The search for oneself. [Farseer]

[Uthaniel]

(Considering the amount of visions in this entire thread, I reckon the line between what's going on and what's in her head might get blurry. For that reason, visions are in italic.)

Juna woke up, sweat covering her body. She could barely understand what had went on, flashes going about on her head, images of a dream she couldn't remember. She groaned as she heaved herself off the bed, head throbbing and hurting as she made her way outside the tent.

Her head felt like it was about to burst open. The pain only intensified itself as she stared at the sunlight, making it hard to even see. The bright rays of sunlight, then nothing else. Darkness.

When she came to, she was in a distinctively different place. Some sort of valley she couldn't pinpoint. For the first time in her entire life, the line between real and vision, dream and not, had become so blurred she had no grasp of reality. Standing up with a bit of difficulty, her body groggy even if the pain had passed, she made her way to a riverbed near her location, albeit somewhat dangerously near a waterfall, that she stood on top of.
As she explored the sight, she understood where she was; Outland. But not the torn, destroyed planet. She stood in Draenor as it was before her people were tricked; She was in the purest form of Nagrand.

And there, from high in the valley, she saw them below. Her people, before the demonic taint had a hold of them. Mag'har, merely farming, dancing, playing - Peaceful. Not the war-ridden folk they had become, but instead an united clan.

She couldn't help but smile to herself. By then, however, the pearly, translucid white wolf that observed the shamaness through the other side of the river had lost it's patience, releasing a sharp bark in her direction. She turned around, cocking her head to the side, observing the animal intently. The wolf turned it's head to stare at the Mag'har, and when she followed. Juna gasped as an orc, fel-tainted with blood red eyes blazing had appeared right in front of her. As it lunged it's axe towards the shamaness, everything blacked out again.

As she awoke this time, she was lying back in her bed, in her tent, but something was different. Her blanket wasn't neatly folded as she'd prepare it, rather it clumsly wrapped over her body. Next to her bed, an orc fully clad in armor, that she'd recognize as one of the Earthshaker Grunts, watched over her.

"You left your tent", he grunted, "and passed out for an entire day shortly after that."

"I... What?" Her visions had never affected her so. She had never felt so fragile inside her own mind, safe for one other time; When visting Blade's Edge, she momentarly saw the death of the dragons in the past, felt their pain, causing her great distress and making her develop a phobia of the creatures.

Juna had to find out what that vision meant. And she wouldn't do that there; Despite the amount of shamans gathered in the earthshaker clan, she knew the only one that could teach her the meaning of her vision was one of her clan. Immediately after thanking the grunt and sending him away, Juna prepared for what would be a long voyage. Without meeting any of the Hunt, or Dagrim, in the process, she merely left a note stating she would return after a few weeks, and set off.

Juna was the leader of The Hunt, but it wasn't by choice at first. She knew the day she'd abandon her kin would arrive, as it was her nature. She didn't stay in one place, she drifted. Where the spirits told her to move to, she would, without looking back. And she did. Dagrim, Jezzan, Mouma, Urzhad, Bragdana, Vaethor and all her friends would be dearly missed, but she had a mission. Juna Windcaller was a shaman, a servant of the spirits. She couldn't be kept away from this task. They would simply have to understand.

She made her way outside the crater with heavy steps, taking with her only her armor and sword, both mementos of her clan. Her journey to understand what was expected of her from her people and her ancestors had only began, and up to now, the only thing she was sure of was that her head was going to kill her.

[Uthaniel]

(Note: The following post contains dragon age quotes, although they may be somewhat edited, they'll still be shamelessly similar.)

The journey had been tiring, but fulfilling. Making her way through the world, and towards her place of birth reminded the shamaness of her passion for travel. She enjoyed the solitude of the road, whispers in the air, animals pacing about the land; For too long she had been confined to the crater, and she had already explored every nook and cranny of it.

Once she arrived on Alterac Valley, she was immediately greeted by the grunts there. Some where childhood friends, others even younger; Although not of advanced age herself, Juna was old enough to have seen a few adults in their younger years.

Life was... Easier, among the Frostwolves. Peaceful, away from the wars and meaningless struggles, although that was long gone. She had willingly given away this peace on her own to follow Thrall, and later, to join the Horde, fighting for it. It felt odd, weird, to return after so much time had passed; She found herself lost within her own memories of the place, almost momentarily forgetting the reason why she had returned.

Asking around, she learned the location of her previous master, Nek'thar, and how to find her. Apparently, shortly after she finished Juna's training so many years ago, she moved to a more isolated place in the valley for meditation, away from the clan and even further away from the war.

Reaching Nek'thar's cave wasn't as hard as Juna percieved it initially. Although filled with slow and tricky trails, she was used to walk around the valley from her childhood, and could easly avoid most traps that would capture the unaware adventurer. Finding Nek'thar, however, proved complicated. She had hidden herself within a cave formed by multiple connected tunnels, a literal natural maze. It took a few hours of wandering before Juna heard a familiar voice not far from where she stood.

"Well, well. What have we here?"

The younger shamaness smirked. Tilting her head, trying to make something out of the shadows that surrounded her, she replied within a half snort.

"A nutty old bat." She narrowed her eyes. "And her apprentice."

Nek'thar chuckled as she revealed herself. Still clad in the same dirty blue robe, with white adornings in the shape of doves, as Juna remembered from her childhood, a wooden staff and a permanent snide smirk on her lips that never faded away.

"If only a clever tongue was all one needed." She peered at Juna. "Tell me, clever child. Why did you come here? Why do you seek me?"

The vision in itself had by then faded from Juna's mind much like a dream, although she remembered what it was to experience it; And that was what mattered the most. When reported to her master, the older orc's smile simply widened a bit.

"You've kept it." She nodded at the hilt of the sword tied to Juna's back. "Your memento."

The apprentice inclined her head for a moment. "Aye. 'Twas a gift from my people, and the embodiment of my loyalty to them." Nek'thar's eyes closed for a second, before she nodded at the ground in front of her. "Leave it here, with me, for now. You won't be returning home so soon, young one. There's too much we need to go through."

Although puzzled, Juna obeyed, placing the sword in front of her teacher, that smiled amiably at her in return.

"Tell me, child; Of your travels, of what you've learned. Then, I can tell you what comes next."

The rest of the evening was filled with Juna's tales of her group, Jezzan's clingy behavior, Bragdana's descent, Urzhad's embarrassment and specially Dagrim, something that caused the Farseer to remark how close she seemed to her, which in turn made Juna simply smirk to herself for a moment. After hours of conversation, the farseer set aside a bit of straw covered by a cloth for Juna to sleep in. She drifted quietly and quickly into sleep, for the first time in weeks, truly feeling like she was home.

[Uthaniel]

When she woke up the following morning, Nek'thar was nowhere to be seen, although that was no particular surprise. Her sword, gone with the farseer, made her somewhat nervous. The wolfblade had made her feel safe up to that day, as a symbol of her people's blood, power, honor and purity flowing through her veins.

She walked outside with wary pace, spotting her master along with her sword. It was stuck to the ground near the edge of the slope the caves were located in, Nek'thar standing not far from it.

"Good morning, child." The farseer smiled at her. "I believe it's time to start your training."

