Tigers Fall

Tiger's Fall

=Tainted Heart: Five Months Ago= By Alisza

Five months ago…

The chamber was dark. The scent of must, mold and death filled the air. A large skull rested on a pile of bones in the corner, the dead, empty eyes dark and soulless. Cobwebs hung from the dirt and rock walls, swaying in the heat rising from the blood candles. The purple glint of soulshards glowed in the candles’ light from a shelf where a snake lifted it’s scaled head. The souls inside the gems darted about their crystal prisons, their brilliance waning and intensifying as they tried to escape. The nearly silent sound of their screams joined the slither of the snake’s scales as the only sounds in the room.

A hooded and cloaked figure sat at a bench, it’s posture tense, as if waiting. Long, pale fingers moved over a silver-bladed dagger. A ruby adorned its hilt and the fingers traced the channels along the blade. Her husband had once told her they were meant to channel blood away from the hilt of the blade to keep it from getting slick after use. She had reason to know it worked. She smiled and caressed the blade that the idiot Scarlet Crusader had given her so long ago. This was the blade that had killed her sister. This was the blade with which she had stolen Sannia’s future. This was the blade that, only months ago, took the life of her Fel bedamned husband.

He’d discovered her little secret, had come into her chambers while she’d been berating the imp. He’d threatened to expose her. She could remember his face, how it purpled with rage as he’d threatened divorce, how he’d threatened to toss her on the street, calling her Sannia all the while. She would have enjoyed it, if he had been yelling at her bitch of a sister.

Sannia had never deserved the attention she’d gotten, not as a child, not as a woman. Her parents had doted on Sannia – had given her everything that Alizsa deserved. She was prettier, more powerful. She had deserved their love! She had been the one that needed them, not Sannia!

Alizsa cursed. She’d succeeded in stealing her sister’s husband, her riches and power – her entire future, but even from the grave, Sannia tormented her. There was a blast of sulphur and her imp, Begnar appeared before her, scraping and bowing.

“Mistress’s, sister Begnar found! Footprints trod upon the ground. Booted steps from burial mound Body filled with life, profound.”

The imp’s voice cackled madly, it’s rhyming a symptom of the torture Alizsa had subjected it to when first she summoned it. At least the voice was obsequious, as she required. It moved to kiss the hem of her robe and she kicked it, sending it slamming into the pile of bones in the corner. They clattered to the floor, the stale pieces of a childhood friend of Sannia’s sounding hollow in the dead air of the room.

“That bitch! Even now she wins! How?” The imp picked itself up, neatly avoiding another kick by it’s Mistress’s slippered foot.

“Sweet Mistress, pretty Mistress Sister causing heart distress Begnar did not tell all

Of Mistress’ sister’s fall.”

The imp laughed, the madness in its voice sending the wretched tones ringing through the bare rafters of the ceiling and shaking a spider from its web.

“Tell me, you wretched clown! Or I shall give you to the Felguard!” Alizsa’s voice snapped and there was immediate silence. This time, she allowed the imp to kiss her hem.

“Pretty Mistress… sister walks

Body decays through the days.

She laughs, talks, family takes,

Never living, life forsakes. Tiger’s claw, Tiger’s tail

Harbor’s sister, ‘neath shark’s sail.”

Alizsa’s eyes widen, and she laughs with triumph. “She is Forsaken!” Her eyes narrow. “But what is this harbor beneath the shark’s sail you speak of?” She holds her hand up, forestalling words from the imp. “No, don’t speak, little filth. I tire of your rhyming.”

“Tiger’s claw… and tail… and a harbor. You little beast, I should not have broken you so quickly!” She tapped her lips with a long, sharp nail, ignoring the whimpering mass at her feet. “There is a large shark on display in Booty Bay… do you mean there, Begnar?” She grabbed the imp, ignoring the green flames that licked up her arms, and shook him. “No, don’t open your mouth. Nod. Yes or no.”

The imp nodded frantically and Alizsa smiled. She would go to Booty Bay and see what there was to see. She dropped Begnar and strode from the room, plans already forming in her mind.

=Tainted Heart: Four Months Ago=\ By Alisza

Four months ago…

Alizsa sat on a rooftop next to the fish monger’s store in Booty Bay. The stench of the large shark reached her nostrils and she grimaced. It had taken all of her skill to climb the roof and not fall off. Her new silk slippers hadn’t fared well on the rough, salt-eaten tiles and she had broken a nail. It would be worth every effort though, it all would. She just had to verify Begnar’s information. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the imp, she knew it was far too afraid of her to lie, but the fact that Sannia was alive was just –too- unbelievable.

Several people walked into the monger’s, a bald human with a blonde beneath his arm, several trolls. A large Forsaken man sauntered in, his walk a swinging gesture that made him appear to roll with every step. A few more of the rotting corpses followed a large, very intimidating orc. A large, floppy-brimmed hat shaded his eyes and Alizsa snorted. Those savages had no idea of fashion. She patted her intricately coifed hair and smirked.

And then… could it be her? Alizsa narrowed her eyes. The figure’s movement was familiar, that confident strumpet’s strut that drew the eye of every man, but it was too far away. Well, that was easily taken care of. She closed her eyes and concentrated, forming a ball of glowing light between her hands. She had to be careful – there were some that could see her collected magic and destroy it.

She sent the eye down the side of the building, nearly to the water, before allowing it to rise up the stairs, hidden in the shadow of the banister. She paused as the ugly little goblin paced the room below, then darted up to hover in the glare of a torch. Many were gathered here… the Tigers that Begnar had mentioned? They wore claws on their chests and, although Horde and Alliance were gathered together, there was no bloodshed. They gestured to each other and spoke, although she could not hear through the eye. She dipped below the torch, flowing down the wall to puddle in the sunlight near the door.

She carefully looked over every creature in the room. No… none of them could be her sister. A movement in the corner caught her eye. There, behind that wretch of a Forsaken. Yes! Sannia! It –was- her. Despite the dead color of her flesh, the ragged hair, it definitely was Sannia.

Alizsa nearly fell off the roof as she looked at her sister through the green distortion of her magic. It was true. The bitch walked. Well… that would only allow Alizsa more chance for revenge. Her concentration wavered and the eye disappeared. She laughed. It didn’t matter. Sannia’s first death at her hands had been too fast. Too easy. The bitch deserved a long, painful death, because knowing her sister, Sannia would easily find a way to be happy, even as a rotted corpse.

