While his guild knew him as Lash Hellsblood, the truth of the matter was that that wasn't actually his last name. As with orcish traditions, last names were not shared based on family, but rather they were earned through proving oneself in battle or through other equally honorable means. If one's ancestor did something great enough, after their passing, a child might take on their parent's last name to honor the memory—such as what Garrosh Hellscream had done—but there were never really any two orcs with the same last name at any given time.

Well, that had been the way of things. The orcs of the Horde had begun to allow their culture to intermingle with that of the trolls and tauren, and there were a few families who had taken to giving their children their last names.

Lash was not in such a family.

Really, the only reason that anyone thought his last name to be Hellsblood was because of a misunderstanding when Haa'aji had first met Gore's family. Haa'aji hadn't understood orcish culture and had assumed that the surname was shared.

Lash wanted to make a name for himself. Literally. But it was harder than one might think. He would need proof of his actions to secure a name, and that meant he couldn't use any of his raiding achievements. Well, not without trying to claim he was in Anonymous, and he doubted that would go over well.

Many people simply saw him as Gorgon Hellsblood's nephew. Not a brave hunter who had traversed the reaches of Kalimdor and beyond, aiding the different establishments of the Horde. By the ancestors, even his guild viewed him as a child to a certain extent. While they were happy to have him along for raids, they always teased him as they did Mitchell or Ta'lim. It was like the trio couldn't catch a break. As though everyone's predisposition was to coddle them.

Lash had defeated his fair share of enemies, but none of that mattered. He wanted people to salute him with respect, nod at him when he passed on the streets in appreciation of the good that he'd done.

That was the real reason he hadn't tried to win anyone's heart yet. While yes, it did seem moronic at best to start a family with the Lich King bearing down on them from the north, he wanted whoever he might take to his bed to see him as strong and capable, not just some peon who promised to keep food on the table.

He had been too ashamed to speak with Gore or Sham about it, and when he'd tried to bring it up to Mitchell and Ta'lim, the culture gap had become obvious, as neither quite seemed to get what he was saying. Then again, Mitchell had been rather preoccupied with returning to Undercity to work on some new project that he had whispered would make Margaret happy, and Ta'