Sin'Anindoth

”The people want you Churchill”

The High Secretary swallowed, that horrible lump still stuck in the back of his throat.

”They are scared and Confused. They need someone to reassure them, to let them know what’s going on”

The High Secretary checked his speech again, the already crumpled papers folded in his top pocket covered in personal annotations and edits from the original propaganda.

”High Secretary Lloyd Churchill, you have been the peoples champion throughout this war. Its time they saw your face.”

Even though the hard work of the Dark Rangers, the Society, the Kor’Krons, Deathguards, and Forsaken volunteers, four of the weapons had remained unfound and, five hours after the hunt began, had detonated. The blasts had shaken the Undercity to the core, and even in the Cabinet War room, deep in the vaults under even the Lower Apothecarium, the explosion had knocked several Secretaries off their feet, dust and grit falling from cracks in the carved stone ceilings, hanging torches swinging on their chains dripping hot wax onto the table. Churchill himself had only remained upright by clinging onto the table, but he had felt the surge of emotions as it hit him – the Undercity was under attack.

With the onlookers in stony silence, The High Secretary stepped up onto the Podium, and looked down upon the gathered crowds.

There were millions of them. The entirety of the Palace courtyard in the ruined city was packed with Forsaken of all types, Ghasts, ghouls, and abominations squeezed in tight with zombies, Val’kyr and ghosts. Off-duty Kor’kron were also visible, along with trolls, Elves, Tauren and Goblins clutching instant portrait devices. A Gaggle of the later were formed at the front of the Crowd, torches flashing as portraits were taken of his rise up onto the platform, while a flesh giant that was peering over the outer walls shielded its eyes from the lights. The sheer size of the turnout took Churchill back a bit, as a politician that was more used to his office than public life, the fact that this many would turn out to hear him speak was… incredible. Faranell was right. He may just be the peoples champion.

Clearing his throat, he began.

“On the eleventh of this month, four bombs exploded within the heart of Lordaeron. They detonated among the innocent and unknowing, indiscriminately killing and maiming innocent people that went about their daily lives. The bombs did not differentiate between Forsaken, elf and Orc, they hurt all regardless of race or religion. The attack was the result of extremists and murderers, with the intent of spreading hatred and terror across out great city.”

As he spoke, the crowd gradually got louder, bursting into an uproar that began to drown him out. Taking a pause, he raised a hand, and instantly, the crowd fell silent.

“But they failed. The enemy came with hate and terror but all they found was unity and strength! This attempt was pioneered to target innocents, but instead, it has opened our eyes to action! Through the brave efforts of ordinary people, exhibiting heroism like no hero I have ever met, our people worked together while cut off from any help, to evacuate victims of the blast, even when injured themselves, risking their own lives to save another’s. The Kor’Kron, while stationed to watch our City, still stepped out and above the line of duty to help us in our hour of need, some even ignoring direct orders from Orgrimmar to put their own necks on the line to rescue civilians. The Society worked tirelessly throughout the night to triage and save countless injured, with limited equipment and manpower, still managing to prevent more casualties of this attack. And all through this, our brave, noble Queen remained alongside her people, stalwart in the face of danger, never once faltering in her duty to keep us safe. Never once thinking about her own safety, Never once concerned about herself over you.”

As the High Secretary took a pause for breath, the Crowd remained in utter silence. Slowly, a weathered Orc veteran raised a fist, and with a voice like no other, cheered out over the crowd. The effect was instantaneous, like a ripple the crowd burst into cheers and claps, their determination and resilience taking more of Churchill’s breath away than the entirety of the speech so far. With a rise of his podgy hand, he silenced them once more.

“Even now, Wrynn mobilises troops against us. A state of war exists between us and Allied Azeroth. And the Alliance will not stop at defeating our troops. They will happily destroy our farmers, our traders, our scholars. They will wipe out our race happily, and with a smile on their face. And we, we Forsaken, we in the unity of the Horde, we will not let that happen. Even if Wrynn marched on the Undercity itself, we the proud Forsaken will stand in his way in every street, in every home. We will not falter until the last Human falls and the head of the Tyrant himself is taken! For Lordaeron is our land! We were born here, we were slain here. And yet, even in death, we rose up to defend our lands from those who wish to take it from us through force and violence, and we will never Surrender it to Stormwind! Men of Lordaeron, in this hour I call upon you to live by three words, three words that have kept the Society alive all these years, three words that have won us our lands back. Three words that when remembered, can push us through the greatest dangers, and the biggest fears. For when death rises up to call us, we must all close our eyes and make the decision to ‘Keep Buggering on!’”

The crowd needed no prompting to burst into cheers and applause that time, all fear and anger lost to pride and Patriotism. Churchill spotted a Forsaken hug and Kiss an elf, as a Squad of orcs began chanting songs. With a sigh of relief, he stepped down from the podium, Watson placing a reassuring hand on his back and helping lead him towards a lift.

“You don’t believe the Alliance was behind this attack, do you High Secretary?”

“Wrynn is an evil man Watson, and I would put nothing past him… but no. I don’t believe that this was his work.”

“So… who?”

“I don’t know Watson. But I intend to find out.”

The ringing in my ears seemed endless, tearing into my skull and filling it with screams. I could taste the metallic taint of blood in my mouth mixed with dust and grit. Blinded I waved my arms around frantically, desperately trying to catch hold of one of the many bodies that trampled over me in panic. A bony foot caught me in the ribs and I silently cried out in pain. Reaching down I grasped my side and found my hand drenched. It became clear very quickly that I was bleeding out and it wouldn't be long until I lost consciousness. My entire right hand side would not respond, so with my left arm I dragged myself across the ground and just hoped that eventually someone would spot me and come to my....


The first thing I noticed was the smell. The scent stung my nostrils and I could feel my face contort with disgust. With a groan of objection I tried to roll away, but with sharp smack to my left cheek I found myself very awake and very irritable.

“What the fel?!?!” I screamed.

Through my blurred vision I strained to focus on the hooded shape that sat on the side of the bed I laid upon. A grave and hollow chuckle echoed from the depths of the hood.

“Tough one to wake up. Lazy little elf.” I could hear the toothy grin form within the shadow as the stranger patted me mockingly on the head. “Though I'm impressed you're still with us considering,” it remarked casually as it stood and began to slide away from me.

“Wait! What do you mean? What happened?” I called, but the figure moved on and out of the dim light created by the candle beside me.

As the light flickered I rocked and shifted myself into a sitting position and readied myself to assess the damage. I had already realised that the right side of my face was bandage, covering my eye and impeding my vision. What ever was underneath that dressing wasn't good and I decided to address that issue later. Although my legs were covered in gashes I seemed to still have full control of their movement. OK, so far not too bad, at least I knew I could walk. Inhaling sharply and reached over to feel my right arm that hung lifelessly...

There was cold bone where there should be soft warm skin.

I could feel my heart start to race as I stared down at what used to be my arm. In panic I scratched away at the bandages covering my face, tearing desperately and violently. As the torn bandages fell down at my side my hand froze at it touched what had been hidden. The flesh was cracked and solid from the burns I had received. My eyelid was sealed shut, either from the damage to the skin or by those who saw to my injuries I do not know. I couldn't tell what condition the eye was in, but knew in my heart that it wasn't going to be good news.

Sitting there in shock I took in my surroundings and noticed the rows of victims laid out along with me. How could this have happened? The Thorns had taken care to keep the Undercity safe. I had personally hidden the bombs we had found planted and there was no way they could be found without me. There is no way it was the same people. But who would do such a thing? I needed to get in contact with my Thorn brothers and sisters as soon as possible and hope that none of them had been caught up in this. Whatever happened it clearly had the desired affect and would now cause an even more horrific backlash.

Arli ran from Undercity, up through the ruins and past the cheering crowds, glancing at the figure standing on the podium - taking a second glance as he recognised him from his Granfather's formal dinner that he and Dianthaa had attended recently. Arli barely broke his pace as he ran past and on to the translocator to Silvermoon, he had to see Serrar - and urgently. Arli kept running until he reached Murder Row, hammering on Serrar's door with his fist. As Serrar opened the door Arli stood, catching his breath and looked down, suddenly unsure what to say.