These Tigers appeared to be meeting here and she doubted this would be the last time. She could easily follow her sister and find a way to destroy her – to destroy them. After all, they took Sannia in. Anyone that harbored her sister deserved to die.

=A Truth Discovered= By Nerrok

Nerrok casually strode into The Slow Blade, the Horde-side's base of operations for The Grey Tiger Tong. The muscled orc had a pleasant smile decorating his usually grim features, no doubt on account of the recent rendevous he'd had with his lady-friend he'd been frequenting of late...Visions of her jet-black hair and emerald green eyes flickering within his consciousness as he greeted Kareth, the shopkeeper.

"Nerrok...Letter from Undermine, addressed to the Tiger Master of the Horde. I guess ya might wanna take a look at it...", the orc mumbles, before going about his usual business of sharpening blades and taking care of "company business".

Nerrok narrowed his eyes...The pleasantness of his countenance disentegrating instantly. No wonder Booth had run off, he thought to himself. The paperwork alone that required a Tiger Master's attention would drive one mad.

He took the note, and tore open the envelope. The following is what he read, though before Nerrok could finish reading it's entirety, he lost track of time...Indeed, he lost track of his entire being.

"Za'Baal's work has been diligent. He has come to us numerous times in search of answers for the dissapearance of Su'Jin, though unfortunately we could not provide the solution. He should be commended for his work. He is indeed an asset to The Tong, and should be commended as such."

The note went on in excrutiating detail of how Za'Baal had tried doggedly to locate his lost sister, and the trials and tribulations that had accompanied his efforts. Much sweat, pain and bloodshed had gone into the task of locating Su'Jin, on Za'Baal's part.

As Nerrok's blood-red gaze followed the letters down the page, the crimson hue of his vision became, slowly but surely, icey blue with hatred. It didn't take long for the Hunter to put the pieces together.

He had been tricked. Booth had manipulated him. Indeed, he had manipulated every single member of The Tong itself...Claw, Officer, Vanguard, and Master alike. But his former Tiger Master had tricked him the most of all. He had made him think that Za'Baal, the Troll that had inducted him into the Tong...Brought him into the organization that most resembled the closest thing to a family he had ever had....had been a traitor. Nerrok remembered vividly the early fall day that he had led young Korttie away, so that Booth could shove a knife into the troll's temple. He remembered carrying the body, disguised in an empty fish salt sack, to the far reaches of Stonetalon to be disposed of. If he were a traitor, why would he have searched for his lost Sister with such determination? The clues simply did not add up to what he was told to believe. Anger became Rage in an instant, and Nerrok seized the shopkeeper by the throat...hefting the rather large Orc up by one arm, pinning him against the wall as he hissed out his words, his Blood Fury getting the best of him as he took out his frustrations on the poor fellow.

"If you see that lecherous zombie...You tell me. He has tricked me...You...Us. He is no longer your master....", Nerrok struggles to spit out the rest of his words, overcome with grief. "He is no longer welcome here, nor anywhere within The Tong's juridiction. You tell me...For I will not rest until his traitorous blood is painting these walls..."

With that, he lets the orc down, who collapses onto the floor, clutching his throat and gasping for breath. "I...I will, Nerrok...I swear upon Thrall's honor...", he rasps, knelt onto one knee.

The wounded shopkeeper could not stop the rampaging hunter from tearing the shop apart in anguish. Tables were overturned, blades were jammed into the tent walls...The entire Slow Blade was ruined in essence, thanks to Nerrok's uncontrollable fury at this news.

Gathering his thoughts outside the gate of Orgrimmar, he slowly and silently approached the Zepplin platform. Nerrok clutched the note in his fist....Having never experienced his rage at these heights. How could he have been so blind...?, he wondered aloud to himself.

He needed to see Her...To hold Her...To kiss Her...To feel the warmth of Her flesh against his own, to hear her soothing voice comfort his tormented mind. Anything to calm him down, which only She could, at this point. But before that, he had to get this note to Tai Jiang...To explain to him what had happened. To explain to him how he had been betrayed. Indeed....To explain how the entire Tong had been stabbed, literally and figuratively, in the temple.

With his eyes, the windows to his very soul, colored amber and slit diagonally as the zepplin departed for Booty Bay, the spirit of The Hawk possessed the green-skinned hunter.

The Hunt begins.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry= By Sannia

Vastly troubled by the last guild meeting, anger wrapped tightly about her mind. Entering into battle, she fought side by side with Deggar, defending the Lumber Mill. Focusing and honing her skills, she gained recognition...and after all said and done, rewarded with an Insigna.

Settling atop the bank's roof, a place she had come to enjoy, her thoughts traveled back again to the last time she saw him. Honing her blades, she carefully applied poison. Could he still be there? Could she take him down for the Tong?-- his power so much stronger than her own.....rage surged again with the word of how he betrayed them all. She didn't understand the details of it, only having gathered from what was said and watching Nerrok, with Tai Jiang reactions.

Decided.

She had to check. Moving through the city, she made her way out of town. Traveling long and far, she finally reached the destination.. and slipped into the shadows, weapons ready.

A butt of a cigarette flicked in her direction, along with his familiar sarcastic tone. He was here! But yet,-- He had heard her steps. Then she saw him, sitting there. The man she had grown to respect, a mentor in learning the world at large. Her hands tightened on the daggers, the hilts suddenly feeling hot and slippery. Ready for the battle of her lifetime.. yet even now, she recalled his teachings.. if he had wanted her dead, she would have been so already...

He wasn't wearing the hat.

That hit her like a spear through the guts. Destroying all anger and defenses.

She couldn't do it.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry=

Sannia coiled to sit down upon the mattress of her room. Journal in hand, she carefully applied Tai Jiang's gift, wrapping the book cover around the treasure. "Sam", a winter veil's gift from Nerrok, slithered about protectively, forked tongue flickering the very air tasting the quality. Fingers smoothed down the front, before moving to stroke the crimson serpent's spine.

Cracking open the volume, she leaned picking up the quill from the nightstand, swirling it into ink bottle. Should she dare write her secret thoughts? It ached every day she kept things hidden, so precious.. yet the line she chose to walk, grew dangerous. The end would most likely be deadly, if not downright agony. No good could come of it.. yet it is what it is.

She stared at the faded blank page. Thoughts and emotions swirled in her Forsaken mind, torn loves, friendships and developing new relationships. Sam's head poked under her arm, before moving across the open book, going still, blocking her quill. Chuckling quietly, she sighed with a nod, taking that as a sign. Putting everything to the side, she petted her snake, coo'ing softly.

