Commander Pioviel directed her nightsaber over towards the now-abandoned Skullcrusher Fort. She observed her troops pursuing the remnants of the defenders, held up her hand, and barked an order in elvish. Her command was quickly carried to every rank of the elves, and officers called their troops back. They had what they wanted. Though the commander would have liked to exterminate every last one of the horde, she thought it best to fortify their position, lest the monsters return with more of their abominable kind. She watched as her troops moved about the battlefield, helping those wounded elves who lay on the battlefield, and slaying any wounded enemy they found. She rode slowly into the fort, surveying the area. She noticed what looked like a tattered rag stuck above the fort entrance with an arrow. She peered closely at it, then realized it was a loincloth. Raising her eyebrow in bewilderment, she wondered how in Azeroth that could've happened. Shaking her head, she began giving the orders to man the fort, and sent a runner back to Felwood to let them know of her success...
Rhoach opened one eye. He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar edges of a cot. Wondering if the whole battle was a dream, he sat up slowly and gazed around. No. No dream. He was in a sick bay. Around him, orc, troll, and tauren shamans worked their magic on the few wounded that had survived the assault on Ashenvale outpost. Wondering how he got here, wherever here was, Rhoach looked down at and saw that someone had removed the arrows from his leg and thrown some leather breeches over his naked form. He quickly donned the breeches, stood up, and flexed his leg experimentally. Good as new. That taken care of, Rhoach detained a passing orc shaman and asked where he was.
"Orgrimmar," the shaman grunted, moving on to heal more wounded.
Rhoach sniffed the air and looked around. He still felt as if he were missing something. He still felt somewhat naked... His hands flew to his back. His scimitars were missing. Exhaling hard out of his nose in irritation, Rhoach scanned the ground. When he failed to find them there, he got down on his hands and knees, peering underneath the cot he had been lying on.
"Luukin' fur deez?"
Rhoach stood up quickly and whirled around. Glok'tur was standing there, holding Rhoach's scimitars, still in their scabbards. Rhoach quickly snatched them from Glok's grip, strapping them on and relishing the feel of having his scimitars strapped reassuringly to his back once more. Rhoach, realizing his lack of regard for Glok'tur's civility, nodded his thanks and spoke haltingly, "Thank lat. Deez zults meen lot tu me." Glok'tur jerked his thumb towards a gathering group of Skullcrushers and said, "Dunno iv we muuvin' owt suun. Bak tu Ash 'post. See wut Grulg agh Uglutz blah. Mebbe clomp elvzies, mebbe stay heer." Rhoach nodded, idly wondering if he could find and 'procure' some decent armor in the area. Looking over towards a raised platform, Rhoach thought he could see someone who looked like one of the Skullcrusher leaders take the stand and address the gathered Skullcrushers. Rhoach and Glok'tur waited to see what the order would be.
