Right in Two

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The rain in Stranglethorn was overwhelming. It was more than the Trolls had seen in a long while. It was almost as if they sky was crying due to some great loss, but it would not stop. For three days and three nights it now rained nonstop. Many of the inhabitants of Grom Gol base camp were forced to sleep in the hammocks to avoid drowning in their sleep, or stay in either of the guard towers.

On the third night, currently the latest night of the rain, the downpour seemed to only get worse. The relentless jungle rain drowned some of the creatures that were not suited for swimming, and corpses lay cold and rotting in the water. The rivers began to overflow with their mass as nearly the entire land became flooded. It seemed everywhere you stepped, a frenzy cought sight of you ande began attacking at will. They were taking their chance at the opporunity of the fresh corpses and new waterways.

The guards at Grom Gol, standing like dark bastions against the torrent of rain, stood at the gates willingly. They doubted any trouble tonight, or anytime soon with this downpour. As night came close yet again for the fourth day of rain, both guards lit their lanters and hung them about a spear. It would be difficult for anyone to find their way through the jungle and rain without it.

it was not soon after the rain only had become worse and the lanters were lit that the guards spotted something in the distance. The thing was not far off, but the mask of rain and darkness covered the creatures approach. The guards could hear the footsteps of this unknown thing as it moved it's feet through the water. The guards gave each other an odd look before reaching for their weapons. The silouette of the being ahead grew visible, but it's features still masked.

"Creature, either you be friend or foe, speak now!" The guard on the left bellowed. He had seen many things in his past, and did not take kindly to such a late entrance.

The outline of the thing drew closer, not stopping to heed the warning of the grunt. It's features became clear as it walked into lanternlight.

A tall, grim looking man stood before the two grunts. His face was old and rotten, his skin turneed a sickly pale now possibly due to the overwhelming amount of rain. His form was covered in encompasing robes, though they were more torn, black rags than robes. He held something close to his chest as a man would hold a chestwound. He was holding something... a bloody cloth. Something inside the cloth moved, but the guards paid it no attention.

"Why so late, Undead? You had us fooled. Had you been approaching a little faster we might ha-"

The grunts speech was cut short. "Easy, my dear friends. I am no trouble to you, and will not be so... please.. calm yourselves." The ragged Undead gave a smile as his watched the two grunts seem to ease their glares. They let their weapons lower themselves. The two grunts shrugged and let him pass, not caring about the bloody cloth. It seemed his mind soothe spell worked as planned.

Inside the cover of the Zepplin tower the Undead gently brushed the bloody cloth with his clawed fingers. It moved again...

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The cold liquid continued it's attack upon the jungle. The water grew higher and higher, grasping the poor camp. The enemy tonight was not the Alliance or the creatures of Stanglethorn, but the very nature of the land.

The priest continued to peer into the bloody cloth, thinking about whatever he had concealed undearneath the crimson and white shroud. He raked his clawed fingers accross the top again, the thing inside responding with a small movement.

"Easy little one. I wouldn't want all that work to go wasted if one of these brutes happen to spot you."

The priest looked up from the cloth, making sure none were in view. The tower had grown quite full with those trying to escape the water from outside. The hammocks were full, some fostering so much as three bodies. The small circular room was crowded with Orcs and Trolls, with a few Tauren and what seemed like to Undead. All of the inhabitants huddled closer for warmth, as the water and wind was quite cold.

Lightning struck in the air, and the downpour went on...

(- This is now open to anyone who would find an interest in joining me. -)

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The memory of what had happened only hours ago flashed through his mind. He was trying to focus on what kind of trouble he would be in now.


The sun was just reaching the top of the sky in Elwyyn. The day had been long and prosperousas usual, the harvest going fine. There had been a famine before from some unknown force, and it seemed it was finally over. The wheat from Westfall had began to grow again, as well as many crops inside Elwyyn itself.

One family in particular had a small farmhouse just near the border of Westfall. Their home sat about twenty feet from the river, and their field was just to the left of the house. This family grew several things such as squash, pumpkins, and okra but their true treasure was their family. There were the two parents, mother and father, and three children. The children were two boys who happened to be twins, and a small girl. The mother had another child quickly underway. The only other family members were the house dog and the farmhand.

