The woman watched as the tall elf paced back and forth along the length of the camp, she didn't even laugh when she tripped over one of the pikes that held the tents in place, having long since been used to it as it had been happening for the past week or so. The adventurer had been pacing the entirety of the small camp for probably close to a week, the pacing didn't start until a day after she got to the refuge and it hasn't stopped yet. The elf had a surprising amount of energy.

The human woman sighed and stood from her perch on the log that was being used as a makeshift chair. She'd been contemplating whether or not to talk to the obviously worried elf since she got there, but the elf had made no contact with anyone and had blatantly refused any form of contact from anyone. But like hell she was going to watch this pathetic display go on any longer, the poor girl looked exhausted, not to mention she's consumed very little since she's arrived.

Eflea continued following the rut she created, the set path giving her a miniscule sense of satisfaction and a small relief from the worrisome thoughts that keep pouring into her head by the dozen. Questions echoed around in her head, things like "Is she okay?" "Where is she?" "Did she leave without me? She always did hate taking people places..." The oncoming presence of the human mage was known yet not acknowledged in the least, Eflea too busy trying to come up with rational thoughts on the whereabouts of her sister.

"Hey." The human said softly. Her attempts to drive the elf out of her reverie were fruitless however which only caused her features to harden. "Hey." She tried again with a sharper edge to her voice.

Eflea stopped and turned to look at her, an expression of hopelessness marring her beautiful face. The moment their eyes locked the human was almost positive the elf was gonna break down into tears right then and there.

"She's not here, why is she not here? You're a mage, you're smart. Do you know what happened to her? Where'd she go?!" Eflea broke into hysterics, millions of questions that the human could never hope to answer flew out of her lips a million miles a second.

"Woah, woah. Keep your voice down." She put a hand on the elves shoulder, "Start from the beginning, tell me what happened."

Eflea sat on the ground, her arms flopped uselessly on her lap as her head looked downward. The human followed her lead in a more dignified way and listened attentively as the heartbroken huntress recounted her tale.

Nylilaeth stared up at the masked faces above her with an air of calmness that somehow surprised her. The faces stared at her with curiosity shining in their exposed eyes, the rest of their faces being covered in a cloth mask and hood. They retreated as soon as they saw her eyes open and whispered to each other animatedly all the while staring straight at her.

Nylilaeth sat up, ignoring the intense ache that sprouted from -well, everywhere! She shook her head from side to side rapidly, trying to quell the intense ache that started up.

She felt... weird. She stood, following the command issued by no one and walked around the pit that housed quite a few shackled up residents. Her instincts told her to run though her body kept moving towards the large man standing on the balcony overlooking what appeared to be a village.

The man turned to her, chilling blue eyes only shown by the glow emanating from the small openings in his helmet. Nylilaeth felt a spike of fear and excitement all at once.

Run.

Forward, keep moving.

Stop walking, turn around.

Obey me.

You're sealing your fate!

Your fate has already been sealed.

All at once it seemed an anvil dropped onto her as she stood and looked up at the man, it forced her to her knees and silenced her instincts altogether. Her mind turned blank and she lost every thought she's had up until this moment.

Her head tilted as she stared up at the man, a blue haze taking over her vision.

"Mommy?"

"I have a few... errands I need you to run for me." He spoke down to her, his voice sending beautiful pricks of ice all over her body.

Her expression turned giddy, "Whatever you wish, momma!"

"Since you're so fantastically..." The necromancer glanced at Nylilaeth, who was standing there with a dumb grin on her face, "... Special, you've been assigned a partner to keep track – I mean help you."

Nylilaeth giggled, "I'm special..." She muttered under her breath.

The necromancer brought a man with barely any skin on him over to her, "This is Tom, this is his second time dying, don't kill him again."

"Hi, Tom!"

"Hello, elf."

"Now leave." The necromancer shoved them towards the gryphons that would fly them to the ground and then left them to their devices.

Nylilaeth turned to her new companion as she jogged towards the dead beasts, "So, Tom, dead twice, eh?" She elbowed his side, "How'd you die the other times?"

"First time I died I got stabbed," He covered his heart with his right hand, "right here. Second time, I read too much and-"

"You can die from reading?!"

"Depends on the circumstances, and what you read, and of course what that information is worth to other people, but yes, I suppose you can. And you died how?"

Nylilaeth shrugged and stopped in front of one of the dead flying creatures, "I think I got bit or something, my shoulder is all stitched up," She leaned towards him and whispered conspiratorially, "and I don't think it's my flesh."

Tom sighed, "That happens." He lifted his left foot revealing a poorly stitched-up foot. He wiggled his toes. "Not my toes, ripped 'em off one of the poor soldiers feet down there." He sighed wistfully, "That was a good day."

Nylilaeth's eyes sparkled, the prospect of ripping limbs and phalanges off excited her and she was suddenly a lot more eager to carry out her tasks.