"Arli?" asked Serrar looking puzzled

"It's...it's Dia" he finally replied, his voice cracking.

"Come in "said Serrar, opening the door further, "You two had a fight?"

Arli looked up and shook his head, his eyes looking watery.

"Come on Arli, come in" said Chey softly, taking his hands and leading the dazed-looking elf into the apartment as Serrar quietly closed the door behind him. "What happened?" she said as she looked into Arli's eyes.

"The..the..Undercity..bombs.." Arli stuttered

Chey tensed slightly.

"..Dia got hurt, he's unconscious, they c..c..can't wake her" Arli looked at Serrar as he walked over to the kitchen area. "She said sh h..heard you two talking of Undercity".

Serrar stopped suddenly, turning he fixed a look of confusion on his face.

"She..s..said you talked of goin' through the tunnel into the City" he continued hesitently.

"Well..yes?" replied Serrar "After the Thorns beat me up, we thought best to use the less-used entrance to the City if we needed to go there, your Thorns are often around the ruins?"

Arli nodded slightly.

"Wait...surely you don't..? No, you don't think I had a part in this?"

Arli kept looking at Serrar, not agreeing to or denying the statement.

"Arli...you know me, what do I know of explosives? It's not my style, a good kicking in a dark alley...you know that's more me. And what have I against Undercity"

Arli screwed up his now stinging eyes.

"Sorry..I...I don't know what I'm thinking...sorry...just she's hurt and what if she dies and..and..."

"Oh, Arli" said Chey as she put her her arms around him. Arli fought back the tears - emotion was a weakness, he knew that, the Mistress was always telling him - but he found himself starting to sob as he buried his face in Chey's shoulder. What was he doing accusing one of the few real friends he had? He should be finding who did this, who placed the bombs that hurt her.

"It's ok...she's in good hands now. I'm sure she will be fine, she's a Thorn, you're all fighters, all survivors." continued Chey softly

Arli nodded as he stepped away, wiping away the tears and looking ashamed of himself.

"Here" said Serrar, passing him a large bourbon as Chey guided him to the sofa.

Arli sat down and took a long swig of the bourbon, staring into the drink, his mind going over and over all the enemies they had, who could possibly have the resources to obtain Alliance-made explosives and plant them in the City, unseen.

Arli looked at Chey with sudden realisation "I..I know who did this. He's got minions, magical stuff to take control of people, fel he could even have used one of the Dark Rangers, got them under his control....he's used Alliance before, the poisons and..and...he's after Thorns."

Serrar and Chey exchanged a confused glance.

"I know who it is! Fel...it's the Master!!"

Arli made his apologies and in his hurry to leave and get back to the Undercity, didn't notice the looks of relief on the faces of his two friends.

The High Secretary and Watson strode through the City purposely. What would usually be a busy hub of trade and commuters was a derelict shell; empty and abandoned. Everyone was either up top taking shelter in the ruins, taking care of the injured, helping clear the wreckage, or worse, a victim themselves. There had been an explosion by the bank – the least devastating, as the thick re-enforced vaults of the Montague’s bank had weathered the blast, refusing to buckle from the bomb instead blackening from the soot and smoke that had hammered its stone walls. The Montagues, protected by various enchantments, had survived despite being just metres from the bomb, and were all by the Church or the Apothecarium helping with the wounded.

“So High Secretary, who are our main suspects?”

Watson asked the question almost sheepishly, as if nervous to hear the answer.

“Well Watson, we have the obvious selection. It could be the Knights of Lordaeron, an act of revenge for Southshore… a little late in coming I must admit. Dually, I doubt this would be them, murdering villains as they may be, hidden explosives are something they have never tried.”

Watson scribbles this down, as Churchill continued.

“Then we have the Grundal Um Karaz, but again… Dwarves don’t strike me as a race to attack with hidden explosives. Then again, put them on the maybe list, we should check just in case. And then, who I would say is the most likely independent Alliance group, we have the Wardens of Azeroth, or the Brotherhood of Shadow. I don’t think I need explain why I suspect they could be our Culprits.”

“Right Sir, very right.”

The pair descended slowly into the sprawling outer ring of the Trade quarter, quietly discussing further Allied suspects. As they approached the corridors leading to the Canals, the city began to get busier, Apothecaries with bandages sprinting past them, heading towards the Apothecarium, Kor’kron carrying equipment to the Church, and Dark rangers still searching for more explosives. As he passed one, the High Secretary reached out a hand and rested it gently on her shoulder.

“Lemayas.”

The Dark ranger turned, and Watson could see her eyes were watery, her cheeks puffed out and swollen. The girl – for she was only a girl, barely past teenage years – had been crying, and obviously for quite a while.

“There there Lemayas, now what’s the matter?”

Watson was suddenly taken aback. He had known the high Secretary through life and death, but he had never known him to speak so softly, so considerately, so… nice. He actually cared about this Girl, although Watson had a feeling that right now, Churchill would have spoken to anyone in such a situation just as softly.

“N-Nothing H-High Secret-tary. I-I’m fine S-Sir.”

“Now Lemayas, you’re not fooling anyone. Out with it.”

“I-its C-Clea sir, s-she was c-caught in the W-War quarter b-blast. S-She’s injured Sir, Badly.”

“I’m… I’m sorry Lemayas. Go to her, she’ll be being looked after near the Church. I’ll tell Champion Blightcaller that I gave you leave for personal reasons.”

With a teary sniff, the Girl nodded, and went to run off, but before she got more than a few feet away, Churchill stopped her.

“Oh and Lemayas!”

“Y-Yes High Secretary?”

“Keep buggering on.”

With a nod to Winston, the High Secretary began walking again, following the Girl as she rounded a corner out of sight.
“You know Watson, I believe that this attack may have come from within the Horde.”

“High Secretary, you mean… we have traitors among us?”

“I was contacted earlier by the Blood knights of Silvermoon. They received a Missive in Thalassian from a Sin’Doreai in the Shatterskull Marauders accepting full responsibility on behalf of the Warband.”

“So… The marauders did it?”

“I very much doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Firstly, I happen to know that, despite their publicised distaste for the Royal Apothecary Society, they have several very Loyal forsaken within their ranks, and they would never betray the Horde. Secondly, they have been stationed in Feralas for a while now, which is several days from here, and discrete travel is not easy. Thirdly, they have no access to any Alliance munitions, and even if they wanted to, their leadership hates the Alliance with a Passion. No, I think our attacker was keeping his cards close to his chest, but by trying to frame the Marauders he slipped us a glance at his hand.”

“High Secretary?”

“The Note was written in Thalassian, and sent to the Blood Knights. Why forge forging a letter? It would be far easier for our perpetrator to pretend to be a Marauder than pretend to be a Blood Elf –and- a marauder.”

“So you think we’re looking for an Elf?”

“Not necessarily. But it’s a lead my dear Watson. And investigating the horde is significantly easier than investigating the Alliance.”

Watson Nodded, and turned to look at their destination. They had arrived at the Magic Quarter, the church of Forgotten Shadow standing strong in the centre. Around it, were hundreds of wounded, being pawned over by Apothecaries and priests, the girl Lemayas sobbing over a wounded Dark Ranger. Across the Canal was a pile of Rubble, abominations and Kor’Kron clearing it away, searching for survivors. Above them bats, Val’kyr and Gargoyles swarmed the air alongside Ghosts and banshees that swooped around the rubble trying to see or hear those still trapped. The high Secretary turned to Watson, nodding at him.

“I can tell you’re itching to help Watson. Go, I’ll make my way to the Royal quarter alone.”

As Watson ran off, Churchill felt a lump of sadness form in his throat. If he was wrong, then the Alliance was more dangerous than he thought, and Lordaeron would soon have to defend its boarders. If he was right, then the Horde had traitors among them. And who would want the Horde to split from within?

((this is all getting so good! Love the High Secretary so much Cain ))

The cabinet meeting had overrun, and the High secretary was beginning to get grouchy. Several of the less important members of the cabinet had wasted almost an hour on circumstantially unimportant drivel, which means that once again this week, Churchill was late for his tummy time. When a country is at war, and its capital city has been directly attacked from within, taxes and health and safety in inns does not come above defence and strategy in the Agenda, so eventually, Churchill just had the Ministers responsible thrown out before getting to work on the real crisis at hand.