As the sun reached it's peak at the top of the sky, the father of the househld noted that it was noon- Lunch time. He dropped his shovel and motioned for his farmhand to come with him.

"C'mon son. Time to eat.... ya' earnd it after all."

The farmhand nodded, but did not cease his work.

"In a moment Mr. Steets, I just got me a few holes left to dig."

The father nodded saying " Allrigh', just remember to make 'em deeper than last time. Ya' remember what happened, right?"


The farmer was delighted to finally sit down to lunch. It was all those of the simple lifestyle had to look forward to. He took in what was available to him at the table. It was actually quite a pitiful meal, even by his standards. He understood as to why though. His wife was pregnant, and he did not expect a good meal while she was this far. They wanted another little girl instead of a boy. Their two sons were allready destructive enough.

As he called in his children from outside, his wife joined him. The sound of the farmhand piercing the earth with his shovel was the only sound in the background other than the small birds chriping in their nests. Two small boys came running to the table.

"Hey hey hey hey..." his voice dropped as he stopped the boys to talk to them.

"Wheres yer sister?" he asked. The two twins looked at each other and then back to their father. "She was out feedin the chickens dad." they said. "Well, tell her to come on." the mother said. "We can't have this food gettin' cold, can we?"

She watched as the two boys went running outside to fetch their sister. The father turned to mother.

"So, it should be soon, right."

"Yes.." she looked down at her meal for a moment. "... I was thinkin' of calling a priest down here from the church. It... it feels like it's going to be soon."

The father nodded. "Then we best do it."

The conversation was quickly interrupted by the hurried footsteps of their children. The two boys had returned, something following them slowly. The small girl stood in the doorway. Her expression was blank, and she stood staring at her family.

"You comin' sweety?" the father asked, a small hint of concern in his voice. She looked up at her father and pointed out the door. She said the words as best she could for such a young girl.


The father just now noticed that the gentle sounds of birds chirping had stopped, as well as the sound of the farmhand, Gary, digging. The father eyed past his daughter to see the lone shoval sitting on the ground, it's master nowhere in sight. The father raised an eyebrow as he stood.

"Liv, stay here with the children," he grabbed a nearby scyth that stood leaned against the doorway. It was not like Gary to stray from work or food, but he didn't expect and real problem. The main thing that worried him was the fact that there were footprints in the soft soil other than his and the farmhands. The farmer approached the doorway, motioning for his daughter to go with her mother.

The farmer quickly oberved his surroundings. Everything seemed to be allright except the eerie silence of nothing more than the wind. The birds had stopped their song, and the brook seemed to halt. The barn door sat open slightly.

Mabey he just went to put up his shovel

But he knew the thought was a lie. The shoval still sat where Gary was before, the farmer just did not want to think on anything bad.

He pulled the barn door open. The inside of the barn must had been extremely cold, because the farmer felt a gentle cold breeze come out of the barn. It chilled his hand to the bone, and the farmer brought his hand back. He eyed his hand for a moment before glaring at the doorway and throwing it open. He grabbed his scyth, ignoring the cold, and marched into the dark. The light shone through the open doorway landed on the back of the bark. Nothing was visible, and the only thing he could feel was cold. He looked around for a lantern, or a torch, but found none. The farmer grew frustrated.

"Gary? Comeout boy."

There was no response.

"..Well at least mabey I can find out what is causing is damn COLD!"

He threw the second door open. As soon as the light flooded into the room, he had wished it had not. He found the farmhand.

The young man was twisted upside down, his skin was blackened. The only thing holding him up was the wooden post that went into his mouth, pierced through his back twice, and the rest remained coming out of his abdomen. He looked like a gigantic worm scewered over a hook. His eyes were white and held no sighns of thier pupils.

The farmer sat there for a moment, stunned. As he heard his front door close, it broke him of his trance. Inside he was crying, but he had no time now. Worry and despair had consumed him, and he just heard someone enter into his house. He left the corpse with his weapon and began sprinting to his house.

He was screaming. Screaming the name of his wife over and over.


Only twenty more feet to go....


He closed the distance on his house as fast as he could. He was at the front porch now. Right as he took the first steps up his tairs, he spotted the blood. Pools of the crimson liquid were spattered on his front door, and a pool of it sat nice and fresh before his feet. He rushed through the door. His movements were so fast he payed to mind to his two boys that had been driven to the wall by metal spikes through their chests.

