moonshadows | Honorary Argent

“Pardon me, Champion of Orgrimmar, but may I speak with you for a few moments?” Human voice, male, older.

I don’t look up. “If you won’t be offended that I keep working,” I say in common.

“Oh, by all means, keep – what is it that you’re doing?”

The raptors shifts, wanting to snap at me, and I growl at it. “The cold, hard ground here is bad for their claws if they get too long. This one broke a claw; I’m fitting him with a sort of boot. Iron caps will keep his claws from breaking again.”

“That’s very clever, but the stablemaster should be doing that, shouldn’t he?” Just a hint of cautious disapproval.

The raptor complains again, and gets a louder growl. “This one has an attitude problem, and likes to bite. That’s why his claws got too long to begin with.”

“Then why…?” He delicately leaves it dangling. I grin.

“I grew up in the jungle, around wild raptors. I know how to make myself sound like a bigger, meaner raptor than he is.”

Finish, stand up, and hand the lead rope to the stableboy that hurries up. The raptor reaches out to snap, but I smack the back of his neck and he subsides. Turn around finally, and the speaker is an older human male I’ve seen around sometimes, often talking with the higher-ranking Argents.

“There. Now, what did you want to speak with me about?”

He gestures after the raptor. “That, actually. That sort of thing. I’ve seen you around a lot, lending a hand when one is needed and not just training – although you certainly do that with a …ferver…that most competitors here lack.”

I snort. “You mean the ones that treat this-“ gesture to the construction going on all around “-as a game?”

His grey eyebrows go up. “You don’t think this is a game?” It’s a testing question.

Small grin, no teeth. “You Argents aren’t known for your boisterous parties and love of frivolity.” He laughs at the joke. “You’re known for your hatred of the Scourge, and whatever you’re planning with this…” I glance around before meeting his eyes. “…I want in.”

“And you don’t mind working with the Alliance races?” It’s not a question.

“Any weapon in a fight is better than none,” I reply calmly.

“Sensible.” He approves.

I grin. “Jungle.”

He smiles and nods, conceding the point, then sobers. “That’s the kind of attitude we like to see in the Argent Crusade. Have you considered taking the silver tabard?”

“A few of your people have asked, but…” I shrug. “They couldn’t offer me a position better than the one I have in the Horde."

He parts his cloak, showing the armor and tabard underneath. Now I recognize him.

“I am Highlord Tirion Fordring, and I am offering you a place within the Argent Crusade. Everything I have seen of you suggests that you will be a valuable weapon in the fight against the Lich King.”

Arikara comes at my silent call, coiling around me, tongue flicking out to taste the human.

“Forgive my arrogance for agreeing with you, my lord,” I begin, and he quirks an eyebrow. “This is a spirit of vengeance sent by the Earthmother to cleanse the world,” I explain. “There are certain abilities she possesses that make her an anti-Scourge weapon in her own right. She answers to me.” He nods, impressed and intrigued. “Unfortunately, I cannot accept your offer.”

“Why not?” He sounds ready to haggle for me.

“I am the instrument of my Warchief’s desire, and a weapon of my Warchief’s command.” I pull out the enameled pendant that I so rarely show anyone. “Ryxl Ironheart, Champion of the Warchief.”

He recognizes the devotion inherent in that. “I see. I’d have more luck convincing paladins to forsake the Light than I’d have trying to convince you to leave the Warchief’s service.” He grins to show he’s not offended by my refusal. “Thrall is lucky to have you. Would you accept an honorary rank?”

My grin answers his hopeful one. “Your goals do not conflict with the Warchief’s. I believe he would be pleased to have such an honor bestowed on his champion.”