Juna cocked her head to the side, puzzled. "I apologize, Elder. Training? I merely came to you searching for an answer, I-"

"You request something of me, I request you to indulge me in turn." Her smile took somewhat of an impish turn. "Is that not a fair deal?"

Juna was much too used to her master to know there was no way around it. With a bow of her head and a small sigh, she paced towards the elder. "Well then. What should I do?"

"You'll have to go on a journey, child. By it's end, your answer will come to you." She placed her hand on the younger shamaness' shoulder. "And there's one condition; You can not use your abilities, you can not ask the spirits for help, during this trip."

Juna narrowed her eyes a bit. "Why? I understand wanting me to do you a favor in exchange for what I want to know, but you're asking me to forsake my entire training. How is this worth it?"

Nek'thar chuckled in response. "You'll just have to trust me, child."

And there we went again. Nek'thar had the same cryptic attitude as other older shamans, and now that she was a Farseer she seemed to have taken that an entire step further. It frustrated the younger shamaness, that she was always kept in the dark and forced to go through her master's crazy endeavors. Nonetheless, she was far too used to it by now to know better than refuse. Her method of training was weird at best, but effective.

"Now, Juna, heed what I ask of you. You can not ask anyone else for help on this trip but yourself; Your solitude will bring to you knowledge, and then you'll understand why I send you on this journey. Once you return to me, you'll have changed - And we'll stand as equals."

"I... Huh?" Juna furrowed her brow. "What do you mean by that? I'm going to turn into an old woman?" She grinned, but her master's expression surprisingly didn't change.

"What you have to know, child, you'll know when the time is right. Was this not the manner in which I've taught you?"

With a groan and a shrug, she nodded and paced towards the blade. Nek'thar's hold on her arm became stronger, making her stop. "No, child. You can only rely on yourself - not even your clan."

"No powers, no weapon, and no armor? You're asking me to -die-, Far seer. Not learn."

"If you die, then it only proves you were both unprepared to understand your vision, or to act upon it." Nek'thar's tone was deadly serious for probably the first time in Juna's entire life. This made her wary of the meaning behind her master's words.

And so, Juna was tasked with the quest to find several orcish graveyards around Azeroth and Draenor, and meditate in each and everyone of them for an entire day before moving on. But first, now that she had been given the chance to travel, she decided to return to the crater momentarily, to tell her friends of her predicament. She departed with no sword, no armor - as it was left behind in exchange for a robe at the frostwolf encampment, and a promise to never use her powers until the journey was complete. And she just knew the trip back home wouldn't be fun at all.

[Uthaniel]

((NOTE: From this point ownards, Reese777 and ChampionMouse will be assisting with the training. However, since Jezzan (Reese's character) part is that of a bystander, his posts will be placed after mine, highlighted and in italic. My post word count will be 600 or more regardless of the length of Jezzan's actions, to make it fair. Mochla will be acting as Juna's trainer, as it will be explained within the post.))

It didn't take long to meet everyone the shamaness had to meet in the crater. Somewhat nostalgic even before she left, Juna knew she wouldn't be coming back for a long time; She could only hope her friends would handle things while she was gone.

The shamaness was proven wrong, however, as she reached the ends of the border between the Crater and Azshara. Waiting for her, sitting atop a large white wolf by the wooden gate, was Mochla Stormcaller - Farseer of the Earthshakers. An impish half-smile was on her lips that momentarily reminded Juna of her own teacher. As Juna stood there, Mochla guided the wolf over and greeted the confused shamaness.

"Throm'ka, Sister," said the Farseer. Never once did that knowing smile leave her face. Was it true what Dagrim had said about smiling Earthshakers being mischievous?

Juna inclined her head in immediate reverence; "Aka'magosh, Farseer."

Though they had just spoken casually days ago, Juna realized her lack of cordiality before; What she would be willing to try and fix now. The Farseer did not react to this, or at least didn’t comment on the sudden change of attitude. If she was bothered by it, Mochla kept it to herself. "You're Nek'thar's student, no? When we spoke the other day I heard you mention her name, but I did not get to speak of it with you." Mochla eyed Juna’s features with curiosity, studying her facial expressions intently.

"Yes, Farseer."

"Nek’thar is an old acquaintance of mine. She had sent me word of you, not soon after you arrived." Mochla urged the wolf to pace around Juna, letting it pad along at a slow deliberate pace. The bright pink tongue hung lazily out of its mouth, but there was no mistaking the danger present in those jaws.

"Oh? I didn't know." She lifted her head, trying to spot Mochla, through the Farseer was guiding the wolf behind her at the time; Juna instead froze in place rather awkwardly.

"The road that lies ahead of you is a dangerous one. When you walk alone, you will find that tasks involving the spirits become especially treacherous. It is for this reason, I believe, that Nek’thar asked to help you, to spare you the long journey to your home in Alterac, a place so far from your friends. We agree that you should have the option to consult someone…closer.”

Juna blinked. "I... Couldn't impose. It wouldn't be right to force you to do th-"

" Believe me, if I didn’t wish to willingly help you then I would not offer in the first place. I am merely proposing an arrangement that could be better for you. You are free to refuse, of course.” Mochla chuckled to herself, amused by Juna’s demeanor.

"I... It'd be my honor, Farseer."

"Do not let me keep you then. You have much to do and a long road ahead of you. Go to these graveyards and gather their wisdom. Return to me after each visit and we will see if I have something to share to you then. Or perhaps, better yet, you will have something to share with me." Mochla chuckled. "I will wait eagerly for your return."

Juna nodded and paced towards and outside the gates; Mochla was completely silent as she went, smile still on her lips as she turned to ride back towards the Hold. “Aka’magosh, Juna,” she uttered quietly to herself, “Aka’magosh…”

The next few days of the journey would be tranquil, if unsettling. Juna would feel fragile and unprotected at all times, the lack of weaponry and without the caress of the spirit's whispers on her skull. Often she'd awake in the night with nightmares she'd soon forget, shivering and covered in sweat. Hunting for food was the easy part. Most creatures on the human woods were weak critters compared to the wolfs she'd hunt in Alterac; Her hands were enough.

That took her back to her pet wolf, Snowflake, that she hadn't seen in years. It was a frostwolf rite of passage to tame one of the beasts the clan is named after - a frost wolf, once the child reached certain age. Juna left hers behind Alterac, and did not see her when she went to meet with Nek'thar.

She realized that the sleepless nights and lonely road gave her more than enough time to be lost in her own imagination. Her thoughts drifted to everything; From remembering past battles to picturing how her life would be if she wasn't a shaman; This made the travel a bit easier to bear, despite the terror her once beloved habit had become.

Before long, despite feeling like an eternity, Juna approached the first stop of her journey; Lordamere.

Jezzan's side:

No! This is not Juna's role! She must be the leader and the leader she must be! What could possibly be so important that she would cast aside her duties to the family? Wait, they WERE family, weren't they? Were they? Confound it all! Nevertheless, Jezzan the Repairman had been overjoyed to see Juna again. Since their excursion to that loa-forsaken pit of despair and unnaturalness and evil and mean-stuff and giant things of earth that sometimes try and step on you and... well... it was Outland, anyway, he had not seen Juna in ages, having pretty much been stuck in Azshara Crater for fear of the unnatural. It wasn't because he needed to spy on those demonic succubi training with their slender arms and divine legs and pretty silver eyes. Honest! Anyways, he had been making his rounds with feeding the crocodiles kept for the arena when he had seen her radiant figure, so still as it always was. Perhaps it would be best to try again after all...