Of the remaining members of the cabinet, the three Churchill trusted the most had remained quiet all night, frustrating him even further. Master Apothecary Faranell; or one of his mirror image decoys, Churchill could never tell, had remained deep in thought throughout the entire meeting, staring at his notes. Champion Blightcaller, usually a strong, calculated and intelligent voice on the council had been oddly vacant for the past few hours, although the High Secretary suspected this was an attribute of Boredom. Hawkins had, as usual, spent the entire night staring at each Cabinet member in turn, assessing their threat to him and probably planning ways to gut them all should the need arise. Regardless, progress needed to be made, and preferably as soon as possible; his dinner was getting cold.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I believe there is a possibility that our Attacker may be a traitor from within the Horde.”

Mumbled chatter broke out at Churchill’s closing statement, as the High Secretary sat down and re-arranged the paperwork in front of him. Plucking a fresh cigar out of its case with his sharpened fingernail, he lit it then leaned back in his chair, ready to accept the inevitable questions. And, as anticipated, the questions came, trivial notions, such as ‘Are you prepared to back this theory up with the Warchief’ or ‘How do you intend on preventing a repeat attack?” With a grumpy sniff, Churchill pushed himself upright in his chair, and prepared to answer.

“Enough.”

Champion Blightcallers short blunt statement stopped the High Minister in his tracks, silencing the entire room with a single word. The Dark Ranger slowly rose in his seat, observing the eyes that all – except Faranell’s – stared at him.

“We have talked this over and over for hours, and we are all tired. No more progress will be made tonight. High Minister, close this meeting until the Morning.”

As the champion sat, he looked at Churchill, who swore he saw the Ranger wink. A second later however, his face was as sullen as it had ever been.

Delivered to the offices of Lok'Tar in Orgrimmar.

Serrar slowed his Hawkstrider as he approached the weathered building, last time he had been this close was when he saw the Silvermoon military approaching silently through the trees that surrounded the gang base. He'd barely got away unseen and since that night, he hadn't returned. He knew of no others in the gang that had been so fortunate as to be outside, it was 5am, late enough for most to be asleep, far, far too early for any to have started the new day. He would have been there, had he not being seeing to some personal contracts, something forbidden by the gang - all contracts were to go through the leader - but his greed had saved him.

The building was almost derelict, windows were partially boarded up and the paintwork faded and peeling. It seemed unlikely that it had been lived in for a very long time. Serrar dismounted and set his Hawkstrider on a long leash which he attached to a low branch; a look around the old building would rekindle fond memories of his time in the gang, when he was part of the pack and not in this unnatural state forced upon him now, that of being a lone wolf. He smiled softly as he thought of Chey, ..well...not truly alone any more...

Serrar pushed on the battered front door, it was unlocked and the aged hinges creaked as he made a gap wide enough to slip through. He walked along the main corridor, looking in a few of the rooms - the common room where they used to hang out and smoke 'thistle, play cards and get drunk. The sparse dorm where the lower ranks spent their sleeping hours, just basic bed mats and little privacy, but worth it to be an accepted member of the gang. The stairs creaked as he climbed them and he walked along the smaller upstairs corridor, pausing outside the third room from the stairs. This, was his own room. The officers had the larger rooms further from the noise of the downstairs, but as a direct report to them, he had the luxury of a small room to himself. The door was smashed, like all of the others, most likely kicked down when the base was raided. The light filtering in from the hastily fixed boards on the window showed the room as empty of anything but broken pieces of wood and disintegrating cloth. Not that he expected anything...but...it was his room nonetheless.

Serrar spun around at the sound of footfalls on creaking stairs and a male voice. His hands resting near his daggers, he stepped out quickly into the corridor and faced towards the stairs. Serrar quickly assessed the two figues close to the top of the stairs; Sin'dorei, two, male, ...squatters? Armed? ...yes.. Blood Knights? ...no... The two stopped suddenly on seeing Serrar, seemingly running the same questions through their heads as after a moment, they took the last few steps and stood at the top of the stairs.

"This is private property, friend" said the first with a smile, his stance mirroring Serrars, also ready to defend if attacked. "And if you've come to loot the place, then I'm afraid you are many years too late", he laughed.

The second male looked at Serrar and then frowned slightly, whispering to his friend. The first male looked at Serrar, any sign of friendliness stripped away.

"Kel'dos" he spat

Serrar silently watched the two before him; they were in the gang although he knew he easily out ranked them.

"You've a nerve showing your face in Quel'thalas, let alone here" he continued, his voice low and threatening. "You sold us out to Silvermoon...you bastard".

So..some did escape the executions and brain washing.. Serrar went through the possible scenarios of now having been found as still alive by former gang members. If those two were still around, chances are that some others were too. Each with a grudge against him, each would want him dead or handed over to the Blood Knights...same result, death.

"I didn't sell you out" he replied evenly

"No? Funny how you were the only one that escaped eh? Funny how no one has seen you for years." added the second male. "oh...you are so gonna get what's coming to you Kel, there's a few who are gonna be real interested that you're back."

"Brothers...it's good to see you again" said Serrar with a warm smile, his arms outstretched before him in a gesture of friendship. "You're just what I need. I started up a new, better gang, more profit and so a much bigger share to the members. Could use your skills, brothers".

The two males glanced at each other and then back at Serrar. He could tell they didn't trust him, but were unmistakedly interested in what he had to offer. Their clothes were worn, their skin sallow, clearly down on their luck they would jump at any opportunity for fast, easy gold.

Serrar smiled and walked towards them, his whole demeanor open and friendly. The first male smiled slightly in return and relaxed. Without warning, Serrar quickly stepped forward and slammed his fist into the first males face, sending him flying backwards into his friend and the two falling awkwardly down the stairs. Serrar ran down after them, the first managed a look of fear before Serrar's dagger went cleanly into his heart, the second crying out in fear and trying to crawl away before Serrar kicked him over and he met the same fate as his friend.

Serrar stood and watched the two former gang members as their life force swiftly drained away. Well, what option did he have? He hadn't spent all these years in hiding to have two scrubs from the lower ranks spoil all his hard work. Serrar crouched and wiped his dagger on the shirt of the corpse closest to him. He'd have to move the bodies some place where they wouldn't be easily found until he could dispose of them properly.

“I stand here, now, alive, and only thanks to the heroism displayed by the few who I stand before.”

Before him, stood the entirety of the Dark Rangers of the Undercity, frozen to attention as the High Secretary finished his speech. Four of them, as well as one Junior Apothecary, had a medal pinned to their chest; a reward for discovering one of the five bombs that had been successfully disarmed before their time had come. Of their number the High Secretary could name most, ‘know your soldiers names, and they know you’ as the saying goes. There, in the front rank even, stood Clea, her arm splinted but otherwise healthy. Beside her was the Girl Lemayas, a good head and a half under her friend, her eyes in their permanent ‘wide open’ position. Then, just a few personnel to the left, was Anya and Cyndia, both of whom had their medal proudly positioned over their left breast. Before them Champion Blightcaller stood to attention, looking proud of his troops. Technically, it should have been the Queen giving this speech – as the leader of the Dark Rangers and banshee Queen of the Forsaken it was her position, but unfortunately she had been forced to cancel at the last minute, leaving her High Secretary to take the ceremony. And Just as well, the Queen was known to find the Church of Forgotten Shadow disturbing, and the ceremony had begun with a lengthy Prayer. The High Secretary on the other hand, attended church every week, believing that for Victory, he needed the Shadow to be on the Forsakens side. He saw their three virtues as an intelligent guide for life, Respect, Tenancy and power, three traits all Forsaken should strive to balance in their lives. And lastly he knew the sheer popularity he gained for being a religious leader; most forsaken followed the Shadow, and wanted a High Secretary that was also spotted in church.

As the High Secretary watched, Champion Blightcaller ordered the Dark Rangers fall out to their duties. Ten of them, following orders from Champion Blightcaller, filed towards the High Secretary, standing to attention as they waited for the room to clear. As the last Dark Ranger marched out, the Champion approached the assembled Rangers, standing alongside the High Secretary.