=A Tainted Heart: Three Months Ago= By Alisza

Three months ago…

Begnar capered at her feet, eager to do it’s Mistress’ bidding. A mithril cup was caught in it’s flaming hands, the herbal concoction within it bubbling, emitting foul noises and a stench to wake the dead.

“Magic flash

Within the glass.

Begnar send

Lives to end. Poison minds

Revenge to find!”

Alizsa rolled her eyes.

“I should have cut out your tongue, little filth. At least then I could not hear your insane babbling!” She resisted the urge to kick out at the imp, not wanting to spill the potion she’d spent the last month preparing.

“Take that to Sannia. Put it in her water or food. We shall have our revenge, Begnar. She will love him. He has left the Tong and we shall blast two birds with one shadowbolt.”

The imp nodded, laughing, it’s voice grating along her nerves like chain on bone. It did not speak, not wanting to feel it’s Mistress’ anger, but it could not contain it’s laughter. She could be brutal when she was angry. He had been the target of her rage often enough.

“The potion will cloud her judgment, enflame her mind. She shall think herself in love! And, if he doesn’t love her back, it shall only rip her heart the more!” Alizsa laughed, unaware that her cackling sounded strangely like the imp’s. “Think of it, Begnar! A corpse, thinking it still has a heart! I shall destroy them all!”

The imp slipped out, leaving it’s Mistress to her laughter at the thought of her revenge.

Poisoning Sannia with it’s Mistress’ love potion should have been easy. The Forsaken woman was often alone. Begnar slipped into her room, careful to keep it’s flames from setting fire to anything. He danced up on the bed, smelling the peach creams Sannia rubbed into her skin. It buried it’s face in her pillow, bringing the scent into it’s little lungs with a vulgar hiss.

”Mistress say Sister betray. Begnar smell Goes to hell! Might be worth

Furrowing that earth!”

It laughed at it’s vulgar rhyming, pulsing it’s little hips as it capered and tumbled over the covers. A sound at the door brought a frightened squeak from its mouth. It hurriedly dumped the potion into the goblet on the night table, tripping over the feminine fripperies as it tried to scamper away. The mithril chalice tumbled from it’s hands, rolling beneath the bed, only to wedge itself against the wall.

Sannia stood for a moment in the doorway, speaking with someone. “What was that?” The rogue turned into her room, looking around suspiciously. Begnar rapidly faded, forgetting about the cup in its eagerness to get away.

=A Tainted Heart: Two and Half Months Ago= By Alisza

Two-and-a-half months ago…

The Felfire burned as she gathered it in her palms. Spectral pustules formed on her hands and arms, but she pushed through the pain. They would blister later, oozing toxic magic that would make her wish she were dead. It would be worth it, it would all be worth it if the spell worked. It had become her mantra over the past several months as she toiled, spying on her sister, studying the shadow magics.

Her potion had worked. She’d followed her sister several times, and discovered her meeting with the foul Forsaken male she’d seen that first time in Booty Bay. She hadn’t been able to understand the mush that came out of their decaying mouths, but their actions – those she’d understood. The man wanted her, in his womanizing, domineering way. And her sister… she would give in… and in the giving, would become her own destruction.

A change in the ball of Felfire brought her attention back and she smirked. She was no priest, but she knew a few in the shadows and had bartered for the knowledge of this spell. Darkness danced at her fingertips as Betram stepped from the other side of the fire. He began chanting, his voice harsh in the smoke from her fire.

“Picture her, Alizsa – form her image in your mind. Hold it strongly.”

They clasped hands and the priest shuttered his eyes, their chanting rising above them like sparks captured in the heat of a flame. With a final cry, they cast their combined magic out into the darkness of the night. The compulsion would travel until it met its target. It would strengthen the potion Begnar had given Sannia weeks earlier.

Her sister’s admiration would turn, change. The man’s nature would require he take her without Alizsa’s help. The spell was the final step in sealing their fate. Sannia would be captured, her natural emotions twisted, turned into tools to be used against them – against this new family she had formed.

The love Alizsa had created with her potion would turn to lust. It would be consummated, and they would lose everything. Tearing each other apart, as well as the filth that harbored her.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry= By Sannia

Air whipped her hair as she raced! The hollow clops of the horse she rode echoed through the streets! Laughter bubbled up and out with sheer joy!

It had been so long since she rode a horse...she had almost forgotten the pleasure it was. Memories flooded her mind, racing her sister 'Lizsa through Northshire forests, ducking limbs, leaping over rocks, splashing their way through streams. Their father had a stable full of mounts, but her favorite had always been Greystorm, a white stallion with a silvery-grey mane and tail.

She pranced the newly acquired beast before Nerrok and Nargesh, as they sat atop a roof, discussing possible recruits. Grinning she turned and raced off, heels kicking in the sides of the bluish equine, folks cursed out of her way.

She wanted speed! To run wild through the lands! While heading towards Undercity, she suddenly pulled up short. Booth sat grinning at her from under his hat, lounging an arm over his own horse's saddle. His quiet easy drawl came approving of her skills. He had always been able to find her, no matter where she was or what she was doing.. appearing out of no where.

Breaking into a bright smile, she returned his greetings. She had missed him terribly and apparently the sentiment was mirrored. He rode with her, guiding and leading her north. They raced and laughed. It was a long journey, this place he wanted to show her.. over mountains and dangerous creatures.. but finally they arrived at the ruins. High Elven history, laid spewn across the landscape. The moon held light over them, stars twinkled as she explored the buildings and docks.

Booth came up behind her, whispering in her ear, holding her there as they gazed out over the waters. Plans and dreams to find sanctity among the heavens. Leading her to the temple, she gave him a Winter Veil's gift.. a white-gold pocket watch, scrolled with the initial B. She had it specially crafted, holding a lock of her hair in the back, and other various details, Booth would enjoy...in the secret chamber. It became one of four things he treasured. A confession followed, professing emotions and admitting loves, his gift to her.

The night turned glorious. In the morning they parted, promises and last, lingering touches faded as she rode back to her home.

=A Tainted Heart: Two Months Ago= By Alisza

Two months ago…

Alizsa crouched behind a bush, her eyes locked on the two Forsaken. It had worked! She absently scratched at an oozing packet of pus on her arm, stopping herself as the acid of the magic burned into her skin. Yes, it had worked!

They embraced, flesh hanging raggedly from wrists and elbows – bones visible through skin that had gone translucent with death.