Creep up nice and slowly... That was imperative. Loud footsteps cannot happen or she'll hear them. With her gorgeous ears.

Lower yourself just so onto the log-bench... If she felt the weight, then she'd open her eyes and see him.

Extend your arm gently and put it around herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-

"Hello, Jezzan."

Blast! How did she do that?!

It was then that the bomb was dropped. She was leaving to go do something that she couldn't say and abandoning her role as the leader, placing Urzhad in charge. Urzhad! He wasn't the leader! He was the guy who spoke tenderly to that soft-furred vixen! Oh, such soft fur. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. What's more, she did not hold a full re-evaluation of the group. Nobody could bypass such an important step, right? RIGHT?! Surely not! This entire situation was madness. Jezzan needed sense, good and proper.

So! There was only one course of action.

He was going to have to follow her.

Something that turned out easier than he thought it'd be. He had assumed his favorite stealth position, army crawling with your butt in the air, and so far it had worked wonders. Sure, the occasional stare from some patrolling Orc or training Demoness, but otherwise, spot on. Juna herself had gone to speak to another... oh My Sweet Loa. She had gone to speak to an Orc that radiated terrible power... and beauty. She was so... so... She was so! But which one was the more beautiful? Nonsense, Jezzan had love for all of the female creatures, this was common knowledge. But just thinking about the two of them together... talking... Oops.

And after senselessly wrestling his rising unmentionables back to dormancy, they were done talking and Juna had set out. The next few days Juna had looked distant. Nonsense! Juna had always looked distant. She was a leader, after all! Leaders can't be too focused. But then what about Leto the Bigman? He was always focused on his charges. So would Jezzan be, if his charges happened to be a plethora of trollish beauties such as his. Oh, it set his tusks atumble, it did! Back to Juna. She had no food, no weapons, and apparently little room for clothes that covered up properly. She just looked so... so vulnerable.

Oops. Back again.

Still, though he had to battle his unmentionables many a time, there was still the unnaturalness of what she was doing. Her conversation with the siren that was that other Orc, Jezzan didn't hear her name, revealed little about her goals, and though one of her goals were surviving, owing to the crushing of small animals' skulls with her bare hands (Oops. Back again.) she gave no inklings as to where she was headed and why her clothes were getting so ski-No. Not this time. Not again. Oops. He lied. Again.

But enough about her. Wait, what was he saying?! It was always about her. She was the divine hand of the Loa, come to this earth to grace his cheek with her hand and her lips. Of course, she hadn't done that yet... Naturally, he was unworthy at this time. That or he wasn't trying hard enough. Of course! It was so simple! Thus he took it into his list of goals to make her journey more comfortable. She needs more food! Done, berry bushels she didn't manage to find! Let's get a bit of those, and put 'em by her camp while she's sleeping. She looks cold! Done, let's... Huh... how would he make her warmer? Dear Loa no... he mustn't reveal his presence! But she needed his warmth! Oops. Back again.

Aha! There's a solution! To tend the fire she makes before going to sleep long after she herself had agreed to let it die. This was dangerous work, and even the slightest stir from her induced wild eyed panic fleeing back into the woods. Luckily, the Earth helped him in this endeavor, covering up his tracks. At least she was warmer. She looked so comfortable and content, sleeping there like that. She even had a light smile playing upon her soft, tender lips. Oops. Back again. He really had to do something about this problem...

Jezzan himself had been doing his best to stay alive himself, never mind making her journey more comfortable. Okay, that was a lie, it really was all about her. This has been told before. To rephrase, he needed to see to his own needs as well. Therefore, it was time to tell HIS story. It had begun as, since he really had no idea where she was going or how he would provide for himself, stealing the scraps she left out for the wolves and living off those, sometimes having to run from a wolf because it saw him stealing its meal. Irrelevant. He regretted nothing. Then it became that as well as foraging for apples and berries and other such delicacies. Jezzan always could find the plants he needed. He guessed it was because of their connection to the Earth, but this was just a guess. He managed to be quite content living near Juna's camps every night, save the occasional wolf attack, bear attack, saber attack, whimsical branch on the road attack, squirrel attack. Oh yes. It happened. And it hurt. A lot.

And finally, she came upon her destination. Which was... which was... which was a place. Yes.

[Uthaniel]

(Warning: Gigantic post inbound. Have fun.)

Lordamere internment camp. In a time that felt to Juna like hundred ago, although it had been only a few years ago, orcs were kept captive by humans as slaves. Juna knew that to her, in the safety of the frostwolves, the notion was arguably different. To the other orcs, it likely felt like weeks, days, since they were last in shackles.

Juna knew nothing of what happened on the interment camps or the lethargy that affected her people. As she made her way through the abandoned grounds in utter silence, she glanced around constantly, as if expecting one of the human lords that once took care of those camps to jump at her with whips and cuffs.

She trod her way to through the snow-covered camp, wincing every now and then as the fruits of winter made her feet too cold to bear.

As soon as she got to the middle of the camp, however, things changed. Her head felt like it was about to split right open; Feeling she immediately recognized as the vision that caused her to start on this journey on the first place. The pain was strong enough to make the shamaness fall onto her knees and scream. Nobody heard, apparently, as nobody came to help her; Of course. There were no living souls anywhere near where she was. Just before she lost consciousness, however, she could have sworn she saw movement. Then, only darkness.

As she came to, the whole view had changed. The snow had melted, and there orcs around - Many, many orcs around, with simply a small force of humans watching over them from the watchtowers. Not enough to prevent an escape. - Why?

When she actually took her time to look at the orcs around her, her world fell apart. Lethargic. Weak. Even somewhat cowardly - The husks she stared at reminded her neither of the peaceful mag'har - despite the peace she saw - or the vengeful orcs she knew - despite the anger she felt.

They did not live, they simply existed. Some were even sitting on their own filth, giving no care for their surroundings; They simply moved on, nothing like the warriors they once were.

"Wh- What?" Juna never thought, in her entire life, that she'd miss the bloodlust characteristic in her race. More than that, she felt herself reveling on it as she growled, fists hammering against wooden fences, attempting to punch humans out of their posts, she even thought of breaking her promise and call upon the spirits - But she didn't once she realized nothing she did even mattered. Nobody paid attention to her, and her fists simply went through anything she tried to touch. Of course - The vision had to run it's course, and she had no choice but to allow it.

However, it appeared as if a single one of them had the same mindset as she did. He stood up from the ground where he sat, and walked right to the spot where she was standing, their faces close although he was oblivious to this fact, as she recognized him - Thrall, her chieftain and warchief.

Thrall raised his hands high in the sky as thunder shot through, taking down all nearby humans while the orcs - and Juna herself - looked in awe. One after another, the powers of the shaman riled the former warriors up, causing them to take arms and fight for their freedom.

