Commander Pinter Ch. 02

"The Orcs of Ironfist Harbor are funneling arms to Highmaul."

"Are you sure?" Pinter asked. "Yesterday in Gorgrond we found a pond full of waterbeasts instead of the Blackrock you promised."

Pinter stood with Scout Valdez at the operations table in her town hall. A blaze nearly the size of a bonfire roared in the large meeting room fireplace as soft, purple sunrise shone through the window. Scout Valdez shifted just slightly as he examined the map spread on the table. He had a strong constitution, but Pinter had grown so much in a few weeks. When she asked a question, she wanted an answer. "Qiana returned from her reconnaissance at midnight," Valdez said. "We are confident."

"Very well," Pinter said. "The day is clear. Destroy the supplies, kill the Highmaul emissary, and assassinate General Kul'krosh. I'll find Mandala."

"Good luck, Commander," Valdez said.

He clicked his heels and saluted. Pinter returned with her hand at her forehead, and she left the town hall.

News of Pinter's victory in the Slag Mines traveled fast. Very quickly Pinter earned a reputation, earned her gold, and won favor with Khadgar. Now she commanded a true fortress, nearly a castle, and one hundred Dwarves straight from Ironforge kept watch day and night. Pinter was a Commander, and she talked the part.

Pinter walked through the infant morning with the stiff smell of her stables permeating the dew-soaked air. The windows of the Testy Talbuk, her garrison inn, glowed soft and gentle with the day just beginning. She had the place built shortly after King Arian Wrynn himself expanded the walls of her garrison, and now she used it as the hub of her activities. Strange travelers somehow found their way to her garrison, each of them weaving some tale of adventure that usually ended with her and Mandala trekking to some dangerous part of Draenor and returning with whatever exotic treasure they had been sent for. The Testy Talbuk also attracted curious wanderers from Azeroth, and they were usually ripe for recruiting to her ranks, adding to garrison defense, volunteering for missions around Draenor to procure resources, loot gold, and cause general mayhem for the Iron Horde and their allies. The Testy Talbuk was also just a good place to enjoy a meal now and then, and Pinter even had her own private room if she ever wanted it.

Innkeeper Allison looked up from the bar as she ran a white cloth down its length. She smiled for Pinter and already bubbled with enthusiasm despite the early hour. "Good morning, Commander!"

"Is Mandala upstairs?" Pinter asked.

"Same room," Allison said with a smirk. "Same room."

Pinter passed a few tables already filled with workers from the barn enjoying breakfast before they spent the day toiling until sunset. She nodded at them as they greeted her, and she walked to the staircase.

She didn't have to knock. As soon as Pinter reached the top step, two Dwarves wandered out of a corner room in just their underclothes, their armor in heaping handfuls that they struggled through as they kicked open the door with their feet. They saw Pinter and paused, staring over the mounds in their hands.

"Morning, fellas," Pinter said.

"Commander," one of the Dwarves said, and that was that. Pinter stepped aside as they went to the stairs.

She opened the door and found the purple-skinned Draenei sitting naked on the bed with her armor laid out at her feet. "Commander Pinter," Mandala said. "I'll be ready shortly."

"Honestly, don't you ever spend time in your own garrison?" Pinter asked.

"I have Draenei guarding mine," Mandala said, her accent so wonderful to Pinter's ears. "Your Dwarves are so much more fun."

Pinter shook her head as Mandala laughed to herself. She stood, and the beautiful curves so common to her race snaked their way through the early morning. Pinter had a glimpse of dark nipples on Mandala's perfect breasts. Draenei women truly were a sight, absolutely lovely, seemingly so delicate, but then Mandala hefted her plate leggings up to her waist. The paladin was a little wild, sure, but Pinter trusted no one else in the dark depths of Draenor. "Just be ready to fly," Pinter said. "We're assaulting Ironfist Harbor."

"You are far too serious," Mandala said as she slipped into her red breastplate. "You need some fun in your life."

Pinter laughed, deflecting the jest, and she went back to the dining room for a cup of warm milk.

Maybe Mandala was right. After all, Pinter had saved Mandala's life, snatching her back from the edge when death was just moments away. Ever since the fight in Bloodmaul, Mandala had been staying in Pinter's garrison, enjoying the company, sleeping with whoever she could convince. Mandala didn't have to do much with a body like hers. Pinter typically found her with one or two lovers each morning, usually Dwarven defenders, sometimes the mysterious traveler from the day before. Why wouldn't Mandala enjoy herself when she had been so close to the end?

