"Spirits of Evilness and Darkness, begone from this husk!", a woman chanted, almost naked, her body covered in ceremonial paintings. Then, as she danced around a fire, she recited several words that Argheros didn't understand. They were vaguely familiar, though... they sounded like a mix between Vrykul and human languages.
"Spirits of Goodness and the Sun, take hold within this bud", another woman sang, with a gentle and kind voice. She was almost naked too, but her body was entirely painted in green, and her tender parts were covered with leaves and vines.
They were performing an impressive ritual towards Raghek, the human that had been enslaved by the Legion Loyalists and forced to attack the Ambassadors. Irondawn contemplated the poor man, who was screaming and begging for his life to end. He had never seen a man going through so much pain only by listening to some chanting. He wasn't chained, he wasn't being hurt nor leashed. He was just in the middle of a Circle of Stones, next to a small fire, and the two women were only singing. But Raghek screamed as if a thousand lashes were flaying his skin.
"It is outstanding how these humans have been able to retain their bond with the spirits of nature...", Dunris murmured next to him. "Shamanism and Druidism among your people isn't quite common, right?"
"No, it isn't...", Argheros replied, amazed by the same.
These people had introduced themselves as the true Sons of Arathor, the last descendants of a line older than Strom itself. Argheros had hundreds of questions, but he feared they wouldn't find an answer yet. Their new hosts had provided food and water, good boar chops and mugs of dwarven ale. But before saying anything else, saving Raghek was a priority to them.
Most of their warriors and oracles had gathered around the circle of stones; even their leader, some sort of chieftain, had joined them. The man had a bushy beard, several tribal tattoos and a bear skin covered his shoulders. He had a helmet with polished deer antlers that he had removed from his head for the occasion. His golden hair had began to dye gray, but his aspect wasn't any less threatening.
He and his people kept an outstanding silence, only broken by Raghek's suffering and several Druids and Shamans who were also dancing towards the circle. The chieftain, his soldiers and the commoners all seemed mesmerized by the ritual, paying attention to every single detail.
And then, all of a sudden, Raghek stopped screaming, and the oracles ceased their dancing. The poor man fainted, and the women kneeled next to him. Both of them performed their own rituals: the Shaman painted Raghek's body, while the Druid covered the beaten warrior with several sacred herbs. The Barbarian chieftain gave a long sigh and then stood up.
"Who among our guests is the leader?", the chieftain finally asked with a thundering voice; all the Ambassadors stared at both Dunris and Argheros.
"We are", the orc answered, standing up as well.
"I see... but I will speak to no orc", the man spat on the tall grass and placed the horned helmet on his head once again; with it, he seemed even taller. "My men said they saw you fighting the other demon-loving brutes, but I'll be damned before truly trusting one of you."
"All these orcs among us are friends and honorable fighters", Argheros intervened, showing his allies with a gesture of his hand; he was somewhat angered by the chieftain's words. "I owe my life to most of them, and I would gladly give my own for them. I assure you there's no reason to doubt them."
"And I believe you, lad, and I do respect your honor. But that doesn't mean I'll trust them", the Barbarian insisted. "We despise orcs as much as we hate trolls and small humans like you... But I am a man of honor too, and you have been kind to my people. You could've killed Raghek and fought my men, but you respected their request and let the boy live. For this, I'll also be kind to you... I am told you have questions; join me in my tent and we shall talk."
Dunris shrugged, and gave a look to Irondawn that meant everything was fine. Fortunately, his Whiteclaw and Frostwolf allies were serene and patient people. The Paladin still felt furious about the chieftain's words, though, and he could only imagine the disaster Degarok could've caused if he had heard them too. The Blackrock orc was hot headed already, and he would've demanded blood for the insults. Sharing so much time with orcs seemed to be affecting Argheros, because he too wanted to demand blood. But he was full of curiosity about the Barbarians, so he set out to follow their leader.
They reached a large tent, made of rugged leather and covered with several types of leaves. Argheros also noticed it was set up under a couple of trees; it seemed as if these people worked really hard to remain hidden, even from possible eyes in the skies. Inside, there wasn't any throne nor special seat, only a circle of chairs and some armor racks. The chieftain sat down and invited his guest to do the same. There was no one else but them.
"My name is Rondalf the Bear", he introduced himself. "I am told you answer to the name of Irondawn. A strong name indeed, lad. Tell me, what do you wish to know?"
"Well... my question is quite simple, Rondalf the Bear. You claim to be the true Sons of Arathor, and I also carry said lineage within my veins. This is why I can't help but to wonder: who are you?"
"You already have the answer to that. Ask better questions", the chieftain responded, grabbing a sharpening stone to work on his broadsword.