The sound of a child crying filled his ears as he turned the corner to his bedroom...

A tall guant figure stood over his wife. It's black robes were nothing more than simpe rags thrown over a corpse. It turned it's head to the entering man, the creatures black veil over it's face but still showing the slightest impression of an old, withered man. His robes covered the abdomen of the woman the farmer called Liv. She sat there, motionless. The father supposed it was either shock, death, or the combination of the two.

The veiled figure turned the rest of it's body. It held a bloody cloth close to it's chest, inside, the farmers child- Alive and well, a healthy little boy.

Completely unable to move from shock, the man watched on as the tall figure pulled in it's robes off of the woman. Her abdomen looked like it had been turned inside out. Her insides had been completely ripped out, her organs sat loosely inside her. The creature had given her some sort of cesarean section.

"She... refused to give it to me. So I made her."

The priest exited through the doorway, leaving the man alone with his woe.


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The last use of her Dimensional Ripper shorted out the magic of the hearthstone which she carried, effectively stranding her in Winterspring. Goblin technology was powerful...and fairly unreliable. It was this reason that the rogue Darkblade found herself on board a zeppelin toward Grom'gol, as it was the most efficient way to return to Outland.

As she descended the ramp of the zeppelin tower, she saw the undead priest there, cradling something beneath a bloody cloth. She cocked her head to the side and asked, "Dinner?"

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The priest hoped the Undead looming over him had not realized what delicate package he carried. The small child reached it's arms up and grabbed to the priests finger.

"Er... dinner? No. It's nothing, just..."

He thought to what excuse he could make, but he could think of none. He couldn't let an Undead blow his cover. She likely allready knew that it was a child, so telling a lie to her would only make it more obvious that he was not supposed to have the child.

"...Just some..." he lowered his voice. "A child I'm taking back to the Undercity for..."

His mind searched for an answer.

"...Research. In the Apothecarium."

He tried his best at hiding his frustration and waited, watching closely for her response.

(- Off to work for me, so it may be a few hours before this continues. -)

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"Research, eh?" she spoke, noticing the small hand reach up from beneath the covers. She continued in the guttural language that only undead throats could effectively duplicate, "What would the apothecaries want from one so young?" The question was mostly rhetorical, as she never could understand the strange requests the apothecaries sometimes had, but she was never one to argue their points.

Was that nervousness the priest conveyed? Perhaps this human offspring would have a human force in tow?

She continued on in the gutter speech, "Do you wish assistance? If there are any wanting this specimen returned, a single priest, no matter how powerful, could potentially use some swords to make a delivery more certain." With this, she patted the pommels of her two sheathed blades. "And after all, you are an ally."

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Help... mabey I could use that...

He realized that she believed him. From the look of her, she was a well-trained rogue, though not a complete master of the art. perhaps she could help him, whether or not she knew the circumstances or not. The only fear the priest had was of her finding out, and her being a loyal member of either the Deathstalkers or Infection. Both would find a "better use" for the child if they knew it's purpose.

He rose his head to speak until a loud crashing noise came from above. All of the guests within the tower covered their heads and ears at the sound.

The priest watched the girl for a moment before finnally walking up the spiral staircase to see the commotion. To his dismay, his fast way home was shot.

Lightning had somehow strucken the Zepplin that had just carried the few passengers into Stranglethorn. The ruins of it lay on the outaide of the gate, the top still ablaze. The small goblin near him cursed loudly in it's high pitched voice then, grabbing it's walkie-talky device, said, "Hold up that last one! We can't have any more zepplins on the route to Stranglethorn, number three just got hit by lightning and she is DOWN!" The goblin adjusted a nob on his small device. "Repeat, do not send Zepplins to Stranglethorn, number three is down, over."

The priest gritted his teeth in frustration. He could not keep the child here. He knew he had disrupted the beehive with his actions and that the Alliance were most likely headed this way... he needed to move, and move fast.

The priest lowered his head, eyeing the girl that had approached him before.

"Both Zepplins are gone, and there is no way back while this weather is upon us. I can't stay here and will need to risk all that I can to resturn to the Undercity at once. If I can somehow make it to Stonard I should be fine to take a windrider." He held the child a little closer. "Your help would be much appreciated, but not required if you wish it. Will you come?"