Pinter had done nothing but build her garrison since Bloodmaul, since her night with Kerrak. Maybe she could stand to loosen up, too. But every time she thought she had a free moment to be easy and relax, some other instance demanded Pinter's attention. She loved her life and was proud of what she knew Kerrak had helped her become. She was thankful for the chance to share something so magical with someone who had needed it just as badly as she did, but now Pinter had bigger business to attend to. She was a Commander, and so she acted like one.

Mandala dressed quickly indeed. She joined Pinter at the bar for a glass of milk in her full set of armor, her domineering visage drawing the usual awed stares from the garrison laborers in the dining room. Pinter and Mandala toasted the day, and then they bought their gryphon rides into Nagrand.

Pinter marveled at how much more quickly events transpired with an available flight path. A silly little Goblin greeted them on arrival in Nagrand and handed over the reins of two wolf mounts. Soon Pinter and Mandala sped west towards Ironfist Harbor.

Mandala cut in half the first two Orcs that greeted them. Pinter stayed far behind the Draenei paladin, who didn't even need her for the most part, but as Mandala fought a trio of heavily armored Orcs just inside the harbor gates four more raced up the road to join the fight. Each one fell with an arrow in his eye slit.

Pinter and Mandala fought their way past large wagons filled with supplies, and they tossed torches and lighted arrows into each one. Every laborer who tried to stop them wound up dead. The two adventurers found their way to a large ring, an amphitheater of sorts, where a hefty Ogre in ornamental robes held a meeting with seven Orcs. Mandala charged into the ring with a war cry. The attendees turned all too late, and three of the Orcs were headless before the Ogre picked up his club to fight. Pinter downed the towering brute with an arrow through his forehead. Mandala cut the legs from the other Orcs, and they rushed to the tower where General Kul'krosh held his counsel.

A few Orcs in black armor met them on the spiral staircase inside, but none were a match. Pinter and Mandala emerged on the tower roof to find Kul'krosh ready for them with two large axes in hand. Pinter slowly walked out to the flank as the menacing Orc kept his eye on the two raiders, and then Mandala threw her axe shield.

Kul'krosh flicked it aside with one of his axes and ducked Pinter's shot, but the hunter and the paladin were too much for him to handle at once. Mandala fought in a sweeping dance as she anticipated Pinter's every shot, careful from experience not to stand still while she knew another volley was coming. Mandala's shield parried a mighty strike from Kul'krosh. He dodged back from her counterstrike, raised his axe to strike in return. Pinter was waiting for this with two arrows primed and ready. She let loose. Kul'krosh fell dead with both eye sockets plugged.

Mandala searched the dead Orc general's pockets and tossed Pinter some of the gold she found. Pinter looked over the harbor, perfectly ablaze with their handiwork. "Some morning," Pinter said.

"We've had better," Mandala said.

The two women walked uncontested through the harbor's main gates. They turned east down the sandy road, but then what sounded like a lion wailing in agony drew their attention. Another tower was just off the road, buried in the thick trees, easily missed when they came this way earlier. Pinter kicked her wolf and hurried to see what the commotion was. "It's not our mission," Mandala said.

"Someone needs us," Pinter said, and she leapt from her wolf, bursting through the tower's main door.

Pinter was lightning up the spiral stairs taking the steps two at a time. As she reached the top she heard the deep, growly tone of an Orc as he laughed in derision. "I like how you cower, young Saberon," the Orc said. "Do not stop or I will cut you again out of boredom."

There was a loudcrackof a whip, and the agonized cry ripped through Pinter's belly again, churning her insides with rage and pity for whoever suffered so terribly. She found herself beneath a closed trapdoor. She opened it a crack with a careful poke from her bow. Pinter saw two stout feet wearing heavy mail boots. There was a cage nearby, and a large sandy colored humanoid crouched in the corner crying as he endured his torture. Pinter growled at the sight, and she was in the open.

The Orc turned. A large Orc in a red tunic, a whip in one hand, a dagger in the other. He saw Pinter, who dashed to the side as the whip cracked down and missed her. The wooden floor splintered with the strike. Pinter set her arrow and fired. The Orc dodged, but he was too slow for Pinter herself. She rammed headlong into him, powered her legs with every ounce of retribution she could muster, and shoved the torturer over the side. He screamed as he fell, and he went silent as he landed with the loudsnapof multiple breaking bones. Pinter watched him for a moment, his limbs all bent at insane angles, and she turned to the cage.