Juna remembered this day - She fought in it. She wasn't a shaman back then, hardly a human. The lost of her kin enraged her, and she only wanted revenge. She glanced as the mountains, her suspicious rang correct. Frostwolves, Warsong, the armies of the orcs swooped down from behind the mountains to attack the camp by surprise. She knew she had taken part in this fight, but she couldn't see herself in there; There were far too many of them to pay attention. She knew, however, she felt different.

Before, she only saw the humans. The enemy to be taken down. The fight would wet her appetite, make her eager for more - Now, what she wanted the most was to leave the world the spirits had locked her in. She would not have this service, however, and would instead have to watch the battle to the end. Every human or orc taken down felt to her as if her dearest family member had been murdered in from of her. Depression, sadness rang within herself as the world seemed to blur.

As she came to, Juna was no longer in the middle of the camp where she had collapsed on. She was laying on top of some sort of make-shift bed, a fireplace well kept in front of her, and meat prepared for her to eat. As she shook off the last remnants of her headache from her, she realized now that this vision, unlike the other one, was still engraved into her mind; She could remember it perfectly, and the feelings that rushed through her reminded her even more of what she had to go through.

Juna got up and ate without cerimonies. Whoever was taking care of her had clearly given up just a few hours after seeing her - As they were nowhere to be seen, but she could tell the flames had been tended after neatly.

A shame, she thought, as she would very much like to meet her savior. However, she had little time to daydream - She had to go back to Mochla and the Crater, to tell her of her latest vision.



Jezzan's part:

Whatever this place, it reeked of evil and despair, maybe a little forlornness, and most definitely humans. He knew that smell anywhere. Humans have a very distinct smell. They smell like... well... they smell like... they smell like Humans. 'Nuff said.

Whatever the scent, Juna herself had made her way through the camp rather quietly. Of course, she had always been quiet. It's how she normally caught him looking-Well, she was quiet, anyways. Quiet and even a little scared? NO. A leader could not be scared! They were incapable of being scared! It was not their role to be scared!

But then... there was that one time at that one place...

Azshara Crater, to be exact. As whimsical as could be, Jezzan had been acting whimsical when Juna had appeared as she always does, quietly, catching him as he-SHE WAS QUIET, ALRIGHT? But things soon got very different, very different indeed. She told him about the Stonetalon Mountains, first where they were, then where that was, and then what composes it, and then where those places were individually, and THEN what happened. There had been a great war between the two factions of Night Elves, Succubi, and Orcs. Very bloody, very ruthless. She hadn't participated directly in the battle, he understood, or didn't understand. Whichever. She had, however, been to the aftermath of the battlefield, and the sheer amounts of corpses had unnerved her. He naturally cheered her up with hugs, soft words, maybe a back-rub, making sweet love under the moon, the stars, a random bartender serenading them with ballads of love and beauty-Whoa, that fantasy sure got away from him.

Nevertheless, that experience really made Jezzan worry that Juna wasn't really a leader after all. These worries are usually banished by assurances and sexual fantasies, as they were being now (Oops, back again,) but just looking at Juna now... She looked so vulnerable, so fragile, so cold, so beautiful, so ravishing, so nearly-nude (Does it even need saying what's back again?), so-screaming? So screaming? Who was screaming? Was he screaming? He might've been screaming. This was a very scream-able place. But no, most said his screams sounded like that of a little schoolgirl. This scream was distinctly more Juna-ish, for it was accompanied by a beauteous shrill tone that could only be from Juna. Except screaming was scary. So now it was his turn to scream, but it was a jumpy scream, the kind that is usually only associated with minimal fleeing. It afforded for some thinking on what was going on.

And it dawned on him...

Juna was in need!

Fear not, Love, your one true man has come!

He rushed towards her, collapsed and partially nude as she was (Oops. Back again. There wasn't time!) Work to do, and work it was time for. He had to do something to keep her comfortable! She was partially nude (Settle down, you!) and she was lying in the snow. He hadn't brought any excessive skins with him, so he had to improvise.

Good Loa, did he have to kill something?

He had to kill something, didn't he?

Jezzan was never good at killing. The only thing that ever died around him was a lady's interest. But this wasn't the time to say how hard things were going to be! Juna was in need! In need of her dashingly handsome Troll! Thus he rushed off into the woods, looking for what had so discourteously attacked him before while he was trying to remain stealthy. Really, all he did was sit on the thing. The state of the world today.

Anyways, that big fat bear was busy drinking near where it slept in a creek, and Jezzan crawled his way out of the brush opposite to the creature.

"'Ayo! Ju! Bear! Dyon't be takin' dis personally, but ah be needin' ju fur."

The bear looked up, saw Jezzan, and immediately let out a rawr and charged. Yep, it was time to run. But he couldn't run! He needed the bear's fur for Juna, his beloved! Just like that, a floating ghostly skull of fear and rhymes appeared next to him, floating as it always did.

And the conscience skull spoke:

"If you wish to have the maiden's love, you'll have to vanquish this evil gov'. Lest you ne-LOOKOUTYOUIDIOT."

Too late.

The bear hit into him, trampling him and smothering him in what appeared to be leaves, though he daren't guess what else inhabited the bottom of a bear's belly. Nonetheless, it didn't appear to want to bite into his head and decapitate him. Always a good sign! Things were looking up!

Except the bear wanted another go, and was now charging again. Jezzan was ready this time! Oh yes! He totally had a plan!

This "plan" ended up being running some more. But it turned into something prosperous! The bear underestimated the might of Jezzan the Repairman! That or it just didn't expect him to jump when it got close in his haste to get away. Either way, he was now riding it. What now, you may ask?

HIT IT REPEATEDLY WITH YOUR STAFF.

And that's just what he did.

The bear's skull now crushed by snake-staff-of-doom, he was able to extract and clean the furs he needed, albeit with a little trouble, such as the infamous 'what the hell do I do now?' syndrome. But then he thought, perhaps Juna'd be hungry when she wakes? So he took a bit of meat along with him.

And thus he left the partially nude Juna (You still there? Good, BECAUSE HE'S NOT DOING ANYTHING OF IMPORTANCE NOW. C'MERE YOU.) with enough comfort when for when she wakes up, while he takes care of those pesky unmentionables!

[Uthaniel]

The journey back was uneventful. Juna's dreams were vivid, however, as she constantly reviewed the vision she had witnessed in Lordamere. What could it mean, and for what purpose she relieved the event, was unknown to her.

She could swear, however, hearing faint whispers in the wind, on her skull, every now and then. It was impossible for the elements to be talking to her as she refrained from using their bond per Nek'thar's request - She also knew how the whispers of the elements felt, and these were foreign to her. Words in orcish, she could swear, mumbled by no one in particular. It bothered her a bit, but not as much as the vision she had seen - and that was the most important part.

As soon as she reached the crater, Juna seeked the Earthshaker Hold and Mochla; She hadn't even slept since reaching the crater yet, and got increasingly nervous every second Mochla took to arrive.

“I trust your journey was fruitful?” Mochla inquired abruptly. Her approach had not been obvious, but yet there she was sitting in front of the bonfire as if she had been there for hours already. She held her hands up to the flames for warmth before looking back over her shoulder at Juna. “You are nervous, though that is to be expected.” It was clearly more of a statement than a question, and surprise was nowhere to be found in her voice.

