Rhokk stirred, then slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Crison, who noticed he was awake and spoke quietly to someone nearby. That someone came into his field of vision, and suddenly he was filled with rage. As Barraccus looked down at him he started thrashing around, trying to get free, but the ropes were sturdy and securely knotted. He could barely hear Barraccus' voice. "Rhokk, please calm down. Talk to us, what is wrong?" He finally stilled, and glared at the death knight for a moment before he looked away, refusing to acknowledge either of the others.
After several minutes of trying to get Rhokk to talk to them, Barraccus finally gave up and looked helplessly at Crison. "Now what?" She shook her head, studying the draenei. "We need to make a more secure camp before it gets any darker. I'm sure you don't want to spend the night with the Scourge," she finally said.
They found a copse of reasonably sturdy trees and made a camp. They carefully loosened Rhokk’s bonds so that he could move a little and use his hands. Barraccus expected him to try and break free, but he sat still while they did it. He still refused to look at either of them and ignored the food they offered, until finally Barraccus left it sitting on the ground near him. When he looked back later, Rhokk hadn’t changed his position but the food was gone.
Two days later, Barraccus was at his wit’s end. Rhokk still would not acknowledge either of them. He did eat the food they gave him, but not until they left him alone. Crison was also out of patience, and suggested in a bit of temper that if Rhokk wanted to duke it out, she was more than ready. Finally Barraccus had enough. “I don’t know what else to do here. I think we should take him to Alanon. Maybe he can do something.” Crison agreed. “How are we going to get him there, though?” she asked. “I have another mount at Southshore," Barraccus told her. "Until we get there, we can take turns on yours, and Rhokk can ride mine. He’s steady enough.” “Alright then,” she replied. “Let’s get going.”
They wound up tying Rhokk to the saddle on Barraccus’ deathcharger. “I am sorry about this, Rhokk,” he said quietly. “I wish you would let us help you.” The draenei ignored him, and Barraccus sighed. They headed out, with Barraccus leading his charger by the reins. As they traveled, the death knights tried to make small talk in the hope that Rhokk might respond to something. “Does your charger have a name?” Crison asked Barraccus at one point. He turned to look at it while they walked. “Not yet,” he finally replied. “But I have an idea.” He didn’t elaborate, and after a few minutes Crison changed the subject.
That night after they made camp, Barraccus crouched down next to where Rhokk was sitting against a tree. The shaman turned his head away, not quite hiding the rage and hate in his eyes. Barraccus just looked at him sadly. "He did this to you, didn't he?" he whispered, just loud enough for Rhokk to hear. "Arthas is in your head somehow. I just hope we're not too late, and Alanon can help you." Rhokk stirred a little at that. "Don't say his name, murderer!" he whispered back hoarsely. Barraccus looked at him curiously, but the draenei had gone back to ignoring him, and he finally left him to go find his bedroll.
They reached Southshore just a couple days later, and Barraccus immediately went to the stable master to fetch Oscor. He saddled the saber quickly and transferred the packs over, then they set off toward home.