It was a Saberon, one of the cat people she and Mandala had encountered while adventuring through Nagrand. Saberons bore signs of intelligence, but they managed little more than primitive villages in the grasslands. This Saberon wore a small loincloth and nothing else. His upper body was powerful, muscular beneath his soft yellow fur, but he was lined with lash marks. There was a cut on his cheek that stood out in dark red contrast to the rest of his body. Pinter stepped forward, and the Saberon pressed back against the corner of his cage with his body rising and falling with fast, frightened breaths.

Pinter shouldered her bow, stopped, and opened her hands in peace. "It's okay," she said. "I won't hurt you. It's over. He's dead."

The Saberon stared at Pinter with wild, yellow eyes. He glanced briefly over Pinter's shoulder. She looked, and she saw the key hanging from a nail. "I'll let you out," Pinter said.

Pinter stepped closer to the cage. The Saberon drew back more. "It's okay," Pinter said. She put her fingers through the iron bars, and she waited. The Saberon's breath slowed, and then he inched closer to her. He moved his nose to Pinter's fingers, and he sniffed her. She laughed a little as he licked her fingertips with his rough tongue.

"Was it worth it?" Mandala asked as they rode again on their wolves. The flight station was just ahead.

Pinter looked back at the Saberon who trailed them by ten yards like an unsure pet. He walked on his hind legs, his thick, strapping arms held out to his side. Pinter made eye contact with him. The Saberon stopped for a second, only to rush ahead so he could make up the lost ground and continue on. "He's free and he's safe," Pinter said as she looked ahead again. "I'd say it was very worth it."

"You do like to make friends," Mandala said. They mounted their gryphons to return to Pinter's garrison. She wasn't sure if there would be room, but the Saberon gave her no choice. Pinter returned home with her new friend riding behind her.

The gryphon master in Pinter's garrison watched them fly overhead. When they landed he walked up with his head cocked, motioning behind Pinter. "Who's the newcomer?" he asked.

Before Pinter could answer or even dismount, the Saberon leapt from behind her and bounded away, straight into the large barn just up the road. A few startled shouts followed, accompanied by two shaken laborers who jumped into the open and looked around in confusion.

"He's a friend," Pinter said.

The Saberon never left the barn over the next three days. At first the workers were afraid to go to work, complaining that all the Saberon did was hide in the loft and rumble quietly to himself. Eventually, though, in less than a day even they got used to him. Pinter would go to the Testy Talbuk to rouse Manadala in the morning and see the workers finishing up breakfast, getting a nice bucket of water and waiting on fresh bacon and eggs for their new Saberon inhabitant. "He keeps to himself," the barn keeper, Homer Stonefield, told Pinter at the end of that first day. "And he watches us. He's a curious fellow. He may come in handy."

Pinter knew how curious he was. Every morning when she went to Scout Valdez downstairs in the town hall he had a present for her, something someone left on the front step. Little wreaths of wound up hay waited for Pinter in the morning, and she spotted large cat prints in the dust leading to and from the town hall front door. She smiled to herself whenever she found them, and she always meant to go talk to her new friend. But the day's mission always drew her away with Mandala, and they returned home victorious and so exhausted they only wanted to eat and turn in until the following day's assignment. She was glad the Saberon seemed to be fitting in, though. Pinter knew she had done right by saving him in Nagrand.

One morning dawned with the horizon blood red. Pinter saw it from her chamber window, and something cold gripped her insides. Hasty footsteps stopped at her closed door, followed by a few quick knocks. "Commander, ma'am," a nervous, young voice said. "You are needed."

A few minutes later, Pinter stood on the front step with Scout Valdez and three of her Dwarf defenders. Sergeant Crowley, her Stormshield attaché, joined them with eyes narrowed on the dawn that seeped crimson like a saturated bandage. He sniffed the air. "Smoke," he uttered. "The Iron Horde is coming."

"How could they find us?" Pinter asked, but then a low war horn rang out somewhere far away but far too close for comfort.

"Rally the lads," the Dwarven Lieutenant said, and they were off.

"I'll wake the Barracks," Sergeant Crowley said rushing away.

"Go," Pinter said as she unshouldered her bow. She pointed at Scout Valdez and Lieutenant Thorn, the one-eyed Worgen who drew up missions for Pinter's followers. "Gather the townsfolk. Get them in the mine and seal the entrance. The rest of us will deal with this."

