Jon watched Arrenda Webb, the Director of the House of Stewards Scouts division, signal for him to come in from the perimeter sweeps he had been doing since the House of Stewards force had arrived at the burned-out homestead which was being used as a makeshift camp at least for the night.
He was tired, he was sore, and he was lonely.
Jon was tired because he had been part of the scout patrol that had swept the path for the main force of the House of Stewards force. The House of Stewards had come to the Plaguelands to rescue three scouts captured by an enemy force - Jon didn't know anything about the enemy force, but it didn't really matter. He had pledged himself to the House of Stewards and trusted the Lord and Lady Steward to know their business. Jon went forward, shrouded in Shadow, with others of the scouting force, led by Arrenda.
The scouts were following a trail, about a score of others. They had trapped their backtrail with explosives and fire elementals; Jon had gotten a good scorching from their fire before the scouts had dispatched them.
They had set up camp near a dilapidated homestead. A score of mercenaries led by a Kul Tirasan commander, plus a pair of mechagnomes had encamped, with a wagon loaded with a device. They had the three scouts as prisoners.
Hinick had consulted and planned the rescue. He led the main force of the House of Stewards engaged the mercenaries while Lady Raysse and Lisana snatched the prisoners using their fel arts. The scouts had been assigned specific targets - Jon's target had been the mechagnome with the deadly-looking rifle.
His assignment had given him a chance to deploy a G99.99 Landshark, a land-based torpedo. The Landshark had locked on to the mechagnome gunner and blown him - with several of the mercenaries - to nothing but a red mist.
Jon had rejoined the scouts as ordered and helped in the fighting retreat. The device in the wagon had detonated, knocking out the arcane-based communication devices. The House of Stewards had sought the ruins of Arrenda's family to serve as a base while they tended their wounds; as Jon had only suffered some superficial burns from the elementals and a graze or two from the Kul Tiran commander's mace, he did the perimeter sweeps until relieved. Jon was too wound up and - to be honest - too paranoid to sleep, and so he sucked down one of this Crimson healing vials and let the alchemy work while he made himself useful.
He was sore from the Kul Tiras mace having scored two glancing blows - Jon was bruised, but nothing had been broken. His leather armor had served, even though the laminated leather pauldrons had been cracked and would need to be replaced.
He was lonely because he missed his wife. Alia Atherton and he had been married in Northshire Abbey just before she had responded to the call from Lady Proudmoore to help her reinforce the tenuous teleportation link between the sunken land of Nazjatar. Jon had been through the portal, carrying food supplies to the encampment at Mezzamere.
The Alliance had struck a potent blow to the Horde at the Battle of Dazar'alor, but not without cost. While pursuing the Horde fleet, Queen Azshara had utilized the power of the Tidestone of Golganneth to open the seas. The two fleets had wrecked onto the reefs of Nazjatar. Many were lost, but the survivors found allies in the Waveblade Ankoans, fish-men similar to those found in Pandaria. Their base of Mezzamere, centered around a cluster of ancient Kaldorei ruins, was now the base of operations for the Alliance, striking Queen Azshara's naga armies.
The House of Stewards had other assignments for Jon, including a scouting mission to Mechagon, the island of the mechagnomes, newly discovered to the northwest of Kul Tiras. Jon had not spent any significant time with his new wife since their marriage, but duty - for both of them - was a harsh mistress.
A harsh mistress indeed.
He was tired, he was sore, and he was lonely.
Jon was tired because he had been part of the scout patrol that had swept the path for the main force of the House of Stewards force. The House of Stewards had come to the Plaguelands to rescue three scouts captured by an enemy force - Jon didn't know anything about the enemy force, but it didn't really matter. He had pledged himself to the House of Stewards and trusted the Lord and Lady Steward to know their business. Jon went forward, shrouded in Shadow, with others of the scouting force, led by Arrenda.
The scouts were following a trail, about a score of others. They had trapped their backtrail with explosives and fire elementals; Jon had gotten a good scorching from their fire before the scouts had dispatched them.
They had set up camp near a dilapidated homestead. A score of mercenaries led by a Kul Tirasan commander, plus a pair of mechagnomes had encamped, with a wagon loaded with a device. They had the three scouts as prisoners.
Hinick had consulted and planned the rescue. He led the main force of the House of Stewards engaged the mercenaries while Lady Raysse and Lisana snatched the prisoners using their fel arts. The scouts had been assigned specific targets - Jon's target had been the mechagnome with the deadly-looking rifle.
His assignment had given him a chance to deploy a G99.99 Landshark, a land-based torpedo. The Landshark had locked on to the mechagnome gunner and blown him - with several of the mercenaries - to nothing but a red mist.
Jon had rejoined the scouts as ordered and helped in the fighting retreat. The device in the wagon had detonated, knocking out the arcane-based communication devices. The House of Stewards had sought the ruins of Arrenda's family to serve as a base while they tended their wounds; as Jon had only suffered some superficial burns from the elementals and a graze or two from the Kul Tiran commander's mace, he did the perimeter sweeps until relieved. Jon was too wound up and - to be honest - too paranoid to sleep, and so he sucked down one of this Crimson healing vials and let the alchemy work while he made himself useful.
He was sore from the Kul Tiras mace having scored two glancing blows - Jon was bruised, but nothing had been broken. His leather armor had served, even though the laminated leather pauldrons had been cracked and would need to be replaced.
He was lonely because he missed his wife. Alia Atherton and he had been married in Northshire Abbey just before she had responded to the call from Lady Proudmoore to help her reinforce the tenuous teleportation link between the sunken land of Nazjatar. Jon had been through the portal, carrying food supplies to the encampment at Mezzamere.
The Alliance had struck a potent blow to the Horde at the Battle of Dazar'alor, but not without cost. While pursuing the Horde fleet, Queen Azshara had utilized the power of the Tidestone of Golganneth to open the seas. The two fleets had wrecked onto the reefs of Nazjatar. Many were lost, but the survivors found allies in the Waveblade Ankoans, fish-men similar to those found in Pandaria. Their base of Mezzamere, centered around a cluster of ancient Kaldorei ruins, was now the base of operations for the Alliance, striking Queen Azshara's naga armies.
The House of Stewards had other assignments for Jon, including a scouting mission to Mechagon, the island of the mechagnomes, newly discovered to the northwest of Kul Tiras. Jon had not spent any significant time with his new wife since their marriage, but duty - for both of them - was a harsh mistress.
A harsh mistress indeed.
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