“Ladies, until further instruction is given, you are being placed under the direct command of the High Secretary. For the duration of that time, any order he gives you, is to be acted upon as if it were an order from myself. Do you all understand?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Very well. Squad, stand at ease and await further instruction from the High Secretary.”

As one, the assembled Rangers stood at ease, with the possible exception of the smallest Ranger present, who moved her leg a half-second out of time with the rest of them. Noticing her mistake, she looked horrified for a few seconds, but brightened up when the High Secretary smiled directly at her. Coughing, he began.

“Ladies, I’m sure you all have a basic Idea why I asked Champion Blightcaller for your assistance. We have suspicions that the attacks may have come from within the Horde – two organisations have apparently claimed credit for the terrorist attacks, the Shatterskull Marauders and Sin’Anindoth. We also have suspicions on eight different Alliance groups, whom may have attempted to frame organisations within the Horde as Traitors. Each of you will be assigned one Organisation to watch, which you will do with the utmost discretion. As all are possible suspects, you must not let them know you are investigating them, indeed all contact should be minimised or non-existent.”

The High Secretary paused, to suck thoughtfully on his cigar. He eyed each of the Dark Rangers in turn – he had hand-picked them for the tasks, and was fully aware that he could be sending them to their deaths. It just made his job even harder to do.

“Dark Ranger Suncrier?”

“Sir?”

“We’ll start with you. You will track down and Identify the leading members of Sin’Anindoth. I must stress that you must not engage them – if they are the culprits we will need them alive to find out who they are working with. I have here a copy of the notes they have sent to ‘Lok’Tar’, start by evaluating the handwriting. Fall out now and get started.”

The High Secretary felt worried as Lemayas marched away. The poor girl was an emotional wreck but, unfortunately, she was a very good fighter. The claims from Sin’Anindoth backed up his theory that the terrorists were Blood Elves, meaning that he was sending her into a nest of very dangerous villains. But as Champion Blightcaller said – for such a clumsy, liability of a Dark Ranger, Lemayas was a very good fighter. Plus, she needed a mission to take her mind of Cleas injury.

Turning to the nine remaining Rangers, the High Secretary continued.

"Whilst I applaud your ingenuity and grudgingly admire your sheer audacity, I cannot condone this action" Halduron Brightwing raged.
Chey opened her mouth but was immediately silenced by a raised hand from the Ranger General.
"It's only because I promised you on my honour that I would assist where I could that I haven't had the pair of you arrested, convicted and executed..Do you realise the enormity of what your act has done?"
Halduron sat down heavily and looked from one to the other.
"I..I..was trying to explain Sir..." ventured Chey, her voice small and scared. "We disassociated with Sin'Anindoth some time ago, true we did start it...but support grew and two who joined us became too extreme and were talking of assassination plots and the like...we thought it was all just hot air and bluster Sir..." her lip trembled and her hands shook.
"You have names?" Halduron looked keenly at her. She nodded slowly.
"They were Meldos and Delfurian My Lord" interjected Serrar as he placed a comforting arm around Chey. "We never knew their other names"
Halduron nodded.
"We haven't done anything Sir..maybe we should have mentioned it...but it was quite a while ago now and we haven't seen them since....and we only just heard about the Undercity because we were away for a little on our honeymoon" Chey added quietly.

Halduron nodded but kept his gaze fixed between the two.

"Don't leave the city until I clear it, I have records to check and enquiries to make" Halduron ordered in a softer tone.
Chey nodded and wiped her eyes while Serrar nodded his assent.
"Of course my Lord, anything we can do to assist we will" he said giving a forced smile "Not least to clear our names, but I can assure you Sir, the information we've given is true"
"Dismissed for now, I want you to report here everyday at 8.00am for the next few days,"
Serrar nodded slowly.
"We're under arrest?" he ventured
"No, but I need to be able to verify your movements, you will not leave the confines of Eversong at all and you will stay within the city walls after 8.00pm until after you have reported to me every morning." The Ranger replied. "This is for your good as well as the city"
"Sir" they both replied.
"You can go, Sun guide you both"
His arm firmly round her shoulder Serrar guided the upset Chey from the Rangers office. As they walked down the steps Serrar kissed her on the side of her head whispering inaudibly to those around "Well done Chey..."

"Hey, Arli"

Arli stopped and turned at the sound of Serrar's voice. Serrar looked at the young elf before him, the stress of the past few days evident by the dark rings under his eyes. He noticed that Arli didn't greet him with his usual smile.

"How is Dianthaa?" asked Serrar.

Arli looked at him for a moment before replying, uncharacteristically choosing his words before he spoke.

"I'm a Thorn. I'm loyal to the Thorn Mistress, who in turn is loyal to Undercity. I saw the newspaper, you gave me no choice. She is away right now, but a report has been filed."

Serrar nodded slowly.

"And....if Dianthaa dies" continued Arli, his voice empty of emotion, "then Chey too becomes a victim."

Without further word, Arli turned away and carried on walking. Serrar watched him for a few moments before switching on his comms and speaking quietly;

"Chey.....we need to follow through with the plan as soon as able....Arli put the Thorns before Silvermoon as you said he would.....meet me back at home."

"Cheyenne?" Serrar?" can you hear me?" a faint thalassian voice came over the communicators. Chey and Serrar exchanged a look, Serrar frowned and held a finger to his lips, warning Chey not to respond. She nodded once in response.
"Serrar?Chey? do you hear me?" The female voice again. "Dammit Blayke...they can't hear..." this last sentence was in common and spoken and obviously not intended for comms.
"It's Robi" whispered Chey to Serrar in amazement.
"Robi?Is that you?" Serrar spoke into his device.
"Who's askin'?" came the reply, the sound of relieved laughter in the voice.
"It's Serrar Commander..." replied Serrar, giving Chey a soft smile as she raised a surprised eyebrow at his address to Robi as 'Commander'.
"Am I glad to hear you, is Chey there too?" she asked
"Yes I am" Chey answered into her own communicator.
"We were worried..well done by the way a good result..." Robi continued "However some bombs didn't detonate we understand...we don't want them traced back to us"
"Well same here Robi" said Chey tetchily "We're under curfew while investigations are going on..."
"Ok..we need a plan..." started Robi "Do you need to be brought in?"
"No...we have a plan of sorts" explained Serrar "I would like to leave going on the run as a last resort"
"I agree" offered Chey.
"Fair comment. you both know the situation there better than we do" agreed Robi "But if you need us to get you out, call, the comms have been opened between us, its not stable but its secure, my best expert has ensured that"
"Security is my middle name..." came a male voice.
Chey laughed "Hello Monty"
Robi translated and in very poor thalassian repeated parrot fashion from Robi's prompts a reply came from Monty.
"Bal lad ash mal lan dor ray"
Chey laughed, delighted at the gesture.
"Bal'a dash, Monty" she replied.
"OK..OK" laughed Robi lightly "This is a coms channel not a dial a date service...your plan Serrar?"

Serrar explained about the bodies of the two gang members he had killed, they hoped to dress them in their Sin'Anindoth tabards and if The Brotherhood could supply another bomb they were planning to blow the bodies up and make it look as if it was another failed bombing attempt. He explained that they had already claimed disassociation with Sin'Anindoth.

"That could work" said Robi "but what about curfews and such?"
There was a moments silence.
"We'll have to risk it..." said Serrar

"Seems to me" said Blayke with an affected sigh "That the only way to do this properly..ensuring the explosive goes off properly primed and timed is for me to do it myself, at least half of what I gave you failed to detonate"
"Amateurs.." Blayke muttered away from the mic but close enough to ensure they heard him.

There was a moment of quiet on coms, but both Serrar and Chey could hear animated conversation in common filtering through the earpieces.

