After their effortless victory, Gortha and Darkhin were teleported back to the Undercity. The battlemaster gave his praise to them and they headed into the center ring of the underground haven.
"That was a good battle." Gortha sighed with satisfaction.
"Good, yet strange." Her undead companion commented.
"Strange?"
Darkhin's eyes darted to match Gortha's, pondering if he should tell her about the peculiar night elf. "Strange because I haven't done it in so long I guess."
The orc's brow rose slightly. She could tell he was hiding something, but thought it best to leave a retiring hero to his thoughts.
They parted ways for the night and Darkhin headed back towards Brill, where his small home stood waiting for his return. He bought it for a decent price. It wasn't in an extremely populated area, but Darkhin liked that. While he loved people admiring him, he also loved his privacy once in a while. It was a one bedroom cabin, with a small kitchen that he barely used and a moderate living area where he kept his desk for writing his memoirs. He entered his abode and began stripping his heavy armor and placing it in order on a faceless wooden mannequin in the corner of his living space. He pulled his white linen shirt off and tossed it over a chair. In nothing but his knee-high breeches, he trudged to his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. His thought immediately drifted to the night elf. Since he was in the safety of his home, he was able to let his mind wander. He could admit now, without restriction, that she was beautiful. He had fought night elf girls in battle before, but this one was different. Perhaps because she spoke to him like a person, rather than an enemy? He remembered distinctly her royal purple hair that flowed down her back like a cascading, colored waterfall. Her face was round and her features were smooth. She had the brilliant glowing white eyes of the night elf race, along with strange markings that outlined those eyes and trailed down her cheeks like dark tears of joy. Her body was clad in tight-fitting druidic armor. The leather encased her voluptuous curves, increasing her overall attractiveness. She was taller than Darkhin, maybe by a few inches. Elves were always one of the tallest races on Azeroth. That made Darkhin think about how her legs went on for miles. He had to let himself doze off before he began thinking about other, more discreet parts of her body.
Darkhin woke sprawled across his bed and he stretched languidly, letting his exposed bones crack. Light peeked in through the window. The sunlight in Tirisfal Glades was always dull so Darkhin made no attempt to guess what time it was. He slid out of bed, leaving it as a blob of sheets and pillows. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and came into his living area, reaching for his shirt. At first he thought that his tired vision caused him to see something inexplicable. He blinked furiously to clear his blurred sight. The more he focused on the wooden mannequin, the more panicked he became. His armor and weapons were missing. He threw on his shirt and dashed outside. His skeletal horse that was usually stabled in the yard was gone. He ran back in and found his backpack. When he reached in he found only a few copper coins and a slice of bread.
His throat tightened and he left the house. With bare feet and a vicious glare, he stormed towards the Undercity. He caught sight of the three Forsaken girls that titled themselves 'the Darkhin Sinsword fan club', but they didn't seem to notice him without any of his armor. This only angered him further. He ventured into the belly of the underground city and found Gortha poking around the auction house.
Darkhin pulled her arm and she spun around to face him. "Something has happened!" He hissed.
"What's up?" She asked with a hint of worry in her tone.
"My armor, my weapons, my horse… everything's been stolen!"
"Stolen?" Gortha cocked her head curiously. "That's impossible; it should be soulbound to you."
"My thoughts exactly, but it's all gone!" Darkhin's head dropped in despair.
"I think I've heard of something like this before." The orc tapped her chin with her index finger. "Some younger adventurers call it being 'hacked'. Supposedly, from what I heard, these thieves usually work for a larger group. They steal a person's armor, weapons, money, anything with value. Then they sell it to a vendor, the only thing you can do with soulbound items. That person gets the money for personal gain, while the items get circulated back to the larger group, somehow getting their soulbound enchantment removed in the process."
"How do you know all this?"
"I used to sell my elixirs and herbs to merchants. Those merchants used to share their stories with me."
"So how can I get my armor back?" He pleaded for an answer.
Gortha shrugged hopelessly. "Trace its whereabouts somehow. I know there's a vendor in the rogue's quarter that buys soulbound items."
"It's a start." Darkhin sighed. "I'll speak to you another time; I have to find my armor."
Darkhin soon found himself in the rogue's quarter. He found the vendor that Gortha spoke of. He was a greasy-looking Forsaken.
"What can I do for you?" He slurred, not really meaning the words.
"Have you bought some soulbound armor recently?" Darkhin glared at him.
"I buy soulbound armor all the time."
"These items were very special. Onslaught armor, Glaives of Azzinoth, a well bred skeletal horse…"
The vendor cut him off. "Actually, someone did bring me a bundle like that late last night."
"Who was it?! Where are the items?!" Darkhin's fists dug into the rickety table used for the vendor's ill business.
"It was some troll. He sold the items to me and I sent the things to Varne Ironlager." The vendor blurted out, now being pressured with questions.
"Varne Ironlager?"
"He buys all my soulbound items for a really good price. Rumor has it that he can remove the binding enchantment. I suppose it's true because if the enchant isn't removed after twenty four hours of being separated from its owner, the bound items would return."
Darkhin bit his lower lip, fearing where his next question would lead him. "Where is Varne Ironlager?"
To be continued…