"Very well then... why do you hide? What are you doing here?"
"Ah, better. You see, lad, for generations, we have made sure that nobody found us here", Rondalf started. "We hide because it was the only way to preserve our legacy. Our forefathers arrived on this land following the mighty Tyr, and they were side by side with King Thoradin when he united all the human tribes. Like us, the King was a follower of the Old Ways, but after his death, the arathorians began to change. Many of my ancestors retreated to the mountains, as they saw their traditions threatened by the new ways. Nobility, politics, courtiers... all those things became more important to the people of Strom. It was truly then when Strom ceased to exist, and the true arathorian ways were forgotten. We hid, and for hundreds of years we have struggled to stay true to the teachings of our forefathers, to keep them a secret...", then, the man stared at the edge of his weapon for several seconds, looking for the right words. "But the world is becoming a smaller place, and little by little our secret is unveiling. We used to have no trouble in avoiding contact with other humans, and our Wildhammer dwarven allies have always been silent about us. Azeroth is changing, though, and our people is in danger."
"You mean what happened to Raghek?"
"Yes... those Demon-loving orcs found us, I still don't know how. We never liked orcs, they arrived on our world and pretended it was their own. I saw with my own eyes what they did to the once beautiful prairies of Hillsbrad. When my scouts told me all orcs were being enslaved, I cheered and drank to Tyr's honor for an entire month!", the chieftain raised a victorious fist in the air; immediately after, he turned to meet Argheros' eyes with disappointment. "But then, your weak people allowed them escape. I would've executed them all; that's what they deserved. In any case", he continued as he reached for a couple of mugs and poured some ale in them, "the so-called Legion Loyalists have been hunting us down, capturing us, kidnaping us...", he offered one of the drinks to his guest. "I didn't know why until now. Raghek is the first one to ever return. What they did to him is the utmost sacrilege!"
"Chieftain, if your people hold within themselves the same strength that Raghek showed when we fought him, then you must be formidable fighters indeed! You must retaliate!", why was he worried about these Barbarians' fate all of a sudden? Rondalf laughed out loudly.
"Ah, lad, I see it in you. The fire of Strom burns in your eyes!", the man approached him quickly and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I too want to grab my sword and destroy these invaders! But the sages", he sighed, "in all their wisdom, are right as always. We can't leave our refuge, not only because of our sacred duty. With all this war at our very doorstep, our home is in danger."
"You mean the endless fighting at Stromgarde?", Irondawn wondered.
"Yes, those pathetic armies are destroying the holiness of these lands!", Rondalf barked, kicking one of the chairs with pure anger. "If the war reaches this part of the mountains, me and my warriors must be here to fight."
"Perhaps, there's a way we could help you", Argheros suggested. "Actually, a way we could help each other, to be more precise."
"What are you talking about, lad?", Rondalf seemed genuinely intrigued.
Argheros was improvising, and it was a weird feeling. He was not the follow your gut type when it came to diplomacy. Instead, he liked to plan things ahead. Until then, all he wanted was to know who these people were, but he had never thought of recruiting them. But there he was, explaining what the Embassy was to the chieftain, who listened in the same silence he had kept when Raghek was being purged.
"I can tell that a diplomatic solution wouldn't be your first choice, but it may be the only way for preserving this land", Irondawn finished.
Rondalf looked at the bottom of his empty mug, tasting the Paladin's words. What was the barbarian thinking? There was no emotion in his face, no sentiment; it was impossible to understand his eyes, and for a moment Argheros felt greatly intimidated. Surely these people were mysterious as they were fierce.
"Come with me, lad", the chieftain asked.
The barbarian left the tent and began what appeared to be a quiet stroll under the trees. Irondawn was intrigued. Surely this mighty Warrior didn't want to take a simple walk.
Soon, the sound of metal clashing against metal reached them. Under a huge oak, a circle of young combatants were wrestling. There was no instructor to command them.
"Do you see them? They grow in both strength and honor. No one tells them when they have been defeated, for they know it themselves. Our warriors train hard, so our people can live on."
Some combatants were fighting with swords, shields and axes, while others had no weapons at all. A woman sage was sitting under the tree, watching them, surrounded by a cloud of smoke. She seemed to be in some sort of trance, but her eyes still witnessed the entire training.
Rondalf walked towards the oak's trunk. Next to the sage, there was an entrance to a cave among the roots. Argheros followed the chieftain as he entered the hole.
Several torches lighted the place up. There were several paintings on the dirt walls, but the most impressive ones were carved on the thickest roots. Several arathorians were down there too, some worshiping the paintings, others copying the runes as tattoos on their bodies.
