women to contend with, anyway. Maybe he should send a few more off to far flung places.

Wild put on a suitable grimace. "Shouldn't at least you, Philly, and you, JB, be getting ready to sail with the armada?" Wild held up a hand for silence. "And Naithipe will do what she will. Leave her be!"

Wild thought a moment. "As for Jocey and EZ ... "  Wild looked at Mel. "Looks like you get the short straw. Off to Silvermoon City with you. Find them. Find out what they are doing, and if necessary escort them back to safety."

Wild pulled at an ear as he considered further. "And Mel, if you do find Naithipe, well, try not to kill each other. I don't want to have to pick through the pile of bones you two would leave behind for me to have to put back together." Wild added those final words with a look that came awfully close to a brotherly smile (which totally grossed out Mel).

Wild turned away, intent on getting back to his nap. He was muttering as he walked off. "Undead death knights dying, what an oxymoron on so many levels. Don't know what oxen have to with morons, but both certainly apply to death knights."

What Wild didn't tell them was that he knew where Naithipe was going. Wild was a lot more engaged in the business of his family than it would appear on the surface. The thing with the sketches was worrisome, but the issue should be long past before it could turn ugly. Or so Wild expected. But there was a lot about what Naithipe was doing that Wild did not know.

Naithipe and Gamon sat at a table at the seaport inn in Ratchet. That would be in the Northern Barrens, south of Orgrimmar. They listened to the waves washing up on the shore and watched the ships come and go. They waited on word from the Warchief. Is the armada a go or not? Everything seemed ready, but no signal had been given.

Naithipe was beginning to think that the Warchief's assault would be delayed. If that turned out to be so, Naithipe could go back to the business in the Ghostlands.