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| - Kopfjagger stood over the bodies of the fallen and shivered as the adrenaline rushed out of him as quickly as it had been summoned. Bending over the fallen, he began to feast upon their still warm bodies. He had to regain his strength after the battle. Slowly, the gaping wounds closed. The torn flesh knitted its way back onto his bone and when he stood again, his body was no worse for wear than before he had begun. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the horrified look on Lucias face. Something that he took for granted struck him finally. He had never been ashamed or embarrassed of having his enemies renew his strength but today, near her, was a completely different story. He turned away from her and those wide, teary eyes. Cursing himself for the monster that he was, he wiped the gore that surely covered his face on the tabard of one of the fallen. The symbols meant nothing to him, and once he was finished wiping clean the traces of his feast, they were no longer recognizable to anyone. There was no time to become emotional, or soft, he scolded himself. Quickly he set about cleaning the mess that curiosity had caused and that his blades had ended. It took a great deal of time to remove the traces of death. His eyes met Lucias not once during the ordeal. She sat still as stone, eyes never leaving his work. He lamented what she must think of him. And there was where his mind stayed during the long labor. She had accused him of being a horrible father. It was his fault that their son had a gimpy arm. His inattention and inability had cost their son full use of his limbs. He was a monster and a tyrant and a bastard. Tiny fists flailed against his chest as tears and anger flooded onto him. There was nothing he could say. She was right on all counts. There was no making up from this one. How could one make up when the wounds would never heal? With a jolt she felt the Zeppelin begin to turn and slow. They had reached the end of the ride. She glanced at Kopfjagger and held out her wrists to be tied again. Her eyes met his and his shame rolled over him again, fresh and mocking. She just sat there, waiting to continue to where ever they were going. The zeppelin began to slow and make its final turn. He had spent too much time on cleaning up his mess, and now there was no time left to explain his plan to Lucia. There was never enough time. The irony of that hit him suddenly. The Forsaken were nearly immortal, their flesh rebound to them after each time it is separated from its spirit. He had undergone that torture numerous times, you now he was out of time. He turned to face Lucia, to prepare her for what was about to happen when the Zeppelin lurched into its dock. The human mage had her wrists out and a single tear low on her cheek. Three thoughts ran through his mind so close together he wasn't sure which came first. 'What an amazing woman. Do not shed tears for a monster, and at the same time, 'This is no time for crying!' He quickly covered the distance separating them and knelt in front of her. He put on his leather gloves so that she would not have to feel his cold skin and then he gently wiped away her tear. He looked deep into her eyes and felt horrible for what he was about to do to her. He raised his hands in a praying motion, as if to apologize and then shrugged his shoulders. He said that he was sorry, but they had not covered that word yet in their impromptu lessons. There was no other way that he could think to do this. She tilted her head in a curious expression at his actions. Then, as quickly as he could, he pulled out one of his swords, spun it on his wrist and cracked it against her skull, knocking her unconscious. Gently and tenderly be gathered her and placed her across his shoulder. He rose to his feet feeling her slight frame lying across him. Her body was warm and soft. Her curves were.... There was no time. Never enough time. He walked up the stairs with his precious cargo over his shoulder. Visions of eating grass popped into his head as he crossed the deck of the zeppelin. No smile slid across his face this time however. When she turned him into a sheep, it did not hurt anything other than pride, which he probably had too much of anyway. His sapping her *must* have hurt and he was a monster for doing it. He hated that word, but sometimes the truth hurts. Slowly, as to not jostle Lucia, he made his way down the spiral stairs. Members of the Horde shouted and made rude gestures at his apparent prisoner, but he ignored them. Too many people had seen him carrying her. This would not end well. Once he was upon the ground he summoned his mount from its stable in Brill. Nearly instantly he was atop his steed. Dr.aping Lucia across its back, he rode slowly to the entrance to the sewers and the 'back door' into the Undercity. Once he made it to the entrance he released his mount and made his way to some shrubs near the *nearly* secret way into