"I'm... Alright. As soon as I reached Lordamere, Elder, something happened. I... Saw something." Juna shook her head, as if trying to brush the vision away. "It was different. Real. I lived it, but didn't. Nothing I touched reacted to me, and yet, it felt as if I actually stood there. Smell, taste, heat, everything surrounding me was just like... Life."

Juna would proceed to relate the vision to Mochla, that this time she remembered in detail, and after she was done, she simply went deathly quiet, as if expecting the farseer to shed light and solve all of her problems.

“Ahh yes, as Frostwolves most of us never had to experience the lethargy of the internment camps firsthand, but even now the memories haunt the majority of our people. Such a sad tale to tell. Were it not for the Warchief bringing Shamanism back to our people things could have turned out much differently. You know this, however. All Orcs should know these things.” Mochla paused, rubbing her chin as Juna looked at her with those eyes eager for answers. She turned back to the fire and exhaled sharply with a loud “Hummm.” She folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head off to one side. “Tell me, Juna, why do you think you were shown these things? Why this particular vision?”

"I... I don't know. The orcs that died in the camps, maybe? Our ancestors, trying to show me how easily pride can be shattered, or recovered? To hate the humans...?"

“You are both right and wrong at the same time. Reality is a complicated mesh of perception and truths. Answer this question for me, if you would: why do you think the Warchief so quickly took up arms to fight the humans despite his usually “softer” demeanor?”

Juna frowns. "...Warchief Thrall. He seemed different than the few times I saw him - don't get me wrong, it was from a distance, usually in battle; Never spoke to him. He always looked to me, peaceful, tranquil, even surrounded by enemies, yet there he looked... Angered. Does that mean he doesn't follow his own ideals, Farseer? Does that mean that in the end, even shamans are just... Brutes?"

A frown briefly flutters across Mochla’s face, but it is only temporary. “Again, you are both right and wrong. There are many sides to truth. You will understand this, given proper time and experience.” Mochla rubs her temples with the tips of her fingers. “You will see before the end,” she says softly, offering Juna a friendly smile.

"I'm... I'm sorry. Both you and master are trying to get me to see something I can't. I feel as if I'm the only blinded person in the world; Something glaringly obvious to everyone except me is all around us, and I'm stupidly ignorant of it." The shamaness sighs, exhausted.

Mochla couldn’t help but chuckle at Juna’s frustration. It was a soft, subdued sound, but there nonetheless. “You, my Juna, are on a journey that every one of us must go on at some point. Life has many twists and turns, but it leaves us only with two real choices. We change, adapt, learn, and become stronger for it; or we give up, fail to see, and ultimately perish under the strength of those that have succeeded.” She chuckled again, still apparently amused by these thoughts. “You will change. One must change in order to grow. Your journey will show you the way, as will your visions. Trust me when I say you will become better, and if not that, then certainly stronger.”

Juna furrows her brow, puzzled. Deciding to pass Mochla's words as the natural wisdom of an elder, she inclines her head and smiles, shortly before being dismissed to resume her activities, and meet her friends in the crater before going away to her next destination. As she left, however, she knew just what the first thing she'd do would be; Go to bed, rest, and eat as much as she could when she woke up.


Jezzan's Side:

It had been an interesting time for Jezzan, to say the least. The journey had been fun, and exciting, barring the occasional assault from bears, sabers, branches, that poison ivy, squirrels, and pretty much anything that moved. He never understood why his presence was so un-tolerated amongst Nature. Sure, he steps on a few nests, maybe steals a slab of meat or two. That's no reason to hate a man, is it?

Anyways, they were finally home, and Jezzan, for one, was glad to be amongst the familiar.

This also gave Jezzan a momentary respite for reflection. What had he learned from stalking his leader so obsessively? Well, she looked good naked, for one. That was a given. She could kill an animal with her bare hands. Well, what else were those bulging Orc muscles for? She fainted in the middle of spooky ruins. This was new. She'd never done so in his experience, and he usually spent his time with/around/stalking her. Most revealing!

Nevertheless, Juna herself had gone to speak to that sexy thing, and they were talking. He was not close enough to make out the words, but he was fairly sure they were talking dirty to each other. After all, what else could they be doing? Surely not discussing recent events or anything logical like that. Surely not.

And thus Jezzan watched and waited, self reflected and occasionally wrestled his unmentionables into submission, ending this incredibly short post for lack of a further thing to do.

[Uthaniel]

The week passed by faster than Juna wanted it to pass. After resting at the Crater, she set off again, to the next step of her journey.

Taking with her clothes and minor supplies, she began making her way to Hammerfall, the second "graveyard" Nek'thar told her to seek.

Although prepared for a long and uneventful journey, Juna was proven wrong. She realized, about halfway through, that she was being followed. And it wasn't someone very good at it; Loud sounds, bushes ruffling, and moreso than once she saw someone running through the forest right next to her. After putting it up to see what her stalker would do, she decided she had enough.

"Come here and I promise I won't eat you."

And they did. Two kids, orcish, glared at her. The older spoke.

"I... I'll kill you!"

Neither seemed much older than five years of age; Juna simply chuckled weakly at the notion of children attacking her. A girl called Mon'a and a boy called Rek'tan.

Upon further inquiry, she learned they fled Hammerfall to play in the nearby woods, and got lost. Deciding to dismiss a comment or two at the child's cunning, Juna agreed to be their guide for the following days.

They would often chat during night, around the campfire, before going to bed. The shamaness would indulge the children with tales of the spirits, shamans, and wars; Until she finally came to tell them her own tale.

"So you're a shaman, Juna?" Rek'tan seemed impressed.

"Yes."

"And you're on a mission? For the spirits?"

"...Well, yes and no. I'm on a mission for my master, which likely was guided by the spirits. Or by her own insanity." Juna rolls her eyes.

"Could you teach us?" Mon'a seems hopeful.

Juna blinks, eyebrows softly raising in surprise. "Teach you? Teach you what?"

"How to be a shaman!"

"Oh, dear. I wish I could, if that counts." She chuckles.

"Aw, why not?"

"It's a training that takes years. It's not something I can teach you two nights away from home."

"Then... I'll find a teacher on my own, and then you can teach me what you know!"

Juna chuckles again. Given the orcish tendencies, she was painfully aware that the after the decade it'd take for the child to recieve training and reach adulthood, she would likely have passed away already. Orcs don't tend to live long, given that they also tend to try to stick a sword onto anything that moved.

"Sure, sure. I don't see harm in that."

"It's settled then."

"Of course it is. Go to sleep."

Juna herself managed to rest fully the nights the children accompanied her, company being refreshing during her solitude. When they reached Hammerfall, they went to find their father, and Juna...

...Juna went to find out where the heck she was supposed to go this time.

Seeing no vision, Juna decided to help around camp instead. She aided the orcs with minor repairs, blacksmithing, tailoring and cooking, as well as taking care of the children, which Juna did not hide enjoying. In more than one way, she felt as a common orcish woman during that evening, and it brought her a certain conformity. She had always been a warrior, a leader; To orcs, male and female warriors held the same worth, and usually led the same life. She had never before felt what was like to live as a commoner, someone who did not have to wake up wondering who they'd fight that day, whose life they'd take. Or if their life would, instead, be taken.

Regardless, night soon arrived, and after biding the children goodnight, Juna went to the bed she was offered, exhausted. She believed to have found nothing in Hammerfall, and it was time to move on.