They touched and kissed, cooed as lovers do. She nearly gagged at the thought of that thing’s worm of a tongue in her sister’s mouth, of those long, bony fingers on her body. She shuddered. It was too fitting. She’d killed Sannia to keep her from becoming the duke’s whore, only to send her into the arms of a walking corpse.

She watched a moment more as they began to strip each other frantically. Her stomach turned and Alizsa slipped away, struggling to control her urge to vomit until she was safe.

She’d seen all she needed to see. Her plans would come to fruition. All she need do now was sit back and wait. Destruction would come. Her revenge would be complete.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry= By Sannia

Dear Journal,

''Dark Lady Help me. So many things have changed in my life.. but the most pressing and dangerous is my love for a forsaken man. He is wanted from nearly every fraction, my company wants him put down and the orc I hold dearly to my heart, has a personal vendetta against this outlaw. I am so torn with the emotions that have come to life, waging war against each other. I have not seen Deggar in ages, and I think he would kill me on the spot anyway, should he ever learn who I am consorting with...or if was given orders to do so.. I do not doubt this outcome.''

Sannia stared at the written words, her insides churned and burned hotly, aching, knotting. She felt sick. Conscience sought to slay her emotions. She honestly loved Nerrok as a brother she never had, respecting him greatly, he and the rest of the Tong her family now. Was she as bad as her sister? Keeping the knowledge of Booth to herself? Protecting the enemy? Who could she talk to this about? Who to trust? She had no one, without risking everything. She was scared.

''... What to do? Love verses everything else in the world. Could it even hope to survive? How to choose? Dark Lady guide me.''

Tears welled and dropped onto the page, spreading the ink into a artful splotch. Closing the book she thrust it between her mattresses, rocking with her arms about her middle. Shoving everything to the back of her mind, her features smoothed, the turmoil, once again, hidden away.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry= By Sannia

Sannia watched Nerrok test Justyc, wielding weapons, the clashing echoed off the mountain sides. The very air was tangible with Orc Hunter's anger. The new girl was exceptionally skilled with her blades, and blindingly fast. She got several good hits upon Nerrok, hissing out that his fury was making him slow! The battle ended with Justyc taking to kneel, both bleeding badly. She wrapped up the undead woman, then moved towards Nerrok, to do the same. He quickly slapped at Sannia's hands as she tried to bandaged the wounds, and began to rage at Justyc, talking about betrayals, her stomach curled into a hot, tight core of knots. She felt sick, feverish. Nerrok shoved through them, barking out that Justyc was hired..giving Sannia a parting suspicious glance... the pain that surged from her guilty conscience made her realize how much she truly loved their boss Nerrok, as a brother she never had. He was family. The Tong was family. They were an every day part of her life.

In her bedroom, she flung herself to her bed, bare traces of Booth's scent lingered. Nerrok had to know, she thought.. his sense of smell was beyond ordinary. He was the best Hunter in the lands. The undead rarely cry.. yet she found herself sobbing into the pillow, miserable, scared and curled with heartbreaking pain. What to do??! Who to choose? She began to whisper repeatedly, "Dark Lady help me." Please.

=Sannia's Dream= By Sannia

A lone figure walked slowly through the haze of Shimmering Flats. The familiar cowboy swagger soon became apparent as she watched him approach.

Whispering softly into her ear was the Dark Lady, standing behind her. Steeltusk snorted at the hem of Sannia's leather kilt. "That one's fate is sealed."

Suddenly a roaring vibrated the very ground! The Lady Sylvanas' arm slipped around her waist, holding her still to wait and watch.

Nerrok burst from the grounds, eyes a brilliant red, glowing horrifically. Anger poured off his skin, blending with the sheen from the sands. Weapons glinted, hurting her sight. He was charging the steadily walking forsaken. Icefang and Steeltusk lunged into action, loping after their Orc companion, all intents of gouging, ripping and shredding flesh apart.

She met Booth's eyes and he gave her a single smile, reserved only for her..his gaze sad and regretful. Then he vanished with a snap of his fingers. The battle commenced, the Rogue Boss's daggers flashed expertly, getting Nerrok into a wicked stunlock, immobilizing... but the pets attacked in unison, from different directions, ripping into Booth's legs, sweeping them out from under him.

Nerrok staggered, blood pumping out of a sliced wound.. there was so much red splattering the white sands of Desolace. Somewhere she heard screaming, a wailing...high keen sound. It was coming from her lips. The Dark Lady's arm tightened, her voice whispering. "You will loose them both. You have only one choice."

It happened in slow motion, Nerrok's lance, glowing thrusted with a murderous intent, piercing Booth's heart, slicing sideways to split his spine, severing nervous systems. The betrayer folded like a rag doll at the Hunter's feet. Weapon pulled out, lifted as Nerrok bellowed with victory, a primal warrior with a bestial fury.

"Go to him,.. one final time." Sylvanas voice echoed.

Released, she ran for the crumpled body...even as she gathered up his broken figure, the light was fading from his eyes.. rattling words came out..'Sannia..' 'The Stars...' Hugging him, she rocked with the loss. A midnight cool touch her temples...emotions, memories rippled, easing.. Booth vanished in a whirlwind of dust.

She looked up to see Nerrok bleeding out. Renewed energy flowed into her legs as she stood and hurried over to him, kneeling. He didn't slap her hands away this time, as she quickly began to staunch the wound, yet it wouldn't heal.. it cut to deep.. treachery, betrayal, anger. His eyes blazed with demon light. Sylvanas gathered his pets, surrounding them in a healing veil, lending strength. He would live, his destiny the Dark Lady hushed, has yet to be fulfilled.

Lady Tattersall awoke with a gasping cry, the dream still visible before her eyes...and the Dark Lady's words haunting the very room. "Choose."

=Windows to the Soul=

By Taai

The Previous Night

Taai made her way to the Slow Blade, a pathway which had become familiar to her, though she still treaded cautiously. Nodding to Kareth, she made her way inside the office, making use of Nerrok's renovated cooking space, lightly frying up the fresh trout she caught earlier. He said he was working late, so she made a recipe that would stay edible for hours. Fresh bread, spread with creamy butter accompanied the meal. A flask of rum at hand.

--- When the Hunter finally arrived to sleep, she helped him out of his armor and weapons, setting them upon appropriate racks. During the meal he informed her he needed some time away, he loves her, and not to worry about him. Pfft. Easier said then done. But as her nature, she didn't pry, trusting in him completely and accepting what he needed to do.

