With the Legion defeated, the biggest(?) threat towards Azeroth is finally eliminated. The broken isles slowly return to everyday normalcy, no longer the centre of a desperate war. Armies are relocated, veterans finally allowed back home for a well-earned rest- and in their wake come new recruits to keep the peace and maintain political relationships.
Lindon Wolans is a 19-ish year old boy from Goldshire with a fervent desire to serve the King, and to see the world. Along with a small contingent of ten other guards, they accompany the Alliance ambassador to the taurens in Highmountain.
"But you know- Anduin, right?" There was an audible groan from the two other guards as Lindon, once more, circled back on the topic. They knew better than to dissuade him at this point. "What a guy! Same age as me, haha- but he's the King! Man, and I'm not even sergeant yet, can you believe it?" Despite their annoyance, it was hard to stay irritated- the boy wasn't bad, just hard to stop once on track. "Not that I'm not a sergeant yet I mean, but being a King, at his age? At my age! That's just... wow. The responsibility!"
They were "patrolling" past the bridges beneath Thunder totem, passing farms and tipis. There wasn't much to guard against save for the occasional oversized grub, and even then they didn't exactly put up a fight. It was more about being seen, spreading goodwill, reminding the tauren that the Alliance had been there to aid them. Naturally, the tauren here drifted towards their cousins from Kalimdor, but they were still an honourable people and welcomed Alliance diplomats with open arms.
Lindon waved towards a tauren child peeping out from a tent flap, and got a tiny wave in return. The beaming smile he shot back was like the radiant sun, reminiscent of his long golden locks pouring out beneath the standard-issue Alliance guard helmet.
The other guards would never say it directly to him, because they knew they'd never hear the end of it- but there was truly a spark of the Prince- uh, King- in Lindon. He was compassionate, kind, caring- when talking to him, he gave you his undivided interest, and truly did listen. His golden mane framed a patrician face- if you didn't know he was the son of a common baker, he could easily pass as a noble from Stormwind. They liked him despite his obsession with their new monarch- he harboured a sort of innocent goodwill, a natural tendency to see good in people. It bordered on naivete, but even so, he made you want to be the person he saw in you. He wasn't stupid by any means, just... good.
"I mean, he's got to take all these political things into consideration, alliances and so on- but I feel like I've got my hands full just taking an interest in the people here!" He greeted a passing tauren farmer, who looked bemused in a friendly manner. "And..." Lindon's voice dropped lower, his two companions just knew he was waggling his eyebrows. "I heard Anduin really likes Draenei... right? Who doesn't, right!?" His hands shot forward, making waving motions in the air, describing the hourglass figure of the purple-hued race. "Now I know what you're thinking- crazy, right? They got hooves, and everything! Tails! And horns. Really! I mean, I've not met one myself yet, seen a couple- but never talked to. Like a dialogue. Wouldn't that be something?" Lindon breathed in, wistfully. "I bet Anduin meets with draenei all day long. The Prophet Velen probably knows all kinds of royal draenei- err, do the draenei have nobility?" His eyes lit up, having never considered it beforee. "What if... we got a draenei Queen? Married to Anduin? ... King Anduin, I mean? Whoa."
He'd talked non-stop for the last fifteen minutes.. Even the most well-intentioned of comrades could scarcely put up with more than that.
"Lindon?" That was Wallace speaking, a middle-aged man who'd begun to see whites in his black beard. He was one of the few who'd seen combat before, and while not the highest rank in the contingent, still acted as a bit of a father figure to the younger recruit. "You seem to 'ave lots o' energy today- why dontcha take the Witchwood route- an' work off some steam?"
It was customary for the small groups of patrols to split up- many tauren were still a bit jumpy at groups of gathered soldiers, and while not exactly an invading force, tensions between Horde and Alliance were ever strained. Highmountain was neutral...ish, but everyone knew where their loyalties ultimately would fall.
The roads were largely safe this close to thunder totem, after all. To go alone was not seen as a real risk, except perhaps for said Witchwood route. It went north, not going the full distance but still somewhat close to the old Bloodtotem stomping grounds- the tribe that had splintered off, taking the side of the Legion. Not nice people by any stretch, but they'd been driven off and forced into hiding, only tiny cells left to huddle in deep caves and other hidey-places.
For Lindon, such a path held no fear- and if anything, it would let you see the wild beauty of the broken isles more, passing by homesteads that seldom got visitors. Perhaps he could be the first human some of the natives met? Wouldn't that be something!
"Of course, Wallace! I'd be happy to!" Normally, the more veteran members of the patrol would volunteer, but they'd done it enough times without incident- really, the main danger was that due to the patrols length, you might arrive back at thunder totem well past dinner and then you'd go without. Such was army life, no doubt!