Jezzan's side:

Life returned to slow normalcy for Jezzan. He fed the crocolisks, and occasionally hugged them, an action that generally results in the running and screaming bits that tend to stand out in a place of spiritual contemplation. He spied on the succubi, and then began to bleed through his nose when they turned towards him with their 'what in the world is he doing?' look, obviously proof of their demonic magics hurting him, the scoundrels.

He also didn't seem to keep up on Juna.

After trying to spy on her as she bathed and being unsuccessful, it seemed as though she had finally come to her senses and returned to her role. She did nothing out of the ordinary for the next two weeks, and gradually Jezzan ceased stalking her and went on to doing, well, just doing what he did.

The he realized she was doing nothing out of the ordinary because she had left and he didn't notice...

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

And so, Jezzan had to set out and follow her! ... Again.

First things first, he needed to find her. Thus came the shaking down of random guards (and Succubi, though he tended to avoid these as to keep them from using their demonic abilities). Many of them stared at him like he was mad, BUT HE WOULD HAVE THE TRUTH FROM THEIR LYING TONGUES. HE WOULD. He found that she was heading towards a place he didn't care to know about and set off on the road to follow.

Days past until he finally came upon her. And she was with, AND SHE WAS WITH, children?

Juna had children? This was an interesting development! If she had children, then she was in an improper role after all! It also meant that she was with someone else. And so began the night of quite audible sobbing, quite close to her camp too. He had to fix this! He had to! He had to END THEM. End them, though? No, he had to take care of them! That was more euphemistic, and more euphemistic was his middle name. No, wait, his middle name was 'the.' His mistake.

Thus as she slept he concocted a devious plan of planning, and it required several parts to achieve, which he soon acquired.

Mon'a and Rek'tan woke to pebbles being thrown at them, and then found pieces of candy leading away from the camp. They went back to sleep.

His plan didn't work.


((I just have to add here.
Jezzan is a firetruckin' evil genius.))

[Uthaniel]

((Pathetic attempt at drama, go!

Also, this post was written while listening to this song. Maybe it'll add to the mood. Maybe it won't.

Spoiler:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YxaaGgTQYM[/youtube]

))

Juna awoke to swords prodding at her back. As she opened her eyes, three human guards stood in front of her. She immediately recognized she was in a dream, a vision - As time seemed to had flown backwards around her.

The weird part was the fact the guardsmen seemed to react to her, know she was there; And their swords hurt. A lot.

She groaned, realizing the cuffs in her hands and legs. Her eyes squint to the sunlight as she was dragged outside as if she had not seen it in years.

"You've caused us a lot of problems these past few months, Windcaller. It's like you're not like the rest of your people."

Windcaller? That couldn't be. She was a frostwolf. She had never seen or been in one of these camps until Thrall led them to fight them. She complied, body weary and tired. She groaned, making her way to the camp. Once they dropped her inside, two older orcs rushed towards her. Older, ragged, with a clearly tired appearance and a disgusting smell; But Juna immediately recognized her parents.

"M-mother? What are you doing h-"

She was cut short by a hug.

"Juna!" Nakra cried out, holding her daughter in her arms. "My daughter, why do you have to torture me and your father like this?"

Juna's eyes almost immediately filled with tears. Her parents died in the war. They weren't alive. Why would the spirits toy with her so?

She inclined her head. "I'm sorry, mother."

Her father was silent, like always. He patted Juna's head, ruffled her hair and smirked a bit at her, before walking back to a spot near a wall and sitting down. Even he was struck by the lethargy of those camps.

Once her mother finally let her go - and returned to tend to her father - Juna realized the spirits were testing her. Giving her a different reality to see what she'd do. And she wondered herself; What would she do? Would she try to save her people, like Thrall? Rebel, call upon the spirits for aid and fight their way out of there?

She would never get the chance to find out.

A man stood out among the other orcs again. As she recognized Thrall a second time and saw him raise his fist, Juna felt compelled by the Warchief's actions. She raised her own hand along with his, thunder echoing from both shamans as it struck down the nearby guardsman.

The surprised look of her hero brought a certain pride to her, as the forces of the New Horde invaded the camp to free their people. With a quick nod, Juna rushed to her father's side.

"A shaman, Juna? You're a shaman?" Her mother peered at her daughter as if she was looking at a complete stranger. "When did you...?"

Juna simply raised two fingers to her lips. "Not now, mother. We must get you two out of here."

She nodded, as Juna aided both her and her father up. Getting a sword from one of the fallen guards, Juna fought her way to the exit with her parents - But in her own terms. She did not kill anyone if she could avoid it. Non-lethal blows, making sure both sides would have as much survivors as possible. A mistake she'd pay dearly for.

The blow came from one of the fallen guardsmen. He flanked them, they never saw it coming. Her mother shot Juna a warm gaze, her daughter's eyes filled with desperation and on the verge of tears, as the sword drove through the older woman. "K-keep going, dear."

Her father growled. He charged in, against Juna's wishes, and bashed the guardsmen in. By the time Brok was done punching the guard, the fact he was more than a pile of red, bloody meat was hard to recognize. Juna didn't even feel the drive to move. Her mother died, because of her weakness. Because of her mercy. Why?

This would not be on her mind for long, however, as her father soon followed suit. She watched in dismay as he was struck down by three guards, all which she had spared, and fell. He yelled for her to run. She didn't.

Juna grit her teeth. What was the lesson here? Mercy was a weakness? She would lose the ones she cared for over it?

Fine.

Her grip tightened around the blade. She charged in, flames and lightning flying into the nearby soldiers as she entered the battle.

She unleashed the full fury of the spirits she was capable of. Thunder, fire, earth, wind; Her vows of mercy, of wisdom, broken. And she couldn't care less. The drive for vengeance, bloodlust - they washed over her, urged her to go further. Whether by the blade in her hands, or her powers, they would fall. Every single one of them.

Juna only got a glimpse of Doomhammer as he fell. The scenery was swept away shortly after, her father and mother stood in front of her. Not like in her vision, but as she remembered them. Strong, wise. Beautiful.

She couldn't find the will to walk towards them, the short distance feeling like and endless chasm. Her father uncharacteristically broke the silence.

"We fought and died to protect our people, our daughter. We've killed them, just like you have, but every step of the way, we did it because we thought it was the right thing."

Juna slowly raised her eyes to face her father.

"Mercy is wise, but it is also a form of arrogance. Honor lies in killing when you have to, but knowing when you don't."

She recognized those last words. He told her after the war; Shortly before his death, and her decision to take the path of a shamaness. They rung different now, however. The weight they carried felt a hundredfold; She misunderstood her father's initial lesson. And paid dearly for it.

Juna woke up with her body completely covered in sweat, as in the other cases. Her eyes were teared up, and it seemed to be the middle of the night.


She cried until dawn.

[Uthaniel]

((Could people PM me or whisper in-game their opinion on this thread? 'Cause I see a lot of views and apparently it's got a really good rating, but I have honestly no clue if I'm writing a good story or not. I'd appreciate it.))

Juna was in shambles. As she moved back to the crater, she was clearly angered by the outcome of her vision. Any animal that dared cross her path, no matter how meek or fierce, fell to fists and rage. Some of them she did not even kill out of need, but desire.