"Ok" said Robi a few minutes later. "Heres the plan...You two were on honeymoon in a remote part of the Gilnean countryside, a privately rented remote cottage just outside Stormglen Village, in the unlikely event investigators want to check it out, I'll make sure they find just enough traces of Sin'Dorei occupancy to verify it"
"You'd do that for us?" ventured Serrar
"Its for us too, we don't want you caught and besides, I won't leave any of my people to face trouble alone" replied Robi. "tell us where the bodies are, and we will arrange the rest, I wont tell you where we are doing this, then you can't lie if asked"

There followed a deep question and answer session between them.
How were the two men killed? Where were the wounds?Did they die outright or bleed to death?
These questioned were asked several times to ensure The Brotherhood were in possession of everything they needed for a hasty execution of the plan.
"I'll sort the tabards..." said Robi
"No need...I have already left them with the bodies in case they were discovered first, its unlikely but can't ignore the possibility" reported Serrar.
"Ok then we're good to go...stay safe you two, and remember call us if you need to be brought in..oh and always open your call by saying Mrs K as a kind of code word so we know its you and you havent been arrested." Robi stated firmly "Brotherhood out."

Serrar and Chey looked at each other in silence for a long moment after the transmission ended.
"It's strange, that the humans assist us where our own people turned their backs..."said Serrar thinking of Arli.
"You trust them?" asked Chey
Serrar nodded "Don't You?"
Chey nodded too, Alandore, she had enough reason not to, but somehow despite all of her misgivings about Robi, Chey had to admit she found herself having faith in her and her shadows.
Perhaps there was hope in this situation yet.

"All clear, Commander" speaks Odenia quietly over the comms channel. her ability to shape-shift into a bird enabled her to scout ahead and confirm that our target location, the tunnel entrance into Undercity, was clear.

All communication is restricted to quiet words over the comms channel, so as to reduce our chances of being detected. The Commander looks at myself and Monty in turn and exchanging a brief nod we head across Tirisfal, ever vigilant for forsaken patrols or travellers who might stumble upon us. I will admit a begrudging respect for the lengths the Commander is going to in the interests of protecting those in the Brotherhood, as well as those affiliated.

"Where best, Blayke?" asks the Commander as we regroup at the Undercity side entrance.

I look around, there is a small hollow close to the wall, ideal for concentrating the blast from the small explosive I've brought with me.

"Here, Commander"

She nods in agreement; "Now follow me" she adds, heading down the hill, "I moved them from Eversong, earlier".

We head a short way from the tunnel, hidden on the hillside in the overgrowth are the bodies, both male and wearing the colours of the Commanders latest pets - Sin'Anindoth. Odenia and Monty carry a body each, Odenia proving deceivingly strong and capable when in her feline form. With Robi flanking them, I go ahead and prepare the explosives, setting the timer for just one minute.

"Put the bodies close, as if they were close enough to be setting the explosive when it unexpectedly detonated" I instruct the two as without question, they place them as instructed. The explosive is deadly enough to cause the corpses significant trauma damage without making them unrecognisable.

"I've set it for one minute, when I say 'run', you'd better run pretty damned fast" I grin wickedly as I glance at my companions. Explosives are one of the more satisfying parts of my role in the Brotherhood, and one I excel at. I shake hy head slowly as I ready the primer, if that damned arrogant belf had taken instruction then all of the explosives would have detonated and at least there would be no risk of the unexploded ones being traced back to me.

With a faint click, the timer starts; "Run!"

Ensuring that the Commander and Odenia are safely in front of me, and knowing that Monty's middle name is probably "sprinter", we run down the hill and into a hollow, far enough away but still with view of the tunnel entrance. All the time I count under my breath...57...58.., I watch the tunnel entrance expectantly....59..60. The explosion echoes around Tirisfal and the tremors are even felt underfoot.

"Mission complete, Commander"

"Well done Blayke and well done all for a successful mission" she replies with a genuine smile.

"You need a man, not a belf, if you want the job doing well" I add, somewhat smugly.

I'm rather surprised the remark is met with a laugh rather than admonishment at the "B" word.

"I suggest we move out, Commander, this place will be crawling with forsaken pretty damned soon" I add at the sound of voices echoing up above.

Remaining in the shadows we make our way back across Tirisfal and towards Chillwind Camp. Back to our new, quieter, base for a debrief and then perhaps a quiet drink at the nearby Inn. Odenia is turning out to be a lot more than I initially took her for, and I'm really beginning to think that I'd like to get to know her better. As I glance at her she catches my eye and I smile and wink, she rolls her eyes and looks away and I find it makes me smile.

(( This is awesome stuff guys, keep it up, I especially love how you work together on your posts! I also love the illustrations, they are somewhat epic ))

The Coroner entered the dimly lit vault, closing the door behind him. A Tesla coil hung above a thick stone slab table, atop of which lay half a blackened body, completely severed at the waist, blackened remains of his clothes melted into his rough, knurled skin. What had probably once been a smooth Elvish face with long hair was now a battered shadow of its former glory, the nose completely removed, and one cheek scraped off from where it had struck the sewer wall. All that remained of his hair was burnt fragments, stubs protruding from his rough scalp, some strands severed from his scalp, but melted onto his face. He had been right next to the bomb when it detonated; his legs had never been found.

The Coroner, James Watson, was also the High Secretary’s Chief Aide, and a Testing Apothecary in the Royal Apothecary Society. His desire to heal was matched only by his sheer fascination of the working parts of the Humanoid body, of which he knew every inch of. Approaching the table he placed a Goblin recording device by the corner, turning it on. Next to it he placed a roll of leather, opening it out to display sixteen different scalpels, four tweezers, three syringes and a Bone saw. The kit also contained a Rib cutter, a hagedorn needle, a pair of scissors, a Skull chisel and an enterotome. Pulling the scissors from the kit, Watson cleared his throat and began.

“Subject male, Sin’doreai, estimated five foot eleven, about ten stone in weight. Middle aged, original hair colour unknown. Only half of body present at time of report, body severed between hip and lower vertebrae 31. Stomach and chest thin, subject suffered from malnutrition before death.”

Watson paused the report, pacing around the stone table as he examined the external characteristics of the body. Above him, the Tesla coil sparked into life, the orb glowing as it lit up with electricity, illuminating the room. With a cough, Watson continued.

“Remains of clothing show red and gold colours. Original design and make impossible to tell at this present moment. Obvious trauma has removed skin from left cheek, broken nose off, and caved in back of skull. Subject has been badly burnt, cause of death presumed to be a premature explosion. Front of skin burnt and melted, skin on back of body charred but still smooth.”

Placing the scissors under the front of the Corpses clothes, Watson cut them away, peeling them from the skin and placing them in a thick box lined with white cloth.

“I begin by making an incision with five millimetre scalpel from subject’s neck to pelvis, and attempting to remove burnt skin. Several locations of trauma along front of chest, skin burnt and roughened up. With skin removed the subject is shown to have seven broken ribs on his right hand side, and three on his left, and a collapsed lung on his right. Subject shown to have initially landed on the left side of his head after being thrown from the explosion, rolling onto right as chest made impact with ground. Impact caused right side of chest to cave, shattering three ribs on the opposite side. Removing ribs, the subject is shown to… Hold on… What’s that?”

Frowning, Watson placed the Rib cutters gently onto the table and peered into the body’s chest cavity for a better look. The skin, ribs, and lungs had been peeled back, revealing the heart still intact, and yet there was something severely wrong.”

“Subject… Subject is shown to have a bladed incisions already cut into heart, despite no obvious entrance wound for blade. Only explanation currently available is that the wound was made before the skin was healed, before the explosion happened. Subject was dead at time of explosion, so cause of death changed from the explosion, to murder.”

With a sigh, Watson rested his hands on the table and sighed. The High Secretary will be disappointed.

Robi pulled off her hood and smiled broadly as she shook her hair down.
"Well done all, right lets debrief"
Monty and Odenia smiled and nodded as they took their seats while Blayke merely smirked smugly as he noisily pulled out a chair.
"Smug arrogant git" thought Robi "But hey..tonight he deserves to be"

She turned to Monty and tried to keep her face straight.
"Monty..that thing with the finger..." she started.
Monty looked at her and laughed aloud
"I know..I crack myself up sometimes....finger up his nose..." he chortled highly amused at his own antics.
"Yes Monty I'm sure..but what if their investigators...?" began Robi again, struggling hard not to laugh.
As Blayke had been priming the explosive, Monty had taken the corpse he had been carrying finger and placed it in its own nostril. Why she didnt know but it amused Monty no end, he'd been chuckling to himself about it ever since.
She had to admit it had been funny but how he got the idea when everyone else was keyed and strung with adrenalin, waiting for Blaykes sixty second warning.
" What if the finger is still up his nose after the blast?" Robi tried to be stern but found herself giggling like a schoolgirl.
"Unlikely Commander" put in Blayke who was also smiling amused. "The explosion was designed to, shall we say disperse, the bodies, and placed to concentrate the result, its unlikely that the corpse will have a finger, let alone up its nose."
"I noticed blood Commander, quite a lot, but the corpses were a day old at least any blood left would have dried, I hope we didn't catch someone in the blast" Odenia reported.
Robi looked at the assembled shadows and smiled a touch sheepishly
"That would have been me..." she volunteered.