The skeletal gryphon was uncomfortable underneath her, the bony animal providing no comfort at all. Not to mention the fact you could fall off so easily! Honestly, if one didn't have good balance they'd find that their skulls do in fact make a really cool noise when they hit the ground. Well – they'd know for maybe a split second before they die, but you know how it is.

The ride was thankfully short. Nylilaeth quickly pulled the uncomfortable plate skirt – kilt, Tom kept calling it, it's a kilt he doesn't wear skirts, he's says, fuck you, Tom it's a skirt – from it's place nestled between her ass cheeks.

Tom was standing and waiting for her. He made a grating noise when she got close and motioned towards her head, he reached behind him and pulled an invisible thing over his head. The motion was repeated and didn't stop and didn't appear to be stopping til Nylilaeth figured it out.

Nylilaeth squinted her eyes at him. Charades? Cool, okay, she can do this game. She thinks she knows she's good at it. She goes through all the possibilities of what he could be gesturing until she comes up with the one, the answer she knows is right.

"Wooly mammoth! That's what it is!" She clapped her hands together once in triumph and celebrated her victory with a pelvic thrust motion.

Tom sighed, his hooded face expressing so much disappointment. "Please, just pull your hood up."

"Okay." She did as told and yanked her hood up, pieces of her bright pink hair flopped around her head and poked out of the hood opening messily.

Lord help me, Tom thought as they both pressed forward.

"It's just up here." Eflea whispered to the mage next to her who she learned was actually called Rosalya not too long ago.

They came to the clearing that Eflea had last seen her sister in. Eflea wasn't surprised in the least when her eyes landed on the bodies of two disfigured scourge, what befuddled her was the fact that some of her sister's most prized possessions were lying there unattended. A new worry blossomed in her stomach and it pushed bile up her throat which she quickly swallowed back down with a grimace.

Rosalya inspected the weapons and shoulder armor daintily, she hesitated to ask.

"These your sister's?"

"Yea..."

"Any chance she's one of those people that suddenly dislikes her armor?"

"No... She's had that armor for 57 years, the weapons she made herself. But I mean, she would leave them here right? There's gotta be a reason! She's probably messing with me, she's pretended to be dead before!"

Rosalya inspected the patches of dry blood and small chunks of purple flesh surrounding the area. The blood trail went towards Acherus. Rosalya had a distant thought wondering if Eflea liked her sister mix and matched or whole but pushed that thought away.

"I wouldn't say so."

Eflea remained quiet, her face impassive.

"Blood trail heads towards the no-no area, there was a chunk of flesh over here. Doesn't look like she waddled over there willingly."

Rosalya watched apathetically as Eflea collected her sister's armor and weapons, she almost felt something akin to sympathy when the elf held the items in a way that signified that she wouldn't be letting them leave her sight anytime soon.

"Let's go and get your stuff, I'm making you a portal back to Darnassus."

Eflea followed wordlessly the entire way.

Nylilaeth plucked arrow after arrow off the ground as Tom killed all the pretty puppies frolicking in the pretty little field they were in. For some reason those skeletal archers really liked shooting this field, it was like an arrow mine! She hit the arrow jackpot, she is the collector. That's her new name, she decided, Nylilaeth the Collector, Collector Extraordinaire, You Need It She Collects It, With the Help of Tom but Don't Tell Him 'Cause He'll Get a Big Head. That's it, her full name.

"Stop picking daisies, lil' girl!" Tom yelled at her.

For some reason being called lil really pissed her off. She shrugged away the feeling, it was a part of her name, she thought.

"I got it!"

"Good, let's leave. These dogs stole my arm." He wiggled his left arm – well, stub.

"We can rip one off the bodies on our way back."

"That's the plan."

"Here's the plan, stay away from Stable Master Kitrik, take a horse, leave. Got it?" Tom recounted the plan one more time as they lay on their stomachs on the hill overlooking the stables.

Nylilaeth nods, "Got it, plan is a go." She rolled down the hill on her side, much like a child would do at a park.

"I didn't say go..." Tom quickly followed, but instead of rolling down like a toddler he chose to just jump down. Screw breaking bones, if he died he'd be revived again.

Tom hurried towards the closest horse and quickly mounted. The horse startled as he climbed aboard, attracting the attention of nearby guards who hopped into action with no thought.

"Go, go, go!" Nylilaeth shouted behind him.

Tom didn't have to be told twice, he bolted out of there quicker than a really fast dog probably. He glanced behind him to see Nylilaeth on the smallest fucking pony he's ever seen being chased by the one guy he told her to avoid.

"Why'd you get the one that attracted the attention of the Stable Master?! You can barely fit on it!"

"You don't own me!" Her pony quickened, it's bite-sized legs getting sent into over-drive as it sped off in front of him.

He watched in anger and awe as it's little legs moved. He felt a spike of jealousy. Fuck little horses, he thought.