(For the sake of story I'm pretending Demeana isn't an elf.)
Naaki yawned and stretched , shifting the clefthoof saddle that was on his shoulder. It probably smelled worse than his mount, but it kept pesky little goblins and elves from swarming him as he made his way up to the Horde's headquarters on Draenor. It wasn't that the Tauren paladin had problems with the smaller races, per say, just sometimes one wanted to listen to the peace in their own head and not the hyperactive chattering of small people. Okay, and maybe the way their noses wrinkled up and they tried to make polite escapes when the wind shifted was amusing to him.
It was snowing in Frostwall. It always seemed to be snowing in Frostwall. Inhaling snowflakes through one's snout was a distinctly unpleasant experience. Naaki was still snorting and shaking his head when the door to the headquarters exploded into splinters and a male Blood Elf in plate mail went hurtling past in a blast of arcane energy. The elf went ass over head a few times before hitting the top of the steps of the small marketplace and then went clattering down them.
The commander of the Horde forces on Draenor stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the torches and fireplaces within. Arcane energies sparked and danced all around her, her fists glowing dangerously. "Did you want to come back up here and say that again?" she asked with ice cold calm, walking down the steps from the headquarters to glare down to where the Blood Elf lay. "Do you want to claim a MISCOMMUNICATION?"
Naaki dropped his saddle in the snow bank by the door debris and put his hand on sword, moving to shadow Tanla as she put sparking hands on her hips. He felt, more than saw, Druuze taking up a similar position behind her other shoulder. He'd wondered where the Troll had gotten to.
The fallen elf spluttered a few things, getting to his feet. He started to draw his swords before looking up at Tanla and her shadows. Naaki hadn't realised elves could actually get paler. "No." He finally muttered, looking anywhere but at her and the small crowd of pissed off people that was gathering behind her.
Tanla stared down at him for another few heartbeats. "Then I suggest you pick up your gear, get on your steed, and get your ass to Warspear and go back to Azeroth. If I hear of you setting foot on Draenor again, I will drag you before Vol'Jin himself and explain to him why you've just become the Horde's chief hoof scrubber for the pig farm outside of Orgrimmar."
Naaki had been to that farm. It stank. Farmers weren't paid enough. Pigs weren't bad, but pig shit was one of the worst smells he'd ever encountered.
"Yes." The warrior grumbled as he got to his feet.
The commander and her shadows didn't move until the elf had gotten on his horse and ridden through the gates. The crowd slowly melted away now that the drama was done.
Tanla stood and watched the elf collect his horse and mount up. As soon as the back hoof of said horse had gone beyond the gate she turned to the Tauren. "NAAKI!" She exclaimed. The aura of arcane energy disappeared, anger dissipated as well apparently. A burst of arcane energy to boost her up as she jumped up to wrap her arms around his neck and plant a friendly kiss on the side of his face, completely ignoring the stinking saddle. "Are you the bearer of good news? How's your lady? WHERE'S your lady?" She let go and dropped back down on the well-packed snow. She glanced over at Druuze, probably to threaten him with the same enthusiasm, but he'd disappeared. She seemed to accept that the rogue had decided that his duty didn't include getting hugged by elves. Naaki figured Druuze was probably off making sure a certain asshat was getting his battered butt through a portal back to Azeroth.
Before Naaki could answer any of the barrage of questions, she grabbed his free hand and tugged towards the command hall. He contemplated resisting just for the sake of amusement, but he figured she'd had a rough day already, and it wasn't like it was going to get better so he docilely followed along.
Once through the remains of the door, he dumped the saddle by the wall. A hand wave and the Light granted a barrier across the door. It wouldn't take long for the blazing fires to warm the place back up, he hoped. While the plains got cold enough in the winters, he'd spent weeks in a hot, humid, jungle and wasn't too fond of the environment around here.
Tanla grabbed a collection of books off a Tauren sized chair for him to sit on and dumped them on an Orc sized chair before retaking what she'd been obviously sitting on before the brouhaha.
"What was all that about?" He asked before settling on the chair, tail swishing back and forth in an effort to warm it up. He refused to wear those silly 'tail warmers' that the blood elves oh-so-innocently kept offering.
"Oh, the usual." She waved a hand.
"The usual?" he repeated, eyes narrowing.
"I married an Orc, Naaki. My kind doesn't DO that." She said with some bitterness. He was actually kind of surprised it wasn't more bitterness considering her husband had been MIA since Deathwing's final attack.