Taai tugged him from the meal, and ordered him to lay down on the bed. Strong rogue fingers sought out the knots of heavy shoulder muscles, working and massaging sore, aching areas upon Nerrok's broad back. Once she felt him relax, fingerpads would lightly caress his temples, soothing and easing him into a sleep.

Gazing lovingly down at him, she curled up next to his slumbering figure, sharing the warmth of bodies, wrapping him into a tight hug, sinking peacefully into dreams.

By Nerrok

Nerrok burst into The Slow Blade rather violently, the massive orc shirtless, his green skin covered in sweat. Various cuts and slices created by daggers wielded in skillfull hands lined his bare chest and abdomen, though he ignored the pain that came with the oozing blood. Indeed, the sensation only seemed to feed his already-boundless rage. Crimson eyes flared with demonic potency, his fanged maw seemed to be foaming, and bulging veins erupted along his arms, chest and neck, pulsating with the beat of his heart that, in this particular moment, was blackened with pure, unadulterated hate. As he struggled to where his satchels were stored between bouts of blacking out, he had no idea how he had managed to not rip the new recruit's spine out of her mouth and strangle her with it as he tested the mouthy, hissing Forsaken that Sannia had introduced as "Justyc". Her words...Her challenge...Had stoked a fire that had been burning for days, now. Ever since he'd caught wind of Booth's scent...On one of the few people that he would entrust his very life to(Besides his pets)...Gladly allow her to take it, in her hands, with the strongest and most devout of faith. It was still there, on her, tonight. It drove him to frenzy...A frenzy he was just barely containing, by the thinnest of margins.

Kareth, the store's Orcish shopkeeper, having just finished up his nightly chores and preparing to head to bed, turned toward the source of the disturbance...Taking one look at Nerrok and mumbling something along the lines of "Oh, shit..." before dropping the bundle of throwing knives he was set to put on display, and making a beeline for his sleeping quarters. Nerrok ignored him, by The Light's Grace...Gathering up the things of his that he identified as being vital; his weapons, his armor, a canteen...Much like a small child would pack his things up in terrible fear to run away from an abusive parent.

He heaved in ragged breaths as he tore out his comm unit, throwing it onto the ground before turning and sprinting out the doorway like the Lord Kazzak himself were chasing after him. He had to get far...Far, far away...Where no one could find him...Where this beast he was turning into couldn't harm anyone. Even his most trusted companions were left behind, Icestorm, Steeltusk and Ironfang running after him, tireless from worry and seeming in a frenzy themselves as they shared their master's grief, only to lose him in the darkened Orgrimmar streets. The trio of animals would pull up short as he faded from view...Scuttling around each other in a devasted, confused circle, before Ironfang would sit back on his haunches, threw his head back and howled as loud as he'd ever howled.

Icestorm replied by roaring his anguish, and the hulking boar which was Steeltusk stamped his hooves in frustration, squealing and grunting in agony. Even their mental link between their master, the strongest of bonds capable of being forged between man and beast, were severed, thanks to the cloud that had descended upon Nerrok's mind. They eventually returned to The Blade, sulking, where Kareth took to them as best he could...The orc Shaking his head slightly as he silently wished for Nerrok to return, safe, sound and sane...Though he knew even if it were possible...From what he'd seen this night, and what he knew of his boss...It wouldn't be an overnight occurrence.

By Taai

Not to worry he said.....the next day when she couldn't reach him on the comm., she waged war against fretting and an overactive imagination. Remember to breath. That always helps. Oh, and so does Rum., thankfully there was a healthy stock of it always around the office.

By Krelle

Kareth looked up sharply as the door opened, then let out an audible sigh of relief. It was just the girl.

Krelle entered with a winsome smile, shutting and latching the door behind her. "G'mornin, Kareth! Is Nerrok in? I got news for 'im, and that lazy man's got his comm... " she trailed off. All three of Nerrok's pets where there, whinning at her, clearly agitated. Kareth looked like a man walked a tightrope and Nerrok's armour was missing from its pegs on the back wall.

"Ah," the orc fumbled. "Well, now, Krelle, Nerrok is um, he needed to uh, ... for a few days."

Krelle frowned at him, slowly crossing her arms. The girlish enthusiasm was gone, and she spoke sharply to the orc. "Make sense, Kareth. We're moving on Ratchet. Nerrok needs to be here. What happened?"

Kareth sat down, rubbing his face with greasy hands. He looked exhausted. Krelle stared at him pitilessly, waiting for an explanation. He sighed and spoke more slowly.

"Nerrok came in the other day," he said simply. "He was in a rage. He took his things and left. I've seen it before, Krelle. When he's that angry, he knows that he's a threat to others. He's gone of to regain some self control, and he'll be back. A few days. A week at most."

Krelle was not impressed. "A week, just to calm down?"

Kareth sat, staring at the floor, rubbing his hands absently together as though washing them. "You need to understand, girl. It's not just him... the war was not so long ago."

Krelle nodded slowly. She head read about the great war against the humans, before the scourge. Many orcs, desperate for an edge in the battle against a much more numerous foe, had accepted the taint of the demons in exchange for prowess in battle. They had gained enourmous strength, but had also become berserkers. It was said that the taint could never be fully cleansed... But that had been a long time ago. Years, even. It troubled her that someone she cared about would be so affected by what she considered old history.

"Well, damn," she said softly. Who would lead their forces in Ratchet, and coordinate with the alliance side of the Tong? As much as they all respected the humans, she somehow did not imagine that Nargesh, for one, would be inclined to listen to orders from Tai in the heat of a battle. Especially if he didn't like those orders.

Krelle's gaze returned to Kareth. The orc looked uhappy, but resigned.

"We need him back, Kareth. He has to be here, and functioning, tomorrow. We don't have time for this."

Kareth shrugged his broad shoulders. "He left his comm here, miss. I don't see how you could contact him, since even I don't know where he went to. We'll just have to hope that he comes back in time."

"Hope is for the living," she said harshly in Gutterspeak, quoting her old mentor. Kareth stared at her blankly. "Have his things ready, Kareth. He'll be back. I'll go call him."

Kareth nodded uneasily. He hadn't much faith in mysticism, but it was hard to convince a walking corpse that certain things were unnatural. He sighed in relief as the door closed behind Krelle, leaving him alone with the three pets.

As an afterthought, he took out a battered old sign and hung it from the store's door.

Piss off, we're closed.

By Krelle

Forgotten in a corner, Nerrok's comm broadcast to no-one.