"Yes, Commander," they said, but Pinter was already running to the Testy Talbuk. The Dwarves blew their alarm, and an anxious blanket covered the garrison.

Mandala greeted Pinter at the door to the Talbuk tightening her leggings, her sword sheathed and her shield strapped to her back. "Who is attacking us?" the Draenei asked.

"The Iron Horde," Pinter said, and then an iron star sizzled over the wall, blasting in a cloud of molten sparks, racing up the main road straight for the Town Hall. An astute team of Dwarves shoved a cargo cart in the star's path, and there was an explosion of red flame and twisted metal. It settled, and Pinter motioned for the Dwarves who poured into the garrison square. "Set up positions! They'll be coming through the gate."

They were already there. Pinter and Mandala led the way, loosing a barrage of arrows, chopping down Orc after black-armored Orc that charged through the garrison gate. The Dwarves shouted with the rush of battle they had all secretly longed for these last few weeks, and no one was denied the chance to shatter shield with hammer, cleave helmet with blade, shed Iron Horde blood that morning.

Pinter and Mandala worked in their uncanny coordination. Pinter didn't even stop to think as the Draenei paladin ran from pack to pack, startling the Orcs into a cloud of confusion, giving Pinter the chance to cut down stragglers with her careful aim. They fought with an unspoken language, like they were meant to find each other here in Draenor. The Dwarves took advantage of the confusion, of the gaping paths Pinter and Mandala cut through the Orc ranks that kept charging into the garrison only to meet a foe they had not counted on facing in a hundred years. Pinter wondered if this was it, if this was all Grommash's finest had to offer.

"Rylak!" a Dwarven voice called out.

Pinter looked above the town hall. A long shape with bat wings and the tail of an ear wig descended in silhouette from the morning sky. Two necks extended from the body, both with heads that barked like hell hounds. One of the heads jerked backwards, and a blue ball of lightning flew into the ground leaving a wide zone of crackling static.

"Pinter?" Mandala said, looking back from the pile of dead Orcs she had created.

"Stay here," Pinter said. "I'll deal with it."

Mandala nodded and went back to work. Pinter was off and running.

She shouted commands to a few Dwarves that stared at the descending rylak in shock. They broke their paralysis at the sight of Pinter with bow in hand rushing headlong to destroy this new threat to everything she and so many others had worked to build. Two of the Dwarves joined Pinter with repeating rifles, and they aimed with her at the horrible flying beast. "Draw it to the ground," Pinter said. "And keep firing while the others hack it to pieces."

"Aye, m'lady," the Dwarves said. The air cracked with rifle fire and whistled with Pinter's arrows. The rylak landed and reared back with both heads roaring in challenge. Six Dwarf warriors were on it immediately. Pinter and her riflemen kept up their barrage, aiming for the beast's eyes, distracting it while the warriors got close, got personal, got bloody. One of the heads whipped to the left, sending one of the Dwarves flying with a cry. The others jumped into the opening, each one finding flesh for his blade. The rylak howled in pain. Pinter found her killing blow, and she fired. Her arrow pierced straight through one of the rylak's chins. The head swung lazily back and forth, crashing dead on the ground. The other head was weighted by its fallen counterpart, low enough for the warriors to finally strike home and sever it. Rylak blood poured through Pinter's town square. It was dead.

A cheer went up, and Pinter felt the surge of morale from the victorious moment. A dozen more Dwarves seemed to appear out of nowhere ready to join the fight. They charged with Pinter back to the garrison gate where Mandala and the others were pushing back the last of the Iron Horde invaders who were too stupid not to flee. Pinter cut down two more Orcs. Mandala chopped one in half from shoulder to crotch. The Dwarves cleaned up the remaining mess, and everyone looked around as the morning suddenly went quiet.

The Dwarf Lieutenant panted over a groaning, incapacitated Orc who clutched his stumped leg on the edge of consciousness. He laughed. "Is that it?"

Sergeant Crowley stared cold and calculating through the garrison gate. Pinter followed his gaze, and then she heard it. The deep rumble of an engine. The ground vibrated through the soles of her boots, up her legs, into her knees. It wasn't over yet. "Siege engine!" Pinter shouted.

"Form a line!" Mandala ordered, and then three of the Dwarves flew as the ground burst beneath their feet.