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Immediately upon hearing the loud disturbance from above, the rogue sprinted to the top of the ramp, only to see the remains of the zeppelin she had only recently disembarked from laying in a smoldering heap outside the gates of Grom'gol.

She turned her head toward the priest as he came upon the scene.

"Will you come?"

Darkblade nodded, and stood at attention. "My blades are yours. I'll see you to Stonard, or perish trying."

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The farmhouse was a complete mess. Blood was everywhere. The general had seen alot in his time in Stormwind, but this was the most gruesome he had seen in a few years.

"It looks like the poor bastard in the barn was Gary Dwindledon. Wonder how the attacker got him up on the post like that," the assistant said.

General Tellin eyed his assitant with his one good eye, examining the recruits reaction.

"Yer shakin' kid. Either get your wits about you or go back home and put yer mothers tit back in yer mouth."

The general didn't like new recruits, they were allways edgy, and unexperianced, foolish and brash. They allways grew nervous around their business regardless. Their business what this so far- Track the killed and vidicate the fallen.

"It's a real mess sir," the assistant returned. "The boys were nailed to the wall, the little girl was found stuck to the roof... didn't even realize it until Gits said he smelled something."

The general walked into the kitchen and looked up at the victim, the small girl pinned to the roof by a large stone spike through her chest, the crimson lifeblood still dripping on the meal the family had not had a chance to finish. He turned his head to view the two boys nailed to the wall.

"Well well well... seems we are dealing with another freak o' nature here. Some slimy little bastard..." the general said as he inspected the ground. "Three children, a farmhand, the mother, and the baby is missing. Hm..."

Tellin rubbed his chin in thought. "We seem to be dealin' with some sick fucker here. Now, it was'n no Defias idiot. They got no reason to do this kinda' shit to poor folk." Tellin eyed the ground outside. The grass had died and withered in certain areas, making a streak from the south to the barn, then to the house, then back south.

"Well. Seems E' ain't very stealthy, eh?" Tellin smiled at the younge recruit, who returned the chuckle with a blank stare. "Lighten up son..."

Only minutes later did it take to rally a force. The small militia lead by the retired general sat in Goldshire, growing and gathering the few in the area who would be up to it. The large group of enraged soildiers and mercenaries were only pushed onward by the words and screams of the angry townsfolk. They all screamed and cried about the slaughter of the famil, and it only pushed the ones on the hunt even more determined.

The old general, finally realizing that it was now the time, stood in his chair.

"Ladies and gents! Your home has been violated. Intruded! Tresspassed! The Horde have walked inta' ye very heart and slaughtered an' innocent family. I call to anyone here now who would help us take vengeance. This bastard has to be caught!"

The generals words only pushed the mob from fury to nearly genocidal hatred, his words driving the crowd. He had control of them through their hatred now, and he could herd them as if they were sheep.

"Now! Settle down, na', settle...." he lowered his hands to have the crowd silent for a moment. "My scouts have informed me that this creature went ta' Stranglethorn, the tracks of his horse clear. he bypassed the trip ta' Stonard to catch a Zepplin fer faster transpertation. He is in the Jungle, and are we to let our families go slaughtered here with no penalty? Are we to let the Horde come and go and kill as they please?! Are we to sit here.." Tellin stomped on the table, breaking a glass beneath his foot to seem more serious to his viewers. "..And do nothing?! Tell me Goldshire!"

The crowd screamed "no!" at Tellin who responded with a loud cackle. "Then come with me, all of those who are able and willing, come and hunt this wretched beast! Come with me and show the Horde that we are not their stepping stones!" Tellin grabbed his blade and held it into the air. "For justice! For JUSTICE!"

Moments later the forest was loud with the sound of movement... the hunting part had been released.

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The water had risen even higher than before. It reached up to his knees as he pushed through the water. He turned and beckoned to the Undead that had agreed to help him.

The priest stopped at the stable master, deciding which mount would be best for the ride.

Hm. If they found the farmhouse, no doubt they knew that I traveled on horseback, those tracks would be obvious enough... and I think a raptor would blend in a bit more with stranglethorn...