"Frak..." a small voice came out. "... Krelle?" a womans voice asked. "Taai! Oh, Taai, I'm so glad you're on." "What's wrong?" "It's Nerrok! He's run off in an orcish rage and I don't know why and he left his com here and the fight is tomorrow and he has to come back and I was gonna call him with magic but the only guy I know in orgrimmar is a warlock and that would only make him madder cause he's an orc and they go all bonkers over that stuff sometimes kind of like Miss Kennia and he ran off and I don't know where he is!" "Woah, woah girl! Calm down, it'll be allright." "But Taai, he has to come home!" "It's ok, Krelle. I think I know where he is." "... really?" "Yes." "And, you can go get him?" "... I think so." "But..." "I'll get him, Krelle," the voice said with finality. "You get ready for the hit tomorrow. Let me worry about Nerrok." "Yes, Taai. Thank you." "No sweat, kiddo. It's not your job to take care of him." "... okay." "Good." "Taai?" "Hm?" "Is it your job?" ".... We take care of each other. All the tong do. We're a family, Krelle." "Yes. I know." "Now don't you have something to be doing, miss?" "Yes, ma'am!"
 * click*

By Taai

Usually Taai left Nerrok alone when he requested, giving him his space and respecting the distance. Over the course of the months of being with him, he had showed her his favorite place.. stating it is where he came to do this thinking. The view had been spectaclar.

After her conversation with Krelle, she knew the Tong would need him for the battle against Rachet.. to help reclaim the town. --Said not to worry about him... yet Krelle said he ran off in an .. Orcish rage?? The rogue frowned, wondering what could have gotten him that riled up.

Gathering up gear, she went to the stables, patting down Swiftshadow's neck. "'tis off ta the Barren's boy. Gots ta find a partner." Whiskey poked his furry head out of her sack, chattering before disappearing back into the depths.

By Nerrok


 * A small note was left in Kareth's hands, the shopkeeper sighing in relief as he tacked it onto the inside of the doorway*

"I'm back. Sorry for the unexcused absence. Comm's on if you need me.

- Nerrok

By Sannia

Sannia missed the posted note, not realizing Nerrok had returned. She wrote up a report on her interview with Ben Arris. She moved to the back office and left the missive propped upon the Boss's desk. She had been meticiulous in bathing, her light perfume of peaches applied, and a new gown donned. Resolved from the Dark Lady's dream, the turmoil inside had quieted, left with only a clear pathway of what yet, had to be done.

Nerrok~

''Yesterday I met up with one, Benjamin Arris. During our meeting at the Crossroads, the Alliance attacked. In the commotion, we moved our interview up the road apace. I learned and confirmed, he is looking for his sister, A'fre.. ''

''I had him skin a lion, larger than himself. He took it down nicely, displaying good skills at fighting. He is amiable. He has my approval, and seeks now only your stamp of hiring.''

Sincerely yours,

Sannia

Taking a huge breath she looked around the office. Dark Lady how she loved the company! Quietly leaving, she made her way towards Booty Bay, needing blue pearls.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry= By Sannia

Urges so strong to see Booth hit her raw and left her trembling with a hollow pit in her stomach, clenching her heartbeat, crushing. She would wake up, literally in cold sweats, feeling feverish. Dry heaves had her choking as if she were alive still.....

... then the song would burst through the haze.. easing the tightness. Cooling, calming...soothing. She would slump back in her bedding, shivering. Rolling over and grabbing all the pillows she could, soft sobs became muffled. Sheer torture, of a broken heart. She prayed to the Dark Lady, listening for that song of support and strength. Fighting every step of the way.

=An Aged Leather Manifest Entry= By Sannia

Moonlight hit the flanks of her skeleton horse, creating a myriad of blue hues. Hooves beat out a furious tempo, as she raced off into the night, seeking to do Lady Sylvana's bidding. Ever since she had that dream, a cloud seemed to be lifting from her sight. Booth sent word to meet him, her conscience flared anew, thinking of Nerrok, Nargesh, Deggar, and even her new found friends of Jagezz, Krelle and Justyc. She knew what she was feeling, but what was she thinking? She betrayed the core of her life, for the love of a forsaken man. What hope or happiness could they ever find? Always staying in the shadows, on the run, fearing for their very lives? Alone?

The Dark Lady was wise, and she threw her faith into the Queen of Undead.

There. Up ahead, his familiar figure. Her heart clenched, stomach coiled and curled with all the secretive, sensual happiness they had found in each other's arms. A silent prayer went up...Dark Lady give me strength, to do the right thing.

Dismounting she went to him, unaware of the feline, silently padding shadow that followed her, or of the warlock's imp- Begnar's eyes that stared unwavering for his Mistress Alizsa.

Embracing, she began to speak, whispering the words that needed to be said. Booth was not happy, frustration in the situation, both their hearts breaking. Star-crossed lovers, she refused to see him dead, wanting him to run, flee, save both of them, for Time was on their side and the future yet unseen. Hours blended as they spoke in hushed arguing, pleading voices.. but in the end, all promises of plans vanished into the reality of the situation. She struggled with emotions, back and forth, but the strength did arrive, strangely enough...actually tingling up her spine, right to the ends of her eyelashes.

She kissed him, one final time, .. lips trembling, lingering... saying goodbye. Tears mixed with pain of a broken heart, that rode with her all the way home, throbbing slow beats, strong urges fought with her mind and heart, almost forcing her to turn around and go back....Then the tingling came again, easing the strain of her shoulders, the tightness of her chest.. soothing.. cooling. She was exhausted, feeling comfortably numb. Falling into her bed, her last thought...bizarre enough, was of an undead Elven Lady, singing softly...the sound haunting, powerful.. wrapping her into a cocoon of protectiveness.

=A Fate Worse than Death= By Nerrok

Nerrok sat on a tabletop in the back room of The Slow Blade, clad in his usual armor. Cross-legged with hands in his lap, his eyes were sealed tightly shut as incense burned in their holders, causing wisps of light grey, scented smoke to curl and swirl about him, mingling with the glowing green aura of the steel he was encased in. His eyes didn't open when Sannia opened the doorway and walked quietly, meekly inside...Having to stop outside the building and take many deep breaths as she bravely prepared to face her certain demise with the confessions she was there to tell.

"Nerrok, I-" She stammered. "I ha--...I have something to tell you."

"I know", was his quiet reply. His eyes remained closed.

Sannia nodded, slowly...Her own suspicions confirmed. She holds back the urge to sob. "I have forsaken him, Nerrok."