"See you at sunset then, fellas!"
As the path branched, Lindon marched off- leaving Wallace and Carl to look at his back, shrinking swiftly in the distance.
"Odd fella, ain't he?" Wallace mused. "Good 'eart, tho."
Later, same day.
These isles really were special! He'd followed the river for some time, not met a single traveller on the road. In the sky he'd spotted enormous eagles, and- this was perhaps the craziest thing of all- they were being ridden by tauren. He wasn't quite sure how that worked, the mechanics of it? Wingspan, body mass, and so on... but regardless, it was a sight to behold. The skyhorn tribe didn't really hang around Thunder totem, so he'd not had the chance to ask one about it- and maybe it was a touchy subject? He'd have to consider the phrasing, no doubt.
His train of thought was a bit derailed when something caught his attention. He'd been passing into more wooded areas, the road- more of a trodden path, really- snaking through dense undergrowth. Off the trail, he could see what looked like- huh, what did it look like exactly? Sort of like... well, not a person exactly, but a scarecrow? Stuffed with hay, seemingly- clad in garish, bright colours that made it stand out starkly against the muted green and brown of the surroundings.
Was it some sort of warning, perhaps? The figure resembled a tauren, vaguely- horns made from branches stuck out from a slightly elongated head. It was not bigger than a human child, and assuredly not a living thing... but it didn't exactly come off as intimidating either.
More skulls would've been needed for that.
Curiosity took the upper hand. Perhaps someone had accidentally left a doll out here? Fallen out of a cart? Or perhaps it was a milestone, of some sort- a traveller's mark?
The undergrowth reached up to his waist, providing a real challenge. He had to almost wade through it, using plate-clad hands to fend off thorns and branches. It was a wonder he'd seen the thing in the first place! Wasn't until he got closer he realized it was propped up on a tree stump- not an accident, then! So, what was it? A closer look might answer his questio-
Behind him, the very ground rose up. Before he could do as much as whirl about, a three-fingered hand clamped down around his mouth, a fragrance of crushed herbs invaded his senses with such intensity that he had trouble staying up. His limbs grew weak, world dimming about him- Lindon's last thoughts before passing out a heartfelt being a heartfelt "Oh dear...!"
His limp body fell into strong arms, the unknown assailant grunting with satisfaction at a job well done.
Later still, same day.
Lindon came to, slowly, as if he'd woken from a long sleep. He stretched in the way that makes one's legs shake- the best way to start a day...
Only to find that he remained stretching- sort of! Normally he'd rub the tiredness out of his eyes, brush away the curls of hair covering his face. Try as he might however, he could not move his arms a great deal. His senses were coming back to him even as memory lingered behind, hazy- he tried to tug his hands down, only to find them stuck.
Tied together, even! Straining to look up, he could see coils of rope around his wrists- there was room to wiggle, the cords not so tight that they cut off blood flow, but disconcerting all the same.
Wait, where was he even?
He'd not noticed at first, but this was assuredly not the guest barracks they were quartered in- it looked like the inside of a tipi, walls of canvas leaning in, sloping to a hole in the roof where smoke could escape. Surprisingly spacious too, they really were bigger on the inside!
... why was he near naked?
He was certain he'd been wearing armor last time he was conscious, but there was little else except his underwear left on. Lindon was laid out bare, not quite the muscular giant of a hero but certainly showing signs of his training- toned and fit. No hair on his chest- it seemed his they had all transferred to his scalp instead, to make it just that more lustrous and flowing.
Was he a prisoner? Of whom? Where? He shifted, felt the soft caress of multiple furs and mats beneath him- it was not an uncomfortable cell, at least. His legs weren't tied either, which was surprising... but when he tried to stand up, they felt like jelly, so he had to remain content with lying there.
Guess he'd have to wait a bit, then. Might as well take in his surroundings a bit, get acquainted! Maybe he had committed a faux pau, done something he shouldn't have? Unknowingly tread on property?
His mind wandered, as did his gaze- saw a small kettle over a fire, its contents bubbling. It was hot in here, sufficiently warm to make him sweat- tiny drops trailing down his broad chest. There were chests and coffers, bedrolls, shields and weapons- over there was a worktable, littered with tinctures and vials, herbs in ceramic jars stacked on top of another.
Lindon saw the doll he'd investigated shoved into a corner, continued to look about him. There was a tauren woman lounging against pillows- oh, he thought he could see a dream catcher just above the bedroll, and hear a wind chime rustle outside, the sound of it reminding Lindon of- hold on, wait... back up?