"The animal spirits are also our allies. Even though our ancestors didn't believe in the strength of the Beast Gods, generation after generation we learned to find wisdom in their teachings. We have been able to survive thanks to our shapeshifters, who have been our eyes and ears across these lands."
Rondalf left the cave, once again inviting Irondawn to follow him. Still, the Paladin didn't quite understand what the chieftain wanted. It was like a brief cultural lesson, and Argheros wanted to enjoy it. He wanted to feel the excitement of finding this lost tribe; he wanted to feel the connection to the most pure arathorian legacy. But he was growing impatient, and he wanted an answer to his request.
Outside, the barbarian stopped at a circle of stones, also covered by tall trees. Four huge menhirs stood out among the others, each one with a single rune carved on it. Irondawn had seen stones like these: elemental shrines.
Indeed, what appeared to be some Shaman trainees were copying the runes on their very own small boulders. They were being taught to carve their own elemental totems.
"The spirits of the World have also been our allies, and they have safeguarded us for generations. No other human tribe has counted with their blessing for hundreds of years now. You can only think that, by staying true to them, we are their chosen ones."
"Rondalf, what's your point?", Argheros finally asked. "I am honored to have the opportunity of knowing the legacy of Arathor, but what is it that you want to show me?"
"Orcs and trolls have corrupted everything that we hold sacred. Orcs speak about honor, but they are blood driven monsters who spit on true honor. Trolls have enslaved and tortured the Beast Gods on every occasion they had. And both those races have forced the elements to fight for them", the barbarian wasn't angry, but his voice tone was harsh and unforgiving. "Do you think we will ever work with those mongrels?"
The Paladin understood he was before a man of rooted traditions. For this, he wasn't angry either. He could only think of Dunris, his brothers, and the Whiteclaws. How mistaken this man was about the orcs.
"I have fought against humans", Argheros found himself saying. "We have no respect for nature, no tolerance for animals, no ears for the elements, and a higher sense of duty more than honor."
"I am a human, and such insolence isn't within me!", Rondalf answered, disgusted.
"Precisely. Nobody should be judged for the actions of others. Can you say you've met all the orcs and all the trolls? I have met the worst humans and the best orcs, but still I am in no position to judge all of their people. I am a Paladin, and my honor commands me to judge everyone for their own actions."
"Open your eyes, lad, and your ears. If you listen carefully, you can hear the sound of the war, miles away from here. Can your Embassy stop that?"
"I don't know", Argheros admitted. "But only by working together we can achieve peace."
"Peace! Didn't you give a good look at us, lad? We are warriors! Our lives are dedicated to prepare for the moment when we will defend our homes! You want peace, but we can only give you strife."
"Perfect then", Irondawn smiled; he wasn't willing to put his arms down. "A great Warrior once said: Peace is the noblest of aspirations, but to preserve it, you must be willing to fight. We want the same, and we are willing to do the same to achieve it."
"The boy is right, Bjornsveinn", a soft voice spoke.
A hunched woman approached them slowly but with a firm stride. There was no way of guessing her age, but her skin showed no place for an additional tattoo. She was a walking rune, and even though her aspect was quite intimidating, her deep blue eyes were kind and even joyful.
"I am no sveinn", Rondalf answered with annoyance in his voice.
"Shush, Bjornsveinn, I need to see the soul of this fine young man. Come closer", she asked Argheros.
Before the Paladin could react, the woman pulled him towards her with an unusual strength for someone so old and small. For a couple of long seconds, she stared at his eyes, their faces four inches away of each other.
"Such wonderful soul! You have the blood of our people coursing through your veins. I can feel it! Why don't you want to help him?", she asked then, glaring at Rondalf.
"You already know why we can't spare any warrior, Kandra", the chieftain answered. "Wasn't you one of those who voted against leading the fight to our enemies? Also, have you been listening to our conversation?"
"Every word of it", she answered with a huge smile. "And, my kind Bjornsveinn, the way I see it, this kind young man isn't really asking for swords to fight."
"I just believe we can benefit from each other's efforts", Irondawn explained. "With the right negotiations, we can make sure your land won't be threatened by either the Horde nor the Alliance. And we can focus on the most urgent threat: the Loyalists."
"But first, you need a victory", Kandra finished for him. "You and your companions need to prove yourselves to the Horde and the Alliance. You need to shout to the winds what you want to do, and how you are going to do it."
"Indeed... I'm not asking for an army. I only need your support", Argheros explained, looking at Rondalf.
"If you want to travel through the mountains without being noticed, you will need more than our support... you'll need our help", the chieftain answered with a long sigh.
"Oh! I think I know just the right person to guide you", Kandra added with her warm smile. "He's so eager to repay the kindness you extended to him."