Three eyebrows raised and three heads turned to look at her.

"I realised that there would be no blood in the bodies and that fact may have been noticed, depending on whats left after the explosion, so...." she started. "..after Id moved the bodies from Eversong..."
"Yes Commander, how did you do that?" asked Blayke "I trust you were careful?"
Robi shot Blayke a look,which resulted in a faint smirking smile back.
"I had a little help...well trusted help, and I'll not incriminate anyone further, what you don't know can't hurt you" she replied.
The three nodded in response.
Probably Shayanan and his bully boys, thought Blayke, at least there Robi was assured of total discretion and protection.
"That doesn't explain the blood..." ventured Odenia again
Robi looked at Odenia and smiled almost to herself. She'd had a few misgivings about Odenia, didn't think she was up to the task of dealing with moral implications of their acts, however it seemed Odenia was made of sterner stuff and to put it bluntly Robi had been pleasantly surprised by the young druids efficiency and coolness. She would make a point later of sitting down with Odenia alone and having a talk with her, get to know more about the girl inside.

Monty too she thought, he was good, obeyed without question and carried every order through regardless, and with such a 'devil may care' attitude as the finger in the nose showed. She laughed out loud again at the image and all three looked at her as if she were mad.
She gave a slightly embarrassed smile and muttered "finger...nose..." before giggling again as Monty roared with laughter.
"Yes..anyway..." she composed herself and tried to look professional."After we had secreted the corpses, we went belf hunting, found a lone traveller and cut his throat, bled him out into some skins and dumped the body in plaguelands where the wildlife will take care of whats left."
Blayke nodded
"Took the blood to the corpses, left it in the skins under each tabard...." she explained looking at each in turn. "The strength of the blast will incinerate the skins so no worries there..."

"So what next?" asked Odenia.
Robi looked and caught the exchange of glances between Blayke and Odenia.
"Blaykes never sweet on Odenia...she looks nothing like him" Robi mused, smiling slightly, she couldnt imagine Blayke fancying anyone but himself.

"Next?" started Robi. "Oh me and Monty are going to discuss comms, you two just stay here and relax while you write me a report..."
"Er we are boss?" said Monty
"Yes Monty, we are..." winked Robi pulling him to his feet "In the inn..come on my treat"
"Oh well in that case Commander..I'm all yours..." he said as he rose and followed her out.

As the Commander and Monty left the room Odenia allowed a tiny laugh to escape. She'd been trying so hard to be focused and professional, but the finger gag Monty did just cracked the vainer. Sighing softly she relaxed into her chair and smiled to herself.

But then it came again, that niggling doubt, that itch that wouldn't subside. It had seemed almost every angle had been covered, yet Odenia still felt unsatisfied. She remembered how the two bodies smelt. Though barely dead for long the scent that death carries tainted the sickly smell of their poverty. Only a very keen nose would notice. Very keen considering she had carried the body on her back and an arm had fallen right down because her snout at the time. It was good that the Commander had thought ahead and supplied the blood though. She could only hope that what evidence was left was taken at face value and left at that.

Odenia had realised that she had been staring across the room as she pondered these thoughts and had catch a glimpse of Blayke looking at her from the corner of her eye. The potential dangers of planting the bodies fell into the back of her mind and a far more present danger jumped into her throat as she found herself smiling back at Blayke.

“I’m going to have to ask you to repeat yourself Watson.”

The High Secretary’s face was blank. Watson had pulled him out of bed, and he sat before the Coroner in his nightie, his expression impossible to read. There was no cigar in his mouth, and bags sat under his eyes. Watson knew he had reported the death of the two Terrorists to the Queen herself last night, but his eyes did not show the disappointment, or anger, or fear that Watson had expected. They were just… nothing.

“The two Sin’Doreai were not the Terrorists High Secretary.”

“And you are sure of this Watson?”

“Both have had dagger wounds identified that pre-date their death. Both wounds were not fatal, and both wounds had the skin healed over to hide them from casual observation. The wounds have been identified as being carried out with the same make of dagger, highly likely the same one.”

“And the Elves were identified as being members of Sin’Anindoth?”

“They were wearing clothes that have been identified as the colours of Sin’Anindoth sir.”

“So another suspect is disproved then. The terrorists are working hard to cover their tracks. Did we manage to recover any of the bomb?”

“No High Secretary. It was disintegrated in the blast, which wasn’t very large at all Sir.”

“Well then… Alright. Fetch me my clothes, I’m afraid I will have to disturb the Queen. She needs to be told of this development.”

“Yes High Secretary.”

“Once that’s done, I’m afraid I will have to task you with finding Champion Blightcaller. Ask him permission to change Dark Ranger Lemayas’ orders. She is still to investigate Sin’Anindoth, but she is also to try and track down the original source of these Bombs. Assign an Apothecary, to advice her.”

“At once High Secretary.”

“Then get some sleep Watson. You’ve had a long week.”

As Watson bowed and left the room, Churchill sighed and began pulling on his trousers. Removing his nightie he pulled on his shirt, bracers, waistcoat and bow tie, finally pulling on his Tailcoats and lighting a cigar. Puffing on the relaxing smoke, he sighed once more.

Then froze. Perhaps?

No, it would never work.

Well what’s the Harm in trying?

For the first time that morning, Churchill smiled. Maybe the Forsaken didn’t need to know that the Terrorists weren’t caught in the blast? It went against his Morals – but if the Forsaken didn’t know, then the real Terrorists wouldn’t know. And when people think they are safe, they get clumsy. And when villains get clumsy, they get caught.

With a smile, Churchill left to inform the queen and explain his plan to her, already formulating the speech in his head. Your move terrorists.

I look out across the darkening skies as I sit in my place of solitude in Eversong. I've two bottles of bourbon to help me stop thinking about things, but they remain unopened still. I want to forget how Dianthaa remains unconscious, I want to stop thinking on the worst that could happen. I want to remember Eirdra as she was, and not how she is now - I'd been to see her of course, even smuggled in a flask of bourbon - but even I could see that the severity of her injuries would be with her for a long time to come.

Then there is Serrar and Chey. I reach for the bottle and pull out the cork, taking a long drink, almost a third of the bottle already gone. When I heard Sin'Anindoth had claimed responsibility for the bombing, I had no choice but to tell the Mistress that the two wore the colours of that group. Thorns had been harmed, to not tell her would be breaking the oath I took. Deathmasters Squadron and LaSombra plus Fauxion were tasked with capturing the two, interrogating and then skinning alive. What was left of them was to be thrown into the sea. I shiver slightly as I recall how the Mistress fixed me with her stare and said;

"I will slit your throat myself if I find that you have had anything to do with the explosions".

And so followed thinly veiled threats and accusations from my brothers....the thanks I got condemning two of my closest friends to a slow and painful death. I take another long drink, willing it to take effect faster.

I saw Squad after the Mistress left, told him that I didn't think Serrar was involved in the explosions, it really wasn't his style and could leniency be shown....perhaps let them live after interrogating to find out the real culprits?

"....well, there are more than just them in the organisation I reckon... not sure they should be blamed, that's all" I add.

"Oh they will not be blamed" he replies, "they will be skinned alive"

"But what if innocent? They're friends of mine.", I'm aware I sound like I'm pleading and that Squadron will see that as a sign of weakness.

He pauses before he replies "...and friends outside thorns usually ends up well?"

I bite my tongue, Thorns are my family, I don't get to choose them.

"Look....I spoke to Serrar after the explosions, he said it wasn't him with the bombs"

"Well I guess we all should belive him then cus of your history with picking the best of friends."