Silence was the Orc hunter's only answer to this, for a long while. What seemed like an eternity passed before his hands slowly rose, grasping at his helmet as he removed the spiked chain and set it to his side on the desk. Only then did his eyes open. They stared directly into Sannia's own, seemingly past them and into her very soul. She couldn't sustain the eye contact for long. He stood, casually...Making a quiet clicking sound with this tongue. The gesture brought Icestorm stalking into view, the hulking white lion seemingly materializing out of nothingness as he entered, paws falling within the very same path that Sannia's feet had travelled to get her this far.

"You've had eyes on you for quite some time now, Sannia." He paused...And then grinned. He wasn't looking at her anymore. He couldn't bring himself to for the fear of vomiting. The expression was nothing short of chilling. "You must think me quite the fool."

Sannia shook her head quickly, eyes lowered to the ground. "No, Nerrok, never."

Rage was absent from the orc's voice. His eyes weren't flaring with demonic potency as they had been the last time he and Sannia had met, before he took an unexplained leave of absence. Though despite the apparrent lack of anger, another, perhaps more terrifying emotion dripped from every word he spoke, every action he made. Cold, calcuated premeditation was the order of the day. An aura of silent lethality emanated from the hunter...Deadly and predatory. Nerrok was the snake that had coiled around it's latest victim in The Slow Blade that day, preparing to sink his fangs into vital, life-sustaining flesh.

"I think you're wrong. I all honesty, I think I'm a moron. You've had me suckered from day one, after all....", he continued, his words as icey as a Winterspring nightfall. "Tell me, Sannia...How did it begin?"

She hesitated...But began her side of the story. "I went to kill him, Nerrok...I truly did. But when I found him, he...I...I couldn't do it. He kissed me, and...I...", he paused, unable to formulate the words. The urge to run back into twisted arms suddenly hit her, twisting her stomach into knots…Before she heard the sound of The Dark Lady’s voice, singing to her. She immediately calmed down.

Nerrok nodded. "So you continued to see him. Fell in love with him."

Sannia nodded, slowly.

"You knew The Tong wanted him dead. You knew he had betrayed us. And yet you did this anyway. You knowingly threw away your entire life...For a kiss." Nerrok was looking at the ground, now, as he spoke. Sannia's mouth opened as she attempted to reply, but choked on a sudden, unpredicted sob. His words made the gravity of her mistake double upon her shoulders.

"Seems I'm not the only moron in this tent, then", the orc snorted. "So thoughtful of you to come and keep an impotent fool like myself company. Thank you kindly", Nerrok hissed, venom dripping from his words. "Well...Sannia...", he continues, casually reaching over to the desk and grabbing hold of his hunting rifle. He hefted it effortlessly with one arm, and placed the muzzle of the gun against Sannia's face, pulling the hammer back with an armored thumb...The barrel easily as big as her head. He turned it to the side so that he could see at least one of her eyes, looking into it as he spoke. "Give me one good reason....", he pauses at that, having roughly jammed the gun against her face with his last three words... "...Why I shouldn't blow your brains out all over the inside of this hut."

Tears streamed down Sannia's face as she sobbed...Though even with the massive gun pressed against her head, she was able to collect herself and face the music. She stood up a bit straighter as she struggled to reply. "Because it would be too easy. If you let me live, I have to do it with the knowledge of what I've done."

"Hah! Seems the moron is smarter than I thought. That's partially correct", Nerrok exclaimed. He jammed the rifle's muzzle cruelly against her face again, as if he were wishing it were a blade instead of a gun, before tossing it uselessly to the side. "I've got three reasons why I'm not gonna do it. Would you care to hear them?"

Sannia blinked rapidy, too stunned to actually reply.

"DO YOU WANT TO HEAR THEM?" the Orc bellowed, intolerant of her shock. "I might forget them if you don't answer quickly; after all, I am a moron", he spat. Sannia quickly nodded.

"Reason number one", Nerrok went on. "If I do, Kareth over there," Nerrok paused a moment and motioned toward the front of the store where the shopkeeper was going about his business, unaware of the situation in the back of the store. "...will have to clean it up. I'd hate for him to have to do that, if your incredible stupidity happened to be contagious."

Sannia gulped, a solitary tear streaking down her face to collect with those that she'd already shed.

"Reason number two. You're not worth the couple copper pieces that it costs to buy the bullet that would kill you. I'd rather use it on something more worthy."

At that, Sannia's face drained of its color. The hunter's words cut so deep it seemed they had severed her tear ducts.

"And last but certainly not least, I'm going to explain to you just exactly what you have done...Not only to me and my guild", he continued, purposefully not referring to The Tong as "her guild". "...But to yourself as well. You might wanna take a seat. This is gonna be a long story."

Sannia wordlessly obeyed the suggestion while Nerrok took his seat again, along the desk. His place on it elevated him a half body's length above her, and he glared down at her like the merciless judge that he had become.

"Let's start off simple, since we're both such complete and utter idiots", he spat. "Do you consider yourself a good person?"

Sannia blinked a the question...But slowly nodded. "Ye---Yes. I like to think that I am."

Nerrok Hmmmm'd. "Interesting. Alot of those in The Tong ask themselves that question every day. We do some illegal things here and there, for the sake of profit. But there is a code we live by. We avoid civilian casualties, we don't go raping and pillaging. We try to stay as clean as we can even though sometimes we all get perhaps a tad dirty. The vast majority of what we do comes from taking advantage of the fools that want to keep throwing fuel onto the fire that is this stupid Horde/Alliance conflict. Am I making any sense? Please let me know if you're unable to keep up...", he snarls. Sannia nodded sadly, her eyes lowered.

"So you say you're a good person. I see. Well. Let's look back in time, shall we? You were here when Booth was the Tiger Master? You worked under him? With me? Please let me know if you didn't. I'm a moron after all, you could have just been one of my imaginary friends", the hunter spat, tangible hatred flowing from his mouth like a river of acid.

Sannia nodded again, every word she heard chopping her down another inch. "Yes...Booth was...the first I met whenever I awoke."

Nerrok's lips curled into a sneer, at that. "How sweet. Well. He was your boss. He kept kinda tight-lipped about everything when he wasn't around, correct? Kinda secretive?"

Sannia nodded again. "Ye---Yes. He'd come up behind me sometimes, usually startle me, but...I didn't really question where he was or what he was doing when he wasn't around."

Nerrok grinned wickedly as he leaned forward, fangs glistening malevolently. "Well let me clarify some things for you, Sannia. I was Booth's Vanguard. His "Right hand", so to speak. I knew what he was doing, when he wasn't with us. Most of it, anyway. I’m sure there’s a lot of things that even I don’t know about him."

