Burning Bridges | Part 1: Farewell to the Empire

(( I started this storyline almost a year ago and it caused quite a few interesting things to happen. There's a few cameos here and there by some friends, but I always asked permission before including them into my stories.

A little background info first: Dijie was an officer in the Mad Grin Legion, a PvP guild that was created by Cut and Shrogan. Cut asked me to write this specific story after a PvP event that took place at the Thandol Span and I decided to pursue this storyline, so that's how Burning Bridges came about! ))


Cut listened attentively to the report he was being given. It seemed to be the day for these moments. The more he heard, the less pleased he became. Looking to the young paladin seated before him, he stared at her for a moment before speaking.

"You're certain of this?" Cut asked Finnabhair quietly, keeping his tone calm.

"Yes, sir," she replied, her hands folded in her lap. "They were sighted in Arathi, and Hammerfall seems to be their current base of operations. My source tells me it's a proper army camped out, over there."

Cut nodded, thoughtful. Then, "Thank you for your report, Finnabhair. Would you fetch Archal for me on your way out?"

Finnabhair nodded and rose to her feet, saluting smartly and offering him a brilliant smile before leaving his office. She was a good officer, a hard-working one, but for the task he had in mind, she had no place being there.

When Archal appeared, Cut indicated for the warlock to shut the door and sit down. Leaning forward, elbows resting on the surface of his desk, his right knuckles pressed against the palm of his left hand, Cut gave Archal a grim look.

"I have a job for you," the Tauren male stated calmly. "It's going to be messy."

"Of course it is," Archal agreed, shifting forward to indicate Cut had his full attention.

"Drastic measures are being taken. It's time to send a message that won't be misinterpreted. Do you understand what I'm telling you?" Cut asked.

Archal studied his leader for a long moment. He recognized the gleam behind Cut's eyes: rage and violence burned beneath the surface of Cut's calm composure. It promised things Archal enjoyed and he grinned slowly. "Yes, sir. I'll do as you say," Archal assured him.

"Good. Prepare yourself, wait for me at the gates at two hours after sundown. We have work to do."

***********************************************

It was late when Dijie entered Orgrimmar. She guided her raptor past the city gates, heedless of the glowing green gaze that followed her movements. She hurried past the auction house, through the Drag and into the Valley of Honor. The path to the Mad Grin Legion's barracks was familiar and she smiled, looking over the pond with fond memories filling her mind. When she reached the building the Legion occupied, she dismounted and smoothed her skirts as they drifted elegantly around her legs, settling at her ankles. With her head held high, her dark blue hair flowing freely to her hips, she opened the door and stepped inside, Cut's letter gripped in her hand.

Closing the door behind her, she turned slowly, her gaze sweeping over the empty common room. A brazier offered her slight illumination and she made her way past it, to the hallway that would take her to Cut's office.

As she crossed the doorway, she failed to raise her arm in time as a cudgel slammed into the side of her skull. She crumpled and lay still on the ground, blood flowing freely through her hair.

When she regained consciousness, it was slowly. Then the numbness of senselessness was swept away and she moaned in agony. It was a struggle to open her eyes and she snarled viciously, sluggishly attempting to roll over. The movement was painful and she cried out, then bit down hard on her bottom lip.

"Lay still, silly little troll," a familiar voice ordered her.

She obeyed, only because it was the wisest choice. "Ya broke mah legs," she hissed, her voice slurring. Anger was rising within her, rage and indignation at the humiliation that had been inflicted upon her. She embraced it, felt the heat rise, reached out toward the spirit to feel the flames fill her hands in order to exact her vengeance.

And yet...a fog misted her senses. She could feel power just beyond her reach, evading her. Dijie's breathing became labored as realization dawned upon her. She was helpless.

"How long will the drug numb her up?" she heard Cut ask.

"Oh, for a good while, still. But let's not take any chances, shall we?" Archal replied, a second before she felt a needle stab into her lower back.

Armed with nothing more than her rage and her voice, Dijie spit curses and hissed at them until a hoof landed hard on her broken knee. She screamed in agony once, then again as the same hoof landed on her elbow, snapping it like kindling.

She lay still, panting for breath, forcing herself to study her situation from several angles. She realized she was in Durotar, seeing the formation of the stars above her and the dirt beneath her. Both her legs were broken, and now her left arm. Her head ached, no doubt from the blow that had struck her in the barracks. Cut and Archal had admitted to drugging her.

"What be da meanin' of this?" she rasped, managing to open her eyes to look at them.

Cut crouched next to her head. "Ambassador, answer something for me, if you would: Why was the Legion not summoned to Arathi today? Aren't we the High Priest's combat force?"

Dijie's eyes widened. Her mind worked quickly, gauging her responses. After a moment, she chuckled softly, malevolently. No matter her answer, the damage had been done. Resigned, she turned her head and spat to one side before stubbornly pushing herself up into a sitting position, gritting her teeth against the pain. Her vision blurred as she braced herself with her right arm and faced Cut and Archal.

"Ah can no' tell ya da ansah to dat, mon," she rasped, baring her teeth in a vicious grin. "Ya be 'is fist, and ya move when 'e be tellin' ya."

"Translates to: 'I don't know.' Even the precious Ambassador for the Gurubashi Empire isn't kept in the loop any longer," Archal sneered.

"Which means you are no longer any use to me," Cut stated calmly.

"Mueh'zalah take you both," Dijie snarled in Zandali, then switched to Orcish. "May ya bot' rot from wit'in, slowly, and ya offspring--"

Cut's fist slammed into the troll's face. She fell back and his large hand gripped her throat. He struck her again, and a third time, then a fourth. When he pulled his arm back, his fist still ready, Dijie's face was streaked with her blood and his own, his knuckles having scraped against the tusks that curved out of her mouth.