He mounted his raptor, sure to keep the child close to him. The small child reached it's hand out to feel along the feathers that lined the back of the raptors head., then to feel the rain. The priest gave a small grin and held it a bit closer.

He looked behind him to see if the girl was ready.

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The coldness of the rain on areas of exposed flesh was noticeable, but also something to cause little effect. When you are dead, you do not normally carry much warmth. Ingesting the flesh of the recently departed can warm an undead body, temporarily at least, but it always returns to its natural cold state.

Darkblade felt the coldness, but it mattered naught. If anything, she was glad of the downpour, for it would make tracking a small group even that more difficult. Of course, it would also make spotting any ambushes that much more difficult. As hunters are attuned to nature, being able to hear and sense disturbances around them before encountering them, so do rogues use their own highly-trained senses to detect awaiting traps before blindly stumbling upon them. The weather would hamper that, so she would have to be even more in tune with her surroundings.

Watching the priest climb atop the trollish mount, she shook her head slightly. Trolls were revolting creatures, and she did not understand the desire to ride the creatures they were most well-known for having as a mount. Perhaps his desire for this mount was simply to help blend in to the jungle around the, which was rife with types of raptors.

Darkblade did not have that option, and even if she did would probably not have taken it. Her pride would have prevented that. Climbing atop the skeletal warhorse which had been her preferred mount for some time now, she moved the beast up alongside the Forsaken priest.

"The weather will favor us in avoiding detection, but it will also help any pursuers similarly. I know the route before us, and should lead, as I will hopefully be able to detect any trouble and act accordingly."

She glanced about, running over possible routes in her head. "We should avoid the roads. Nessingwary's camp is a high traffic locale, which we should also avoid. I have seen some of the alliance fighting the humans to the east of the road, just south of the mountains. We would have no problems going through the middle of them, and they would also likely be hostile to any whom would march against us...evening out our chances. Of course, there is but one way out of Stranglethorn to the North. We'd not be able to swim around the coast to Westfall with that package."

Darkblade stopped, waiting to see if her plan was acceptable to the priest.

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"Pretty pretty raptor. Pretty pretty child, and pretty pretty day to you, Shadowspeak. Why for art thou holding that babe with such tenderness? You'd think she were made of.. well..."

Djalli Dhey was standing next to her skeletal mount. The undead woman had a slight frame, her waist encased in a 15" corset, her long black hair soaked just as much as her robes. They were encumbersome, but no less extravagant. She was of the holy order, after all. She had to be presentable.

"..heh. No matter. Fancy meeting you out here. I haven't seen you since.. oh.. who knows..."

The preistess' eyes drifted towards the sky. Droplets of rain fell into her empty eye sockets, filling them a bit before she leaned forward once again, emptying them. It made for a rather gruesome spectacle, at least it would have to the living.

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Shadowspeak could do nothing but stare at the slender form from where the new voice spoke itself. it was her, again. The girl from that night in the tavern, yes he remembered. Of course, after the few words spoken to him, how could he forget her?

"Djalli Dhey. Priestess of the Holy path"

On the inside he was still chuckling at the thought, but his thoughts quickly turned to the problem at hand.

"Er... Djalli? Yes... I thought I had recalled your voice from some deep chasm in my mind. Yes, it has been a while... last I remember we were mindcontrolling a few ruffians inside the Rest Inn Peace."

He eyed the child that he know held even closer to his chest, then to the rogue to his side.

"Speaking of which miss, I believe we did not have a spare moment to exchange names or formalities, though now is not such a wonderful time. We must head on soon."

He turned to Djalli again.

"Djalli, we must take this child back to the Undercity for... research. I'm on an assignment from the Royal Apothecary Society itself." He stopped for a moment to let his words sink into thought. "The road.. ahead... is not a safe one in this weather, but we must take it. I dare not go to Booty Bay for I fear the water has stalled the ships, and the zepplins here sit in ruin. We move to Stonard."

He shifted his heels into his black and red mount to face the two girls.

"It does indeed sound like an excellent plan," he said in regard to Darkblades request. "We shall do as you wish. You look like a well experianced scout, and it would be good for you to pick the path... I know little of being subtle."

He shifted his glowing eyes, waiting for a response...


