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| - Slather was simply amazed at Kopfjagger's devotion to the Human. He had met his fair share of Forsaken, and each of them were bitter, hateful people eager to end all life, especially Human. But Kopfjagger deeply cared for Lucia. Deep down the Troll hoped that he would learn the full story eventually. He reminisced of his own mate, undoubtedly missing him in their little flat in Orgrimmar. They had met back when Slather had defended her from a marauding human in Ratchet. She was eternally thankful to him, and soon a deep relationship developed. They hunted wild prowlers, back in the day, and spent hours at night just talking by the Forgotten Pools. She was doubtlessly anxious to see him again, and he looking forward to seeing her and their little boy. The Shaman rummaged in his packs to locate a pen and parchment. Next he pulled his ancient Hearthstone from his pack. While not the most efficient mode of travel, they were still widely used. But Slather had advanced in his training far enough that he didn't really need it anymore. He figured that Kopfjagger did, as his was probably bound to a post that would kill him on sight. He took an old linen scrap, wrapped it about the stone. He wrote on the parchment in Orcish, the only language the two shared. Kopfjagger. This stone is bound to Orgrimmar. You may go ahead and use it. I have my own mission to finish, and my own family to see. If you wish, I own a flat in the Valley of Honor, not far from the arena where you can visit me and rest your weary bones. Don't worry about me. I can handle my own transportation. I hope you found whatever you were looking for in that Human. Be well and I hope to see you soon. - Slather, Shaman and Servant of the Horde Slather carefully folded the parchment over, and placed the wrapped stone on top of it as a paperweight. He looked about to make sure he wouldnt be seen, and grasped his Earth totem. He didn't need it, but it comforted him as he began to Recall to the Inn in Orgrimmar. He was nearly finished when he heard a Human in polished plate mail shout at him in a language he didn't understand. Slather didn't dare rush himself, for if he made a mistake there was no telling where he would end up. An arrow embed itself in his side interrupted the long Recalling spell. The plated man holstered his crossbow and unsheathed his sword and shield. Drawing his own weapon and shield, the Shaman prepared to defend himself. Taking a brief moment to size up his opponent, Slather realized this would be a very difficult fight. The human wore brilliant Plate mail, with the head of a Lion embossed upon the breastplate. The Shaman bolstered his weapon with the spirit of Fire, and swung at the Human who easily blocked the blow with his shield. The added power of Flame partially melted the metal. With what remained of his shield, the human bashed Slather down the ground, and prepared to impale him. Looking up at the gleaming sword, the Troll quickly rolled to the side, avoiding the quickly falling point, and followed with a blow to the Human's kneecaps. The human took the blow like an expert, not allowing Slather to bend it backwards and break it. A plated boot found Slather's side, causing the Troll to curl up protectively. Slather sprang to his feet as best he could and blasted the Human with a shock of Frost. Somehow, the Human resisted it, and brought the sword's hilt down impossibly hard on Slather's unprotected head, rendering him unconscious. At first the stealthed Forsaken could not see very much through the opened window, but he could hear a great, joyous commotion. It soon settled and he could make out the two wonderful children, a Night Elf and Lucia. She sat with her back only inches from him and began to tell a story. He stood there at that window, hunched over with the light bending protectively around him. The flowers rose up past his knees as he listened intently. The way that she recounted the story was easy for him to follow. She used words that her children would understand, which meant that he could follow most of it as well. It was difficult to not chuckle and laugh at certain parts; especially when she turned him into a sheep. Lucia left out most of the horrendous parts of their journey, which was to be expected considering her audience. Her voice was simply overpowering to this Forsaken that was trained from re-birth as an assassin; to this sad little creature hunched over a flower bed and hidden from view. He was not ready to leave yet, but he knew that it must be soon. What he witnessed in that home that morning made him realize that it had all been worth it. The entire journey was something that he would do all over again if it meant that it could end this way. Lucia was happy, her children were smiling and hugging their mother (while smacking and sticking their tongues out at each other). Family is something that he yearned for more than he realized. But the time had come to leave this place, for now. He knew that he would return, however. More than likely it would be sooner than later, he confessed to himself. He wanted to make sure that the children wanted for nothing and that his precious Lucia lived as comfortable a life as possible for the rest of her days. He wasn't sure how yet, but he would help this family any way that he could. Before she could get to the part in her story where she had to say goodbye to him, he departed from the window. He whispered onto the breeze through the window the Forsaken word for love. It seemed appropriate. He was confident that Lucia would be the only one that would hear it and most certainly the only one that would understand it. He made his way back to where he had left the Troll, still under full stealth. He wove between the humans that were crowding the streets, making sure to leave their pockets alone as he went. Today and this town combined to make him almost generous. Slowly he made his way past the bored guards to where he had left Slather. Looking around, it appeared that the Shaman had already left the area. Spotting a round, flat stone, Kopfjagger went over and picked it up as well as the parchment it sat upon. Reading the note he smiled to himself. This Troll was truly a friend. He decided not to delay and began to hearthstone to a new home. The last thing he saw before light flashed and he felt himself being pulled into the nether for the journey was a small pool of blood and a broken totem. "What have I done," he exclaimed to himself from the Inn at Orgrimmar. "I have left the Troll!" That drew funny expressions from those crowded into this tiny Inn. He had been here many times before, but the city was so large that none of the faces were familiar to him. He had to go back. The Forsaken had given his pledge of unending loyalty. But first, he needed to check the small flat that Slather spoke of. Perhaps he made it out okay. Slather awoke on a stone floor, his wrists chained to the wall, stripped of all his equipment. His headache was tremendous. He couldn't use the Recall spell like this, lest he drag an entire prison through the Ether and into the heart of Orgrimmar. Regardless, he needed to reclaim his Totems. Such things may appear to be mere tools to other people, but they were a symbol of nature and a piece of one's soul to Shaman. To take them was an insult below insults. Slather strained against the chains with all his strength, but no avail. Defeated for the moment, he let himself drift back into unconsciousness. His last thought was a waning hope that he may be able to think more clearly upon awaking. ((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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