She heard the whispers crawling into her skull stronger this time. Her father's words of advice echoed in her head, but the sound of his whispers was usually deafened by the cry of the next innocent critter the shamaness mauled.

As she reached the crater, Juna sought Mochla immediately. She approached the tent warily. The farseer would certainly feel her anger. She failed the training, that much she knew. What would happen next, she didn't.

Mochla yawned and sat up from her nap. The pups were out playing already, being entertained by their father no doubt. She lifted herself from the pile of furs and moved towards the front of the tent, pushing open the flap of animal hide. Upon seeing Juna, Mochla tilted her head. “You were not expected for another evening, dear Juna. Come sit, regardless.” Mochla offers a bit of a smile. “Make yourself comfortable and tell me of your parents.”

"So you know." Juna lets out a long sigh. "I... I failed, didn't I? What was there to learn, I didn't. I gave into my rage and I... I don't even regret it."

Mochla places a hand on Juna’s shoulder. “Now you have lived through the fierce juxtaposition of mind our people are capable of. There is extreme peace of mind, but also the great bloodlust of our kin. Unlike what you seem to believe, you do not only have to seek one or the other. It is possible to live with both.”

"How? How would that even be possible? Elder, I can't understand how you can possibly expect me to live with both the darkness and light of our kin plaguing me."

Mochla waves a dismissive hand. “The world is not black and white, instead, it comes in different shades of grey.” Mochla’s words came swiftly and with certainty. Perhaps this had been a conversation she had taken part in many times before. With a bit of a smirk and a shrug of the shoulders she adds:"Mercy is wise, but it is also a form of arrogance. Honor lies in killing when you have to, but knowing when you don't."

Juna smirks. She lets out a soft, weak chuckle to herself.

"How can you know me so well when we've barely even met?"

“We share “acquaintances,” dear Juna. Spirits and Ancestors will talk to who they will. Just as watchful parents may share a bond from beyond their time.”

"Acquaintances. That's not cryptic at all." She smiles, before her expression goes grim. "...What do I do now? Do I continue? I..."

“That is for you to decide,” Mochla replies. “Do you –want- to continue?”

"...I don't know anymore. I don't know if the reward for this journey is worth it."

“Sometimes the journey is all the reward one requires.” Mochla smiles, clearly amused by her use of the old saying.

Juna chuckles. "Hah. That's old. Even Jezzan could've dropped that saying." She smirks.

Mochla laughs at that, chuckling as she rubs her chin in thought. “Even a fool can hold wisdom. Refusing to learn from anyone is the greatest form of ignorance.” She nods more to herself than to Juna, content with her reply.

Juna peers at the Farseer. "Well, okay. I hadn't heard -that- one before."

“Your journey is still incomplete, Juna. You have a long way to travel should you choose to continue down this path. If you do not, I will understand, but I believe you would be giving up the future that was meant for you.”

"Oh, that's just great." She smiles to herself. "So it's either get insane or suffer eternal damnation. Fine. I'll see this through. To get my sword back, if nothing else."

Mochla rolls her eyes in amusement. “Perhaps even your sword might represent something entirely different for you once the journey has come to an end. That is, if a journey ever truly ends.”

"That's just great." Juna chuckles a last time, before bidding Mochla farewell and leaving to the main camp. She knew the next week wasn't going to be an easy one.

[Uthaniel]

((Note: The characters depicted here are not in fact themselves. They're illusions. Mochla belongs to ChampionMouse, Bragdana to Danalthar/FlyingSquirrel, Urzhad to Spiky, and Dagrim to Xigo. If either of them wishes their character removed from this post, I'll be glad to do it (just PM me.))

Juna left the crater silently after the week passed, headed towards her third location. She knew what would come next; Grommash Hellscream's last place of resting, and her spot before Lordamere and finally, Nagrand, to meet the Mag'har.

Her travels went calmly, as she tried to now avoid murdering innocent critters. She would meet the eventual pack of rabid wolves, but they were no match. By then, Juna had already taken to a few tricks of her own.

Stones and wood made for good spears and daggers; She'd kill snapjaws and use their shells as both a shield as well as a way to gather water from the rain to drink. Wearing no armor and having to dodge blows sharpened her senses and instincts. Wolfskin, throughly cleaned and tied with a few vines also made for good armor (better than none, at least.) She'd try to use as much of the animals as she could, and would always offer a prayer and a proper burial to their remains when done.

Juna reached Ashenvale's borders, wary to meet any elven opposition. Luckily, she met none, and reached the orcish camp without too much difficulty. As she finally approached the monument to Grommash Hellscream, Her vision immediately blurred - And that was not good. She heard voices before she fell, and saw armor. Humans. Why were they there, she couldn't tell.

Juna dragged herself to the woods before passing out, but she did not stand too far from the monument they approached as well. She collapsed just before one of them started speaking.


The shamaness recognized the following scene very well, although she had never seen or participated in it before. Grommash Hellscream and Thrall stood side by side, stepping warily into a canyon. A sinister laugh echoed as the demon revealed himself.

"So predictable. I knew you would come, and I see you brought the mighty Hellscream. His blood is mine, as is your whole misbegotten race!"

Thrall roared and hurled the Doomhammer at Mannoroth. To Juna's surprise and dismay, the demon parried with with one of his wings.

"A worthy effort, but futile!"

Mannoroth struck the ground with his weapon, causing both orcs to be launched. Thrall hit a rock, and fell unconscious. Grom, however, reached for Gorehowl, and glared at the demon.

"The boy believed you could be saved, but he didn't know what burns within your soul. When in your heart, you know we are the same."

Grommash roared. He charged - Just as his axe was about to hit the demon, however, the image shifted, as if Juna had been dragged to a different scenario in a blink of an eye.

Mannoroth now stood in front of her, in what could only be described as a gigantic white void around them. Next to him, bruised, hurt, chained, and on their knees, where Bragdana, Urzhad, Dagrim, and Mochla. Juna blinked. This couldn't be a vision of past, present or future - Mannoroth had died. This could only be a test, an epiphany.

Mannoroth silently walked up to the first in the line, Bragdana Bloodshatter, the Hunt's first leader. As the demon lifts his weapon and touches the Shaman's throat, Bragdana turns to peer directly into Juna's eyes, emotionless.

"You said you would be a shield. And yet, you're only ever shielded."

The movement was swift, causing the shaman's throat to be slit. Bloodshatter fell to the ground, dying on a puddle of his own blood. Juna couldn't move, or even utter a word. She was a prisoner in her own body, and could only watch.

The demon moved over to Urzhad, spear reaching for his throat in the similar fashion.

"You've said you'd be a leader. And yet, you're only ever led."

Juna could not even cringe as her guardian's throat was cut. He fell, staring at her with emotionless, blank eyes, while he choked to his death.

Mannoroth threaded over to Dagrim. The blademistress simply peered at Juna like the others, her face as if a doll.

"You've said you'd be a savior. And yet, you're only ever saved."

Their words rung true. Bragdana went as far as shield Juna from himself at one point. He showed her pity on an one on one battle he should not have; Urzhad often guided her and taught her not only the ways of a shaman, but of a leader. Dagrim would always help the shamaness and ask for nothing in turn.