The group had struck an interesting turnpoint. Southern Duskwood had started to flood, and the tracks the creature left were washed away. It was clear what its' destination was though, the tracks had lead south the entire way.

"A'right men. Listen up... Get yer' asses ready for assignment!"

The mob, now fully mounted on horseback, faced their general.

"Gits sends word tha' the rain in Stranglethorn is a bit overbearin'. It'el make the path dangerous and prone ta' accidents. And keep an eye out for the fish. Now... Frent, I want you and yer' boys to take the entrance to Deadwind. We can't let this bastard have a chance ta' run inta' Stonard. Bellin, you sit 'ere on the Duskwood and Stranglethorn border. Take Ssabmud and Grec. The rest o' ya... comin' with me. Move out!"

He raised his sword into the air, and he was off with his men, off into the rain and darkness of Stranglethorn

(- In order to give a bit more look and feel of the story, this is Tellin. -)


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"What you lack in subtety, you make up for in firepower; do not worry. I am sure this roguish lass will be able to find a path more than suitable. As for you being on a mission for the Royal Apothicary Society..."

Djalli grinned and mounted her own horse. She tossed back hair hair with flourish, splattering water in all directions as it slapped down on her back.

"As you know, I am also employed by the Society. I take it as a personal mission to aid those who also work with my employers. Perhaps my holy light can illuminate a bit of cheer ahead for this little mission. What a sweet child.. he would make an excillent piece for their research. The poor thing. I wonder if you have been feeding it? It looks newly born. You realize that it will expire if you do not feed it soon? I doubt that is part of the plan. Goodness gracious me, whatever would you men do without us women? I daresay you would expire yourselves, and not in the good graces of the Banshee Queen."

Djalli chuckled a bit.

"That child requires a wet-nurse, love. It requires one soon. I suggest you find one, or your little trek will end with a dead babe in your hands before you reach Tirisfal."

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Darkblade nodded. "Let us be off, then." Spurring her mount on, she headed out the Eastern gate of Grom'gol, and past the smoldering wreckage of the crashed zeppelin. She planned to lead them just North of the ogres which occupied the ruins East of the fortification, and then to the river, which they would follow North.

She only hoped that the river had not overflown too much, or was flowing too fast, to impede their progress.

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He nodded in approval.

"I suppose you are right Miss Djalli, but what would you recommend feeding it? I have not the faintest idea of what to fee a child... after all, I've never had to take care of one before."

He watched as the rogue ran ahead.

"Well, I can't leave here without feeding it... I can't let it die. Unless, do you think we could arrive at Stonard before hunger would take over it, or shall we wait and feed it when we are outside of the rain and other dangers here in Stranglethorn?"

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Djalli chuckled, shaking her head.

"If we arrive at Stonard soon, it could help. Although I wonder how many lactating humans would be present there? An orc would do, perhaps even a Sin'Dorei.. but my word Shadowspeak, they are not so common in stations such as Stonard. It would be better if you found a more civilized place to take the child."

She paused.

"It is a shame that an animal would not do. Raw milk from other creatures could nourish the child, but there is bacteria in animal milk that a human would not survive at such an infantile state. If you purified it properly, the beneficial properties would be gone. You really have a dilemma on your hands, my dear Shadowspeak. I wonder what you can do?"

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"Well there has to be a way... Orcs are getting pregnant all the time, are they not? I've seen quite a few children at the orphanange in Orgrimmar. We must find a way, because I can not risk trying to find another child."

He looked down at the infant in his arms then back at the thin form he was speaking to.

"There has to be a way. A potion or... or something."

He considered his circumstances. What could he do? Every possible scenario played through his head, even the vision of possibly mindcontrolling a Human to feed it. People had babies all the time, but how would he know which one was ready to feed this child without being in labor? And where in Stranglethorn could he find a pregnant woman?

"Djalli, anything you can provide to the survival of this child, any knowledge or help, would be most appreciated and I can promise that I will make it up to you... I have never had to care for an infant and have honestly no idea how..."

He eyed the gate the rogue had chosen as her path.

"...We must think of something quick. My knowledge on such a thing is minute."

Wonderful father your turning out to be, eh?