He snorted, "Your kind consort with anything with the right equipment, and even then I'm not quite sure they're not willing to improvise."
She rolled her eyes. Naaki was convinced Blood Elves were just all teenagers. Bloodthirsty, violent, teenagers. Which was actually rather redundant when he gave it a second thought.
"That's okay. FUCKING other races is fine. You just don't MARRY them. That means they're PEOPLE, that they're EQUAL to the great elven kind." She gave him a wry smile, "and we couldn't give THAT message, could we?"
"So what did Mr Pleasant say?" She waved a hand, trying to dismiss it. He shifted, crossed his arms across his chest and waited. He could be a very patient person when he wanted. Oh sure, Dameana called it being 'stubborn' but he preferred patient.
It took about four minutes before Tanla huffed. "He called me Commander Orcwhore. I objected."
The wooden table's creak got him to unclench his fingers. He hoped that Druuze accidentally eviscerated that elf between here and Warspear.
She stood and walked towards the larger fire, blinking a bit at the shimmer of Light energy that covered the doorway. "They have a surplus of doors, once you're gone, it'll be replaced."
"Blow up the door often?" Naaki asked, reining in his temper from thoughts of making sure Druuze did a good job.
"It's an ORC outpost, Naaki," she said wryly, mood changing once again. "They build the doors all the same size because THEY break them often."
"Mmmf."
"So.. as I asked earlier, why are you here, where's your lady and how are you doing?"
He sighed, "Things have changed on Azeroth. Our forces ended up working together, as much as we ever do, to assault the Broken Shore. Wrynn and Vol'Jin were killed."
Tanla cursed in the liquid language of the elves and sank back in her chair. Her mind obviously at work. "Who is Warchief? Bane?"
"You'd think." Naaki didn't quite growl, "But no, Sylvanas."
"Sylvanas?!" Tanla repeated, shocked. "But .." She waved her hands about before managing to find words, "As much as I love the Dark Lady.. Warchief?!"
"Vol'Jin chose her. I'm told without her, the Horde's best warriors and leadership, they wouldn't have escaped Gul'dan's trap. It gets worse - the Alliance blames us for Wrynn's death, thinking Sylvanas betrayed them."
"The Alliance are idiots," Tanla muttered absently, her thoughts obviously elsewhere.
"THAT goes without saying." Naaki agreed. He watched her twist a lock of hair around her finger several times. "The Warchief has asked for your to attend her." Tanla hadn't talked about her association with the Dark Lady much, beyond that they'd worked on 'some projects' together in the past.
Tanla sighed. "This doesn't surprise me. Are you taking over here? Or are we withdrawing from Draenor entirely?"
The paladin thought that for the first time since he'd met her, Tanla actually looked her age. "We're pulling the majority of the forces we still have here out, shut down the outposts. We'll keep Warspear and here active for now. I'm to take command her till new orders appear."
"That's what you get for complaining about being stuck in the jungle to run the campaign against the citadel." He huffed his irritation, more to create the faint smile that crossed her face than anything else. "And Dameana?"
"I left her threatening to smack Y'Rel and Grommash's heads together if they don't learn to work together."
Tanla shrugged a shoulder, "Well, that could at least be entertaining. Alright, let me pack my books and I'll be out of your fur within the hour." She looked out of the shimmering doorway. "Sorry about the door."
"Eh. I'll find a hide somewhere to stretch across it if necessary." He stood up. "Did you want another hug?" He wasn't quite sure on hug protocol with her.
She let out a short laugh, "Maybe if you weren't in your armour, it leaves creases and bruises. Get one from your lady when she gets here." Tanla suddenly grinned, "And don't use Grommash's hide for the doorway. He may be useful in the future."
"Anything's possible," Naaki grumbled. Trying to convince the slaughterer of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of Draenei to work with justifiably bitter Draenei had been trying, to say the least.
Tanla's chimelike laugh sounded more like her own as she summoned a portal and started placing her collection of books, scrolls, and odd devices in. He'd have offered to help, but the last time she'd threatened him with a full body electrolysis if he tried. Once Dameana had stopped laughing when he'd asked what that even was, he decided to leave well enough alone from mage paraphernalia.
Tanla stopped in her packing to look at him for a moment. "I'll summon you a realistically sized bed before I go. You don't want to know what Orcs consider comfortable."
He snorted his amusement, "I know what they consider comfortable and I disagree with them. Thank you." His spine would thank her more.
She put a mug of ale down in front of him and went back to her packing.
As elves went, at least this one knew what was civilised.
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