As her best friend died, Juna already knew what would happen next. The demon moved to Mochla, who simply turned to Juna like all others had.

"What are you?"

She woke up just as the blade finished traveling through the farseer's throat.

((I swear to god this was posted yesterday. At least here. So it counts. >:C))

[Uthaniel]

((This post adds yet another character to the plot. Mochla belongs to ChampionMouse, Bragdana to Danalthar/FlyingSquirrel, Urzhad to Spiky, Dagrim to Xigo and Mouma to Delta. Yet again, just PM me if you wish your character removed from here, and your will shall be done.))
((Addendum: It's Sunday, August 21th here. 8 AM. I believe it says it's August 20th, 4PM servertime, so I'll wait 'till midnight to post the other post.))

Juna woke up to see that barely a second had passed - The humans had just reached the monument as she heaved herself off the ground.

The humans turned around almost immediately, hearing the bushes move and branches snap in the process. They peered at her, then among each other. Although they were young, they were three. She was one. Unarmored and unarmed. A female.

They could take her.

Juna knew what happened next. She didn't move as they started to approach, smirking among themselves having found easy prey. They were barely adults, and the shamaness didn't kill.

She'd apologize to her kin. She'd let herself be taken. Captured, killed. After all, one life had to be worth less than three.

You said you would be a shield. And yet, you're only ever shielded.

It was like her body moved on her own, and yet she coordinated and followed every movement. As soon as the first human walked into range, she lunged forward without warning, fist smashing the human's nose and making him stumble backwards, dazed.

You've said you'd be a leader. And yet, you're only ever led.

It was like she could see their movements before they even thought of moving. It took no effort to dodge the vertical slice another human tried by stepping aside, then turn her hip just enough so she could both avoid the stab coming at her back and grab the human's arm, to twist his wrist and take his blade.

You've said you'd be a savior. And yet, you're only ever saved.

Juna knew she was experiencing her kin's bloodlust, yet she was completely composed while in it. She not only could control her movements, she was calmer than she had ever been in battle before. The blade slided effortlessly against it's previous owner's throat.

She parried the diagonal swing the second human would attempt, brushing his sword away to connect a punch to his throat, and in his daze, stab through his stomach. She turned around, weaponless again, to see the first human she attacked. His face was bloodied from his nose and he didn't move, sword draw, staring at the shamaness with pleading, desperate eyes.

She walked towards him, grabbing his wrist to stop his sword as he waved it around in desperation. She twisted his wrist, causing his sword to drop to the floor, and immediately grabbed the human's throat, rising him from the floor.

What are you?

The boy hit the tree hard, crying out in pain as he slid to the floor, not moving, eyes locked into the shamaness. Juna walked towards him calmly, rearing her fist. She furrowed her brow, electricity softly cracking and hissing as it coursed through her hand.

"Lok'tar ogar."

The sickly sound of bones breaking filled the otherwise peaceful forest.

As the human fell down, finally dead, the last door had been opened. The spirits finally had managed to successfully communicate with Juna, and all the whispers they had aimed at her for years with no avail, hit her all at once.

She knelt, hands on sides of her head, as decades worth of sounds hissed through her skull. She cried out, even yelled and roared in pain, and it died down altogether after that moment. She opened her eyes to realize she could see more than her surroundings.

She saw Bragdana, dancing in celebration with his body completely covered in flames. She giggled at this even before she could be worred.

Urzhad and Mouma cuddling in one of the Crater's tents. Mouma was apparently taking great pleasure in making her mate unconformable. Like everyone did.

Dagrim, marching towards some sort of crossroad as an elder watched her in amusement.

Mochla, tending to the bonfire in the Hold as Juna usually found her. (And she could swear the farseer peered back at her for a moment, but that was impossible.)

And Jezzan. Jezzan was... Watching her?

Jezzan decided to follow her when she first left the crater, apparently. So he had been taking care of her, tending to her fires every time she went to sleep, taking care of her during her illusions? Juna smirked a bit at the thought, but decided not to confront the troll.

It'd be his failure if he knew she saw him there, and hers if she allowed his. Jezzan's role in this, thus far, was that of a silent assistant, and it should be kept that way.

It took Juna a few hours of meditation, but the initial power surge faded away, allowing her to see only with her eyes.

She smirked a bit to herself. Now that pilgrimage was finally starting to make a semblance of sense.

[Uthaniel]

((To the tauren in question: I DON'T REMEMBER YOUR NAME, FFFFFFFFFF-

So, if you do remember the session mentioned here, PM me. I'll add your name to the tale and credit you duly.))

It was like Juna had awakened to the heartbeat of the world around her. She felt as if she could feel the pulse, surging from the earth, the heartbeat of her friends, as if her head was pressed against their chest. Despite not knowing where they were, or what they were doing, she could feel them, around her. With her.

It brought her a feeling of conformity that made her feel reassured. Together with knowing Jezzan watched over her in secret (and acting oblivious to that fact), Juna would now often meditate in camp with the same feeling of safety as she would in the crater.

She could hear and speak to the spirits now. The spirits of the ancestors would speak to her daily, whenever she needed aid on what to do next. They calmed and conformed her, taught her what she had to do, helped her understand. The bloodlust of her kin, her own, peace in war, the need of both;

A conversation she had months earlier with a member of the Ebon Blade, a tauren, regarding war came to her mind.

Juna meditated in front of the bonfire as per usual. The tauren approached her and mentioned how Shamans usually knew sayings, and after briefly alluding the fact that if she said something he could understand he'd kill her, he asked her for one. It took Juna some thought, but she repeated what Nek'thar had told her years back.

"Only the dead know the end of war."

The tauren peered at her for a moment, and said himself;

"Only the living see it's consequences."

Back then, Juna simply smiled and nodded. It seemed to make perfect sense.

She added to the sentence her own conclusion;

"And yet, without war, one cannot find peace."

She smirked to herself for a moment in quiet contemplation. War was necessary, so was peace. Calm in anger, tranquility in passion, harmony in hatred. The world isn't as black and white as the shamaness colored it. The shades of grey Mochla wanted her to understand finally became as clear as day.

She decided to skip through visiting the crater and going to Lordamere. There was something for her to see there, and Juna was, for the first time in this journey, eager to find out what it was. Smirking to herself and knowing a friend had her back, she moved from the monument and towards Alterac once again.

Juna had taken a liking to hone her abilities by attempting to spy on her teacher. She'd at times be able to watch Mochla in her daily activies, and in other times not. Whether the Farseer was shutting her off on purpose or the spirits were simply sparing her certain bits of Mochla's routine was unknown to Windcaller. She merely found it interesting.

Juna would also now have a knack for dodging wild animals. It was like a gut feeling that guided her to the right path, despite knowing it was the Spirit's will. She'd often pass through savage areas without finding a single hostile by merely trusting her instinct, and at other times, the animals she'd come across would be critters and harmless.

Due to this, however, Juna had to mostly live on fruit and plants. Not that she minded, but without meat, there was little else to eat. She'd occasionally give in and hunt when the desire to eat meat was too strong, but she mostly worried about making do with what she could.

It was a few weeks later that she arrived in the Lordamere camp. It was now time to find what the spirits of the wild and the ancestors wanted her to find there, and then, head back to her teacher.