his capital. He laid her down softly onto the ground and placed his head on her lap until she awoke. She had every right to be furious, but no Alliance had ever been into the Undercity conscious. Well, some have tried, but the next time they would visit it would only be in spirit. He shook his head as he stood guard over her. What in fel would she think of him now? Not only did he kill people who assumed him an ally, but he consumed their bodies in front of her. Now, she would awake with her last memory being of him striking her. He shook his head again. What in fel was he? For so long hate was his heart. But in many ways, that was a simpler life. Hatred was pure and concise. Now he was in a morase of emotions that not only was he unfamiliar with, but they may very well cause him an eternity of creatively induced pain. His sigh was long and resounded in his hollow chest. Kopfjagger did not understand at first why Lucia did not wake sooner. Usually, when he would sap an enemy, they would only be dazed for many seconds but this was lasting entirely too long. Perhaps since she was not a warrior, she was somehow weaker physically. He had applied his usual force to the blow and he feared now that he may have caused her serious harm. For still, she lay there. Lucia's head hurt. Simple as that, and yet not simple at all. The left side of her face felt numb and her temple felt swollen. She opened her eyes slightly and grimaced in the dim light. A sickly, sour smell wafted over her. She squeezed her eyes shut again and regretted it almost instantly as a flare of pain seized her brain. She tried to remember what had happened. It came back in a flash. Kopfjagger! Scenes flashed through her mind. Him approaching her, strange gestures with his hands, drawing his blade and then pain. Blackness. She opened her eyes fully and took in her surroundings. A bleak view greeted her. Where was she? It was dark and cold and smelled truly horrid. It dawned on her then. He tricked me! He brought me here and I followed him blindly. What a fool I am! I trusted him! She moaned softly in despair. I left my babies and let him lead me to whatever horrible fate he had planned. Kopfjagger must have heard her stir because suddenly he was there. Panicked, believing him to be an enemy now, she scrambled up. Her vision blurring from the throbbing in her temple. Weakly she attempted to fight him back so she could run. She didn't know where she was, but she knew she had to get out. To get away from him, to foul any dark plans he had concocted for her. She moves. He rushed to her side, to see if there way anything that he could do for her. He barely had time to dodge a feeble swing at his head. She was weakly punching his chest and the side of her head was more swollen than he could have thought possible. Her tiny fists continued to rain soft blows upon his leather breastplate. He let her pound on him for a few moments and then he slowly put his arms around her middle and a gloved hand rested gently upon the back of her head, away from where he had struck her. Slowly, as her beating fists slowed, he pulled her into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while her blows slowly waned and eventually stopped. He held her there for a few seconds and a few seconds only. The smell of his flesh must be overwhelming and he did not want her to associate him with the smell of death. That was the main reason his hands were always gloved around her now. Better she see and smell dead cow then dead human. Slowly, he was seeing the monster when compared to her beauty. It pained him. Pulling her away from him, which was a most decidedly unpleasant experience, he placed a healing potion into her hand. He pulled the stopper off for her and seeing distrust in her eyes for the first time in a very long while, he took the first sip and then pointed to her swollen temple. They needed desperately to get inside to find the man that she seeks. If he was still there and alive, there was only once place he could be. Humans did not live long there. There was not time for long explanations. There was time only for action. While she still held the potion, Kopfjagger took one of his daggers from his belt and offered it to her while pulling the armor away from his chest. She had reason to repay him for his brutality... although it was not meant to be brutal. He made sure that his pale blue flesh was exposed clearly as he offered the dagger to Lucia. The punishment of seeing distrust in her eyes was far worse than a dagger in the chest. But perhaps this would allow her to trust him again. ((This part of the story was written in partnership by Kopfjagger and Lucia. I have the honor of retelling it but at least half, if not more, of the creative power comes directly from Lucia even though her name does not appear to the left of the post. *bows deeply to Lucia* Thank you, Lucia, for letting me retell our story, I hope to do it justice.))
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