Sannia tilted her head to the side curiously, wondering what the orc was getting at.

"...And you say you are a "good person". Would a "good person" fall in love with a cold-blooded murderer? A man who took young, innocent, corruptable young girls, much like yourself", he empasizes this, pointing a large armored finger at her as he speaks; "...and shoved them neck-deep into sex-trafficing rackets? A man so vile, so evil, that he's wanted for crimes so heinous, so unthinkable, that every major city and most of the smaller ones across the entirety of Azeroth, want him killed on sight?”

Sannia's eyes went wide as saucers, and the breath left her lungs.

"...And you call yourself a "Good person". The lips of such a man have been pressed against yours. The tongue of such a man has slithered its way inside of your mouth. And whatever other activities you two filthy traitors participated in....His taint has stained you. You'll never be able to get that taste out of your mouth, no matter how hard you brush your teeth", Nerrok grinned. " I'd go into more detail but I don't really feel like vomiting right now. History repeats itself, Sannia. And if it were to be a gauge of how your "lover" was likely to think, you were just another easy lay before he drugged you and carted you off to whatever clan of Blackrock orcs or orgres or whoever the fel he barters with, to be used and abused just like all of his other victims. And you loved him! Hah!"

Sannia gagged, dainty arms wrapping around herself as she shivered uncontrollabley. It felt as if a thousand maggots were crawling underneath her skin, the feeling of disgust unable to be shaken from her.

"Let's continue", Nerrok spurred onward, mercilessly. "You told me a story a while back, about your sister. She stabbed you with a knife...Made you rise as you are now. Took your life from you, and your husband to be. Correct?"

Sannia nodded, overcoming her grief for a brief moment to hiss in anger. "Yes. She stole everything from me."

Nerrok grinned again, though this time it was a gesture of mock-amusement. "Well well well! We have ourselves quite the pickle here, now don't we!", he bellows. "She stabbed you, her sister, in the back...And now you, have stabbed your entire -family- in theirs! You're no different than she is. You have become that which you hate."

Sannia's eyes went wide again. She shook terribley with rage and despair, fingers curling into her palms...And yet she could not deny the words!

"I bet that tastes good, doesn't it...", Nerrok mused, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked down at her. "On top of the filth that your loverboy left on those pretty little lips of yours. You've baked yourself quite the cake here, darlin'."

Sannia glared at Nerrok, though the gesture was entirely void of threat.

"Glare at me again. I dare ya. I haven't even gotten to the best part yet." He would pause, then...running his tongue along his fangs as if in thought…Genuinely savoring her agony. He let her stew on that for a while, before he continued.

“I’m not gonna kill ya. I’m gonna keep you in The Tong. And I’m gonna protect you from the wrath of All the other Tigers and Tiger Masters. This entire situation stays between you and me, even if it means I end up getting the axe down the road because of it.

Sannia gasped in pure shock…Unable to do much else, at this point.

“And that will be your punishment. You will die every time they smile at you. You will die every time they help you with whatever you need. You will die with every gesture of love and kindness they give you. And yet you will live…to suffer the torment of your betrayal eternally.” Nerrok’s words were heavy, cold and final.

The last of the air Sannia had been struggling to keep in her lungs deflated, her shoulders slumping in utter, miserable defeat.

Nerrok looked down at her, solemnly. “You wish you were dead now, don’t you.”

Sannia nodded slowly, her voice distant, as if she were speaking from somewhere far, far away. “I already am.”

The orc nodded. “Then my job is done.” He went silent for a moment before he spoke again. “Stand up.”

With a tear-stained face and a sleeve that was soaked with them, Sannia came to her feet. Her face, her eyes, were deadened…Almost completely drained of the very will to live at the guilt of her decision and the sentence that Nerrok had levied upon her. The orc stood as well…and for the first time during this meeting, the icey features of his rugged face softened, the change barely noticeable. His eyes, too, seemed void of life and vigor. Indeed it seemed to take every ounce of strength he had in him to simply stand up and take a single, solitary step toward her.

He thought idley to himself as he silently attempted to think of what to do next. He thought of the dragons he’d slain, the demons he’d killed…The thousands upon thousands of hostile enemies that had died by his hand. He thought of how many times his physical and mental strength had been tested to the brink of death, a mere thread away from leaving this world for good. He thought of every trial and tribulation he’d ever been through; and none of them, without a shred of doubt in his mind, had been as hard or demanding on him as tearing into Sannia as he had just done. He could see it in her eyes, how he had destroyed her from the inside out. The trap had been sprung…the damage had been done. It was the toughest thing he’d ever had to do in all of his years of living: Slaughtering his kid sister’s spirit.

It was because of this that he wrapped his large, armored arms around her and hugged her in a tight, genuine embrace. Sannia’s eyes went wide and the dam immediately broke; she broke out into a flood of fresh tears and sobs, repeating “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry….” And begging for forgiveness over and over again. Nerrok let her get it out of her system…and while she desperately sniffled against his shoulder, he whispered quietly into her ear.

“Sannia…Everything I’ve said to you today is true…and I stand by it. You’ve got a very long, hard road to travel…a very deep, dark hole to climb out of. You will have a shadow following you from this day forward. Nature is my sight and hearing, Sannia…If you stray from the path that I have set you on, I will know.”

The undead rogue’s lithe body continued to shudder and shiver in the hug as she sobbed, nodding, listening. Nerrok continued.

“You say you’ve already died, today. Well…So did I. But I’m giving you a chance, Sannia…I’m letting you walk that road. I’m letting you climb out of that hole. I’m letting you bring me back to life…” Nerrok stopped, lowering his head slightly before releasing her from the hug. “Don’t let me down….Again…”, he concluded, his voice barely audible as his eyes drop to the floor.

Sannia nearly collapsed onto her knees after Nerrok’s arms left her. She shakily closed the distance once again, her voice breaking as emotion overtakes it. “I---I won’t, Ne---*sniffle*---Nerro—ook…Th-ank yo-u…”, she sobbed, placing a gentle kiss against his unmoving cheek before turning, and making her way out of the hut as best she could.

Nerrok stood there for quite a long time, after she’d left…Content with the silence as his eyes never left the hard red earth that made up the shop’s floor. A lone tear slid down his cheek…The solitary drop of liquid having refused to fall, until that instant. It made it’s way down to his chin, hanging there for a brief moment before disconnecting, and hitting the dirt at his feet…Mingling with Sannia’s own.