The sarcasm in his voice is unmissable.

"...and if he truly is innocent you will have proven yourself to the Mistress by taking your friends life."

"I've proven that already by handing the information to the Mistress," I reply, unable to keep the edge of anger from my voice, "Only I knew Chey and Serrar were in Sin'Anindoth. They kept it secret from others."

Only i was able to betray them... I take another long swig, I want to forget, even just for one night. All I knew was that they were a part of Sin'Anindoth, and that was weeks ago. We never talked of what they did, I never saw them in the colours of the organisation, no idea if they were even still active within the group at the day of the bombings. The day that was their wedding day. Chey looked beautiful, I remember feeling happy for Serrar, thinking how lucky he was. I also remember seeing Robi...I reach for the bottle, almost knocking it over and managing to spill a little. Cursing under my breath I finish it and throw the empty bottle into the sea.

I can't fix this. The wheels I've set in motion won't stop until all of Sin'Anindoth are dead. I reach for the second bottle and take another long swig. I smile bitterly, Uncle Valrik would be so pleased to know that I've single-handedly caused the eradication of a group of sin'dorei that don't hang on the every word of our Regent Lord.

"Well thats that job jobbed..." thought Robi as she made her way down from The Scryers tier in Shattrath City towards the flight master. "Quick detour to Honor Hold then home..."
She ambled with no great urgency, enjoying the peace and quiet that abounded in the city these days.
As she neared the flightmaster a familiar figure caught her eye, standing still and for all the world looking uncharacteristically small and a little lost.
"Arli..." she whispered and walked across towards him.
He didn't appear to see her at first so she elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Lo there stranger..."
It was a good few seconds before he turned to face her and her smile faded.
"Oh..hey..sorry..didn't see you there..." he said flatly.
Robi cocked her head and raised her eyebrow as she fixed a smile.
"How you doing then?" she asked "You look bloody awful..."
A small smile stole across his lips.
"Thanks..." he replied and lowered his head.
She studied him for a moment, a slight frown puckering her brow.
"Whats up Arli?" she said reaching out her hand and squeezing his arm.
He looked up slowly and Robi was shocked as she looked into his eyes. The usually sparkling, cheeky green eyes were flat and almost lifeless but deep within them she saw raw emotion, worry and hurt.
She squeezed his arm gently.
"Tell me..." she said softly
He shook his head.
"Nothing to tell...."
"Oh come on" she said with a very small laugh "This is me Arli...Robi, not a fellow thorn..not a spy...just Robi..."
He looked at her silently for a moment, she could see his mind working.
"Not here..." he said finally
She nodded. Poor Arli she thought, this is bad for him. She hated to see him so beaten.
"Up in the hills just beyond the outer tier wall, follow me" she said.

Sitting high up looking down on the city below she turned and looked at him, she didnt say anything just nodded once inviting him to talk.

"Dia is hurt...she wont wake up..." he spoke falteringly. "You heard about the bombs in Undercity?"
Robi nodded.
"She was knocked out in a blast..." his voice tailed away
Robi moved closer and wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head on her shoulder.
"Oh Arli I'm sorry..but you know its often natures way..shutting the body down so it can heal itself" she tried to sound comforting "I'm sure she'll be ok..she's a fighter"
Arli nodded and glanced up at her.
"You should go to her, hold her hand, Stroke her face and whisper to her..."wake up Robi..." she added lightly "That'll bring her round"
Arli laughed lightly and nodded.
"She'd wake up just to punch me...and anyway she won't die in case I start to enjoy myself again"
Robi laughed and squeezed him lightly.
Arli sighed.
"Ive also betrayed the two closest friends I had, sentenced them to a long slow painful death" he said, his voice filled with sorrow.
"Tell me..." she said, in her heart knowing what he was going to say.
He explained how he had told Anethrax that Serrar and Chey had been members of Sin'Anindoth.
"I had to..I had no choice..thorns were hurt, if Id said nothing I would have broken the oath..."
She thought for all the world he sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than her.
"Im sure they'd understand that..." Robi started realising it sounded feeble in the circumstances. "They'll know that Thorns to you is like Silvermoon to them..and you do what you have to for love and loyalty, often Arli, politics can drive a wedge between the deepest of friends."
"I can't warn them..." he almost cried "Ive said I dont believe they did the bombing..but Thorns just don't care...but I can't warn them..."
Robi stroked his hair, he was distressed possibly more about this than Dia.
"But I can..." Robi found herself saying.
Without giving any of her involvement away she explained she would get a message to Chey and warn her of Thorns capture and kill on them.
"You can do that...?" he asked
She looked at him and smiled
"Trust me..."
"Tell them I'm so sorry..that I had no choice..." he added
"I will..."
Arli looked up at her and smiled, a natural easier smile.
"Theres no use fretting over what youve done, it won't undo it, as my dad always said 'Robi, its not the choices you make thats important, it's what you make of your choices' and he was right. you can't live by if only..." she said still stroking his hair "Whats done is done...get over it, we'll do what we can to minimise the damage"
"How?" he asked
She laughed and winked.
"Leave that to me, what you don't know you can't tell the Mistress..." she laughed.

They sat in silence for a while and she felt Arli relax beside her. They fell into natural conversation, asking what they'd been up to and the like.
"We should go fishing again..." said Arli "If you don't cheat that is"
She slapped his head lightly
"Me?..you cheated.."
"No way..."
"Yes way..."
They both laughed aloud as an earlier similar conversation came into their minds.
"Next time we have a fish fight" laughed Arli "You run with me..."
Robi laughed with him, their eyes met and they exchanged a knowing look. Robi nodded.
"Next time...we run" she echoed.
"Lets meet again sometime?" Arli ventured
"I'd like that"
"Not Westfall.."
She shook her head.
"We don't tell anyone, not Dia..." he started
"No...not Thorns either..." Robi added
"And Shay?" Arli asked with a shiver "He made his views clear..."
"No not Shay" Robi laughed warmly at the look of trepidation in Arlis eyes.
Arli looked relieved and nodded.
"We'll make it soon..I'll find you" he said
Again she nodded and smiled. It didn't hurt to believe it would happen, that they would meet again as friends without interference. Their history of lies, betrayal and treachery went way too deep, Thorns would find out, Arli was too eager and desperate to prove himself a Thorn to ever withhold something from them. Anethrax was a vindictive excuse for a being, always seemed to be exerting authority just because she could, and it seemed to her that Arli was always the scapegoat, the easy way for Anethrax to boost her ego or whatever it was forsaken women had.

"I have to go..Mistress is on coms..." Arli sounded disappointed as he rose.
"Best not keep her then..." Robi answered as she too clambered to her feet.
"Thank you Robi..." Arli started
Robi put her finger to his lips. "No need...you know what they say..'a friend in need is a bloody pain in the ass'. just remember what I said..."
Arli embraced her and hugged her tightly which she returned. Then as they released each other she fondly stroked his cheek.
"Stay strong Arli..." she said softly
He nodded and she was relieved to see he looked a lot better than when they had sat down. She smiled up
"Shadows protect" he said and after another brief but tight hug he mounted his windrider and soared out of view.
She watched the fading speck disappear.

"Blayke? We need a meeting...soon as, we have two to bring in from the cold...."

Blayke finished the final scroll and as with the others, reread it to ensure it was accurate;





With a satisfied nod he rolled it up and as with the others all written exactly the same, added a blue wax seal marked with a cross with each scroll addressed to a Deathmaster of the Vile Thorn, with the final one marked for Anethrax herself. Carefully placing them into a small pack, he slung it across his chest and with a cursory goodbye to the Housekeeper, Betty, headed out of Stormwind and on towards Booty Bay. He knew if he mailed them from there, they would reach the intended recipients. Besides, he had an event to attend that evening that was hosted by the Wardens of Azeroth and the Commander had made it clear he was to attend.....and damned well look like he was enjoying it. He’d better get a trip at the Barbers before he headed home, his Tuxedo was already hanging cleaned and pressed by Betty, who said gleefully that “...he would look right dapper in it..”. Blayke sighed heavily as he swung his Gryphon around and headed south.

