"Shouldn't someone get her to…stop?"

Skybow shifted uncomfortably as Liiila lifted her staff and slammed it down on Bloodsworn's corpse. Again.

And again.

And, well…

She'd been beating the damned thing for the last five minutes, swearing in almost a dozen different languages, and occasionally breaking out into maniacal laughter that had him worried the little elf might search for something else to take her fury out on.

At the tauren's unease, Haa'aji glanced over his shoulder, shrugged, and scratched the back of his neck as he watched her slam her staff down again. "Nah, mon. Dis be catha'tic fa her, yeh? He been a dick fa a long, long time."

"Kinda wish she'd give me a few thwacks," Shadow offered offhandedly, leaning against the wall as he watching their shadow priest with an unnerving approval.

Skybow had noticed more than a few of the members of the guild seemed to live in a morally gray area, and he had been concerned when he'd seen how easily they'd joked about sacrifices and the like on the way in, as they stormed the lab.

Cloudless, however, had been one of the few occasional voices of reason, whenever the jokes threatened to go too far.

It had made him proud, and it had hurt at the same time.

He'd always been jealous of this life that Cloudless lived, but he'd never really expected it to be…so much more than he'd been told. He'd thought they traveled, did a few quests, saved a few lives…

But for them to be Anonymous and for everything to be so dangerous…

He wasn't sure what to think anymore.

"Me, too."

The words took Skybow by surprise, and he had to glance around to find the speaker after he'd shaken off his earlier thoughts.

Standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Tizzle, a small gnome with a few half-healed scars along her face and shoulders stood there, gaze focused on Liila, the orange iris in her good eye following the elf's movements as she beat the corpse to the point that it would have to be an ooze if it was ever brought back again.

Cloudless cast another heal on the gnome, in time with Tizzle, and the worst of the scars faded, a few lesser ones disappearing completely.

They'd been doing that for Bloodsworn's other…test subjects or experiments or…whatever they were…since they'd managed to free them.

During the fighting, Roberts and Blood had stayed out of it, freeing every one of them, both from their shackles and from the runes that controlled them. They'd made sure that none of Bloodsworn's calls for aide were answered, without making the ones he'd hurt so badly suffer for their misfortune.

Most of them had begged to go home, not caring about the scars left on them, so long as they could get out of that hellish place. Even with their short time with the guild, however, the healers had done quick work to patch them up before they disappeared through mage portals.

Only the little gnome had stayed, a mage who had sent the Alliance injured home. Skybow felt guilty about that elven druid getting sent to some goblin town, considering if they'd kept him around for another twenty minutes, he could have been sent to Darnasus.

However, he supposed those twenty minutes would have dragged on for an eternity for that elf, had they attempted to keep him.

"I don't want to rush anyone," the gnome spoke softly, good eye still moving in time with the swings of Liila's staff, "but it's not exactly safe to stay here." She paused, shifting her weight a little and peered up at the Horde members around her. "The whole lot of you…you're a good sort, you know? If you're here to do more than take out a mad scientist or two…"

"We are," Howl murmured, voice soft and common a little uneven as he spoke.

"Well, the best way outta here is a portal," the gnome continued, motioning around them. "But I'm guessing you all would end up back in Kalimdor or somewhere pretty far off?"

At that, Howl nudged Sprocket, who was the only one of their mages who hadn't taken to pilfering all of Bloodsworn's supplies. "Is she right?"

When Sprocket was caught up and nodded a little glumly, the gnome hopped in place, despite the worn look on her face. "Well, how would you like a portal to Dalaran?"


Sethyl walked slowly over to where Liila sat, absentmindedly twisting a few buds off a plant he had no name for. When he saw her ear twitch and knew she'd heard him coming, he picked up his pace and moved to sit beside her.

He wasn't sure what could have been done differently, but he felt that they shouldn't have let her just…keep attacking her tormentor's corpse like that. On the one hand, it had let out a lot of pent up rage that she'd obviously been dealing with, but…

"If you're looking for health potions, then it's going to be a while."

Her voice was soft, but there was a little bit of fluctuation in it.

Settling into the chair next to her, he peered at her, not bothering to hide his worry. "I wanted to make sure you're doing alright."

In the end, when almost everyone had gone through the portal, Haa'aji had just shouldered her when she refused to stop her attack—there had been another elf there who had tried to talk to her, but she'd ignored him, too focused on her task—and sprinted through the portal.

"I'm not."

She snapped a bud in half as she jerked it off its stem too harshly and then hesitated before setting it down on the table she was at. They'd come to one of the inns in Dalaran, one that was in neutral territory so that Liila wouldn't be off on her own while the rest of the guild caught up with the Horde members who were already present.

They were on a balcony overlooking the street below and Sethyl couldn't help but be taken aback by how…picturesque it looked. The cobblestones were neat and well-tended, the store windows were bright, the shop doors open and inviting. There were even well trimmed, grassy areas off to one side in what looked like a small park of sorts.

And then there was all that magic, that whispered essence that elves were so in-tune with.

It was like the Scourge had never marched across the land, like Silvermoon hadn't crumbled.

It was easy to forget, if only for a moment or two, that all the terrible things that had passed were real.

"I will be, though."

Even as Sethyl blinked out of his thoughts, surprised, she gave him a small smile. "I don't…know that I'll ever fully believe that he's really gone, but…I think I can accept that he can't reach me anymore."