Arms folded over his chest, his shape silhouetted against the sky, Archal moved closer and looked down upon the troll female. Clinging to consciousness, Dijie stared up at the glowing green eyes, her chest rising and falling heavily. Cut gave her a hard shake, her flame-colored gaze snapping away from Archal to look at the Tauren.

"You have one use left in you, Gurubashi scum," Cut informed her. "Then the Legion will be done with you and your masters." The Tauren shoved her down, watched her sprawl on the ground. He lashed out, his hoof slamming into her midsection. She cried out and tried to double over, her legs moving and causing her to scream in agony. While she writhed in the dirt, her blood soaking the ground beneath her, Cut turned to Archal.

"The rest is up to you, warlock. Leave the Gurubashi High Priest a message that states our intentions. Listen well, Dijie," he told her. "The Empire holds no sway over the Mad Grin Legion any longer. We were the High Priest's fighters, his elite force, his contact within the Horde, but no longer. You were the bridge that kept us in touch with the Empire."

Cut stepped back, then looked to Archal and lowered his chin in a brief nod. The warlock raised his arms, a low rumble sounding from his chest, the sound growing louder, his laughter resonating in the clear night air as a roiling black cloud formed over Dijie's body as she lay on the ground. Staring down at her, Cut smiled slowly as he saw realization come into Dijie's eyes, then fear.

"And we consider this bridge burned," Cut roared at her, the rage engulfing him. Archal's laughter rose to a fever pitch as the black clouds spewed forth fire, raining down upon the troll female's prone figure.

Her screams mingled with the warlock's mirth as it filled the night, the smell of burning hair and flesh rising.

*********************************************************

The bonfire in Grom'gol rose before Hazrah as the troll rogue crouched before it pensively. The sounds of the jungle filled his senses, his ears twitching now and then when something caught his attention. The zeppelin had just arrived, the ropes and ties creaking above him. All was normal.

Then a sound came from behind him and Hazrah jerked around, reaching for his weapons. A bundle had fallen on the ground and the troll looked up sharply. The zeppelin was slowly floating on its way, but his keen eyes caught sight of a cowled, cloak figure standing at the rail, one hand gripping the rigging, staring back at him. Hazrah narrowed his eyes when he noticed a green glow coming from within the figure's cowl.

Filthy elves.

A new sound caught his attention, a soft rasp, and his gaze flickered to the bundle. The wind shifted slightly and Hazrah almost gagged when the smell of burned flesh wafted toward him. Eyes widening, he cautiously made his way toward the bundle.

The creature at his feet had been burned beyond recognition, but he knew it was a troll female by the length of her limbs. He could hear her breath hiss in and out, informing him she was alive.

Anger burned his blood to see a troll so desecrated. Looking around him, Hazrah saw two more Gurubashi trolls in the distance. He called out toward them and they hurried to his side.

"Who is this?" Hazrah demanded. "Do either of you recognize her?"

"Her own mother wouldn't recognize her," one troll snorted.

Hazrah crouched down beside her, carefully reaching out when a silver gleam caught his eye. A knife had been stabbed into the female's back, deep but nowhere near any vital organs. One of the trolls gasped when he saw it.

"I know that knife," he said. "Dijie was given that knife when the Emperor elevated her as an Advisor, last year."

Hazrah's gaze narrowed. "Dijie...the one the High Priest sent to Orgrimmar as some sort of emissary?" he asked. When the troll nodded grimly, Hazrah hissed. "Move her, leave the knife where it is. Send a message to the High Priest, see he gets it as quickly as possible. There's more here than we see and possibly he'll be the one who knows what's about."

"Move fast or it's possibly us who'll get torched next," one troll commented.

Thinking back to the figure on the zeppelin, Hazrah nodded grimly. "Let's go. Quickly."

****************************************************

"Did they find her?" Cut asked.

Hands folded into the sleeves of his robe, Archal nodded, a small, serene smile curving the corners of his mouth. "She was found, and the brute wore their tabard. Your message has been delivered, Fearless Leader."

Cut nodded slowly and stared at the wall of his office. He felt no regret, but the fire of battle yet burned in his blood. This had been long overdue. "The Legion is a weapon, the Legion is a shield. We were meant for battle, to answer the High Priest's call, but his summons have been non-existent. It is an insult to see others take our place when this is what we were meant to do," he stated calmly.

"Did you ever really consider us his servants, Cut?" Archal asked, one slender eyebrow arching upward.

"Never. Allies, yes, but if you wish to keep your allies, you keep them involved in your plans. No such information has been given to me."

"So how do you explain our support at the Thandol Span?" Tilting his head to one side, Archal studied his leader.

"We are the Horde, Archal. I received reports of military activity in Arathi, I ordered that we investigate it. It confirmed what I had suspected: the Legion is being deliberately kept out of the loop. Who knows why, I certainly don't. But I know who's responsible for it. That's how I explain our support at Thandol Span: we fought for the Horde and its allies."

Archal remained silent for a long while, then nodded sharply. "Yes, sir."

"Anything else, warlock?" Cut asked.

"No, sir. I'll leave you to your thoughts." Inclining his head, Archal turned slowly and left the office.

Cut stared at the wall for a moment longer, then exhaled slowly, tension easing from between his shoulders. He was a warrior, a born fighter, and the Legion's leader. People seemed to have forgotten that.

No more. He had taken the action to make his intentions clear. Let them think what they would, the Legion's purpose could not be misinterpreted any longer.

Standing, Cut left his office and headed to the common room where his people had assembled for the evening. Tomorrow would be a new day, always a new beginning. He would grasp it and the opportunities it would provide.