With comms off, Arli clambered over the rooftops in Stormwind - under the cover of darkness it was unlikely that the flying patrols would see him - only dropping to street level when he was almost above the Inn itself.

The Inn in Old Town was unusually quiet and he'd been disappointed, in more ways than one, to not find who he was looking for. Sitting in the basement with a bloodthistle smoke, he re-read the now crumpled letter that he had received earlier in the day. It wasn’t written by Robi’s hand, that was easy to see, and surely she knew better than to threaten the Mistress? Arli needed to find her, see if she knew of the letters and ask her just what she thought she was playing at. So, where else would Robi be? The Slaughtered lamb was a possibility of course but that was where The Dead Rose were likely to be and he had no desire at all to bump into any of them. But, he had travelled all this way, he may as well go and look, all that waited for him was a cold floor in the Thorn base in Undercity anyway. Stubbing out his smoke, he slipped back to the shadows and carefully made his way across the city.

Oddly, the Slaughtered lamb was also unusually quiet and a quick scout of the catacombs found no one, well as quick a scout he could do when watching every flickering shadow for the outline of Shay or Darién. Back outside, Arli crouched in the shadows and watched Officer Pomeroy pass close by on a patrol, he was one of the more highly trained officers that could interpret the subtle changes in the shadows that showed someone was hidden there - he had to keep his distance else face a tough fight with most likely, more guards coming to their superior officer’s aid.

Resigned to having to return another night, Arli made his way towards the Mage Tower, well, it was always good to finish an evening at the Mage Tower, chance to catch an unwary traveller and the tower deadened any scream that might escape their lips, making it safer from passing guards.

As Arli started up the tower ramp he paused at hearing the sounds of a party coming from the nearby Inn. He felt a twinge of jealousy, or maybe it was regret - he was young and should be out partying every night at this time of year, not spending his evening following orders, scouting enemy lands and then returning to a restless night’s sleep on the cold floor in the Thorn base now in Undercity. He couldn’t remember when he last got an invite to a party, Thorns were rarely welcome at any social gathering. Like a moth to a flame, Arli found himself drawn to the sounds of music and laughter and dropping down from the ramp, he silently made his way across to the Inn.

Crouching in the shadows, close to the entrance, Arli watched the partygoers at the very busy Inn. There was music, and evidently a lot of drink, judging by the way the human dressed in purple was swaying slightly as he grinned at the girl in the revealing red dress next to him. Then again...he looked like a pimp and maybe she was one of his girls? Arli looked across the busy inn, and there she was....in a fitted black dress that showed her curves, laughing and smiling with the small group she stood with. Arli crouched in the dusty corner, transfixed, and found himself returning her smile even though he knew she had no idea he was even there. Maybe he’d hang around after all, wait until the party ended and she left, catch her attention and...yes..yes he should, it was real important he talked to her about that letter after all. Another entering the Inn from the other side of the entrance caught his eye and Arli froze at the sight of the hooded male who walked in, pausing and nodding at Robi as she waved, before heading to the stairs – the crowds silently parting before him. Arli watched as he walked up the stairs, and stood on the balcony, looking down on the party. Arli shuddered slightly...Shay. He looked back at Robi, it was clear she was very happy to see him and clear to Arli that she wouldn’t be leaving alone. Arli glanced around to the shadows nervously - there was a fair chance Darién would be near after all – then with a heavy heart, he turned and left the Inn. He’d go and see how Dia was, stay as long as the forsaken would allow before being ushered firmly out and then head back to Undercity and try and get a few hours sleep.

Halduron Brightwing pressed his fingertips together as he looked from Serrar to Chey standing before him.
Chey forced a smile while Serrar stood stock-still and erect.
"I have received a report from Undercity" he began "It tells me the terrorists, their words not mine, blew themselves up planting more explosives, it would appear that you two have been vindicated"
Serrar and Chey exchanged a brief glance as they both heaved sighs of relief.
"In light of this"Halduron continued, smiling slightly at their obvious relief, "Youre both relieved of the curfew and are no longer suspects"
"Oh Thank you. thank you Sir..." Chey gushed, her face pale. "You don't know how relieved we are, it's been horrible..just horrible...." she allowed a tear to trickle down her cheek.
"Are we allowed to know any more?" asked Serrar
Halduron turned his gaze from Chey to Serrar and shook his head.
"It's not relevant Serrar, just be glad this report holds the two corpses as the perpetrators"
Serrar nodded "Of course Sir"
"Now that we're no longer suspects, Anethrax and her Vile Thorns should call off their death threats..." Chey added in a hopeful voice.
Halduron looked back at her showing surprise. He raised an eyebrow and asked her to elucidate.
Chey explained briefly that she and Serrar had been warned by someone outside of the Thorns, that their lives were in danger as Anethrax somehow found out that she and Serrar were suspects, and had issued orders for them to be captured and skinned alive.
"Hold it right there...." said Halduron angrily "She what?"
Chey reiterated what Robi had told them.
"Rest assured Serrar and Chey, you are under Silvermoon protection, that forsaken woman and her lackies will not be welcome here without being under close scrutiny from the guards and guardians" he said decisively "You so much as see a red mask in this city and you head for the nearest guards, even if that be me, I will not tolerate that woman's inflated opinion of her Vile Brood dictating the lives of Sin'Dorei..."
Chey looked surprised at the regents vehemence and cast a look at Serrar who smiled reassuringly at her.
"Those that enter our city are then subject to our laws and retribution, however with your vindication I would expect her to rescind the threat and Im sure this is what she will do"
Halduron looked from one to the other again and composing himself offered them a smile.

"Again thank you Sir" Serrar said with a small bow.
"Yes thank you Lord Regent" said Chey as she bowed her head but continued to look at Halduron.
The regent coughed slightly and nodded.
"Dismissed.." he said
Serrar and Chey turned and walked to the heavy oak doors lightly taking each others hand as they reached it. Serrar pulled the gold handle.
"Sun guide you Serrar and Chey" said Halduron, adding with a smile "towards a new dawn...."

Odenia hammered the final nail into the box and nodded to herself with satisfaction. Took a couple of days to get everything, but it was all ready to go now. She had needed to be carefully and source everything from different shops and craftsmen to ensure no suspicions were raised. It had all started out as a way to get out of the Winter Veil party.

Odenia didn't like socialising at the best of times, let alone spending any time with Blayke outside of a professional basis. After their mission to the Undercity she had felt her guard slip a bit and needed to put some distance between them again. There was no doubt that the Commander would be annoyed that she failed to attend, so needed an excuse that not only got her out of the party but also made her look good. It hadn't taken very long for her to come up with the perfect solution. Odenia had never been fully happy about helping out the belfs and she was pretty sure the Commander sensed this. What she needed to do was pander to this idea of support and get into the Commander's good books. Although the mission in Undercity seemed to go well there was still the possibility that Chey and Serrar would have to go on the run and hideout. If this were to happen then they would be in need of supplies... and Odenia would be the one who thought ahead.

The food stuffs and the bottles were the easiest to come by. She had made her own bandages which meant she could avoid visiting the Cathedral and included a few medicinal potions she picked up in the market. The daggers were a little tougher as they could be traced back to the crafter and then potentially back to her. She made the decision to travel to Ironforge to obtain a pair for both of them. They didn't know her there and she made sure her face was not seen and no questions were asked with a generous donation to the Dwarf who supplied them. Odenia had been pleased with the result and had a twinge of envy as she had wrapped them up and carefully placed them in the box. She had no skills when it came to weapons, but she appreciated the beauty they possessed. Finally she had gathered a selection of blankets and coloured fabrics, including two plain black tabards. The Commander had spoken of taking the two belfs in more than just protecting them. They would be our Shadows within the Horde and would therefore carry a new crest... well, they wouldn't dare wear their old one now anyway would they? It was too risky to commission the tabard fully made in case it was identified, so just had to make do with the raw materials so that they could be crafted later.

It had gone to plan. The Commander was unable to have a go at her due to her commitment to the Brotherhood and avoided raising any suspicion that she was avoiding Blayke. Still, she did feel she missed out on a fun night and found herself staring at the dress she had laid out just in case she changed her mind. With a soft and longing sigh Odenia picked up the box and prepared herself to deliver the box made of false intentions.