Sethyl's brow pinched together as he watched her go back to her work, trying to understand how she could have beaten a body to such a bloody pulp and still not believe that it was dead. However, before he could find the words to ask, or even decide if he should, there was a sharp knock at the door and they both looked up to see Shadow step inside.

"Liila, if you have a minute, there's something I'd like to show you."

The tauren nodded to Sethyl, and he gave Liila a quick smile and assurance he would watch over her stuff as she rose and slipped out after Shadow.


"See, it'll stay right here."

Shadow ignored the small cluster of death knights and other undead who had crowded around hall in the necropolis to inspect the living priestess who'd been allowed to set foot in their home.

Bloodsworn's runeblade hung on the wall there, where Shadow had once been on display, heavy chains holding it's cracked form to the wall.

There was something so damned satisfying about that. Shadow almost wished that Bloodsworn himself could have been hung up there, on meathooks as he had been, but this was just as good. After all, the bastard was gone, and the only reminders of him were those that showed how he had been crushed, so completely.

"What if someone takes it?" Liila's voice was soft, even. He and every other undead could smell the fear in her, though.

Even as he pretended not to notice, Blood shrugged. "A death knight's blades whisper to them, so they wouldn't take kindly to having a new voice in their master's head."

Leafless tugged on one of the chains to make sure it would stay in place and then turned back to Liila, where she stood between Blood and Shadow, like some tiny, fragile creature. "And if anyone who isn't a death knight tries to take it, the blade will get in their head and destroy them."

It had been somewhat of a group effort to get that damned blade to the Ebonhold, and they'd pretended not to notice the arched eyebrows and curious murmurs from their fellow death knights as they brought the weapon back.

No doubt the highlord had heard about their guest by now.

Worst case, one of them would conjure a death gate back to Dalaran's sewers and shove Liila through before any harsh words could be had.

Or before she could troll the highlord.

Blood didn't think she would, as she was rather unnerved by death knights she wasn't familiar with, but Shadow knew her better than that. She was a terror in her own right, and he didn't want her starting something with someone quite so powerful.

That would bring Haa'aji to the necropolis.

And if there was one thing they didn't need here, in their flying fortress, it was him.

"We'll smuggle you in to see it again, if you need to," Blood offered, voice low enough that the onlookers around them couldn't hear. "Anytime you need a reminder that he's gone."


As Timmons rounded the corner, he nearly walked into a human woman who was so busy arguing with the Dalaran guard that rather than regard him with the usual repressed disdain, she shrieked when she caught his visage in the corner of her eye.

He made a point of giving her a look that said he thought she was an idiot before smiling thinly to the guard and making a point of walking around them and back to his predetermined path.

However, even as he idly considered how well the mages here might pick up on curses and how quickly they might figure out who had cast them, he happened to hear part of the conversation, and found himself slowing down despite himself.

"Ms. Smithson, I'm sorry, but—"

"Don't you Ms. Smithson me!" The young lady snapped. Timmons sauntered over to a nearby stairway that led into a shop and did his best to loiter casually. The human woman was waving a note in front of her, gesticulating wildly. "Someone sent my mother a damned note saying that my brother died a hero and that my father is one! Like he's not dead, like we know he is! I don't know how she figured out the letter came from Dalaran, but… She's missing. And I'd bet anything she's come this way looking for the source of this stupid letter or worse, for Dad!"

Her voice broke on the last word. Even as Timmons fought the urge to shuffle a little closer to hear, the guard noticed him and gave him a withering look as he tried to comfort the young woman.

Pulling off another bored expression with complete and utter ease, Timmons turned and began away from the arguing duo, hearing the woman whimper as he drew out of reach, "It broke her so completely when we lost him…it's cruel to give her hope now…"

Something about the girl was…familiar. He couldn't really place what, but…

He was fairly certain he'd never met her before. Her clothes suggested she was a mage, and an Alliance one, not one from Dalaran.

He'd set everyone in Stromgarde alight, hadn't left survivors in his wake in years…and, well…

Even as he turned another corner and saw a few of his guildmates heading into the inn, he stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. He'd been ready to ask if any of them knew the mage, thinking how he'd describe her to them, when his mind had gone back to her name.

Smithson.

A hand abruptly jerked his hood lower onto his face, and he flailed his arms as he fought off his attacker and righted his hood. When the fabric was back to casting just the right amount of shadow over his face, he turned an annoyed and glowing gaze toward Haa'aji. A curse died just short of his lips when he noticed a patrolling mage pause to eye him.

"Genji say de sheep be actin' weird, yeh?"

Timmons stood a little straighter and made sure his frown was as pronounced as could be without falling into a full sneer. "What are you on about?"

"Mitchell's Fluffeh. It been doin' weird stuff." The troll nodded his chin toward Timmons. "So?"

"So?"

"Ya got nehttin' weird wit' ya?"

Timmons motioned toward the inn with a boney hand. "If there is a problem, I'll let Mitchell know."

As he spoke, though, he couldn't help but run back through the events that had happened since he'd been blown up in Orgrimmar. Had anything strange happened?

"Well, ah been wonda'in', since ya jus' stoppin' in de middle o' de street 'n all."

"That…" Timmons started to dismiss the troll's concern—assuming it could actually be concern—and shook his head. "I…I think Gregor's daughter and wife are here."