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"Mmmm... well.." She smiled, considering. "What can be done.. I wonder. Can one substitute the milk of a mother's breast with anything else? I am not sure. Let us consider the possibility of taking advantage of one of the creatures we have at our disposal. The orcs could, I am sure, provide you with what it is you need. Of course.."

Djalli chuckled.

"If you do not mind backtracking, there is always Booty Bay. Plenty of nursing women there, I'm sure, considering all of the clientele the whorehouses have. Is that concern I see on your face, love? Hm, interesting.. well, you are in a rush to go to Stonard, aren't you? I wonder if Booty Bay would be a bit too civilized for the precious cargo you hold. Tell me, are you being followed? Does it's family care? Does it have a family? Did you take him from a willing whore? Let me go myself. You ride to Stonard. I will go to Booty Bay and get what is needed, and by the time you arrive at that rudimentary camp, I will be able to fly there quickly. Provided the rain lets up..."

She held a hand up to catch a few droplets in her palm. Djalli's mouth curved into a pleased smile.

"Would that be suitable?"

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He blinked. Once. Twice.

Can I trust her?

He pulled the baby closer into his embrace. There was no questioning a hunting party behind him. It was inevitable that he would have left tracks and that someone would have found the slaughter and the husband. The rain would have made it difficult for anyone to track them, but there were only a limited places that he could go and the hunter likely knew that.

Hmm. She is under the Royal Apothecarium Society. I do believe she would be trustworthy... I hope I am not making a mistake. And hopefully Booty Bay hasn't been submerged...

"Miss Djalli the path you have given appears to be the only one I can take. Please... take the child to Booty Bay. I suspect the ones that are hunting me, if they know where I am, are looking for an Undead. My tracks were likely a large sighn as to what kind of mount I was on... So be wary. I don't know if I have an army tracking my or a militia, but the pathway to Booty Bay might be safe."

He eyed the bloody cloth in his grip and held the child out. He did not deny a sense of "love" in his speech even as she asked.

"Please. Take him... I..." he stopped for a moment to think.

"..I wouldn't want this small creature to go to waste after all that work."

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Darkblade halted at the gate, turning her steed to look back at the two priests deep in discussion, curious as to what was so important. The downpour effectively muffled their words, so she had no idea what was being discussed.

She hoped the delay was worth it.

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"You know how to find me," Djalli said to Shadowspeak.

Then she took the baby, and rode.


It did not take long before she reached Booty Bay. Although the roads were flooded, her skeletal mount wase sure-footed, and was able to find it's way through the mud and water. Djalli held the child close, hidden beneath her cloak. It did not cry, but that did not keep the priestess from thinking about it. Shadowspeak seemed genuinely attatched to this tiny boy, this human spawn, this innocent child.

"I do wonder why.."

When she reached Booty Bay, many were seeking shelter within. She dismounted far away, shooing her horse into the woods where it would await her. It seemed more crowded inside than usual, which was good, considering that half of those within were Horde. A few people gave her glances as she entered, but nothing substancial. She walked casually through the busy port, towards a dilapitated building that read, "Snicketty's Bar and Grill".

Entering the establishment, Djalli knew from the get-go that it was merely a front for the owner's true calling; pimping out impoverished girls. The patrons at the bar seemed tired and worn, and nobody was eating from their menu. Djalli walked to a waiter and asked for "primary seating", upstairs. The waiter nodded and led her through a series of stairs, until they arrived at a hallway. Doors lined the hall, each with a name-tag.

"Human, female. If you please."

The wiater led her down the hall, to a door with a nametag that read "Sandy". Djalli pushed her way in, and glanced around. It was sparsely furnished, and cheaply decorated. A red-headed girl in her twenties looked up from her seated position on the bed. "'am," she said with a nod, and proceeded to remove her clothes.

Djalli smiled and walked over, then sat down next to the girl. She reached out a bony clawed hand, and caressed Sandy's heavy breasts. The girl winced, but did not complain. "These will do nicely," Djalli mused, and produced the baby from beneath her robes. "I'll give you twenty gold to feed my little boy, here."

"T-twenty?" Sandy stammered, looking at the child in shock. "How did you.."

Djalli waved a hand. "Never mind that. Do we have a deal?"

The red-head nodded and took the baby from Djalli. It cried a moment, before being placed against her breast. Djalli obsered tears in Sandy's eyes as she looked lovingly at the child.

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