Letter to Kurohane

[Chum]

Chum spurs the Elf translator in the back with his greaves sprawling the poor man out in front of the mailbox.

"I am aware you speak my language and that is why you are here." Chum says with an angry look on his face. "So this is what I want you to do." He says as he pulls out parchment and a pen.

To: Kurohane

I am sorry that our alliance has been broken by our segregation of races and my duty as one of The Forsaken. I detest the notion of facing you on any form of a battlefield but if that is what comes in the future than that is what shall happen. I bear no regret towards my actions but I also bear none towards yours. If you wish to visit the old Razputin I encourage you to, I have buried him within the Raven Hill Cemetery where he shall rest in peace.

Signed in Gutterspeak: Chum the Calamity

Chum slides the letter into the mailbox and looks back at the elf that was now being bound by his Troll friend Reanimator.

Chum looking around in deep thought. "We will take him to Red Ridge."

A few hours later an elf walked to the front of Lakeshire accompanied by 4 figures. One of them unbound him and let him run towards the Alliance town. The 4 figures retreated through a portal afterwards.

[Kurohane]

A small sigh escaped her lips as she refolded the letter and slipped into her pouch alongside so many others.

She had known this was coming. Even when she had fought side by side with the former paladin against the abomination, even when she had walked peacefully with him through Duskwood. She had prayed for one member of the horde that would hold true to a wish for peace.

She had known it would not ever truely happen, but she had hoped none the less. The letter Chum had sent to Haldren... Her blood began to boil once more at the thought. The letter the undead warrior had sent to one of her most beloved friends and allies. The letter he had penned, threatening the dwarf she had grown so fond of...

She pulled out the letter again, glaring down at it. So, this is how it would be. This is how it would always be, she realized.

There would be no peace. There would be nothing but war, betrayal, bloodshed.

She would not hope or trust fruitlessly any longer.

Slinging her bow onto her back, she tossed the letter into the fireplace and exited the inn. Her great black-stripped cat awaited her outside. Mounting, she cast her glare over the dank city one more time before turning and riding down the path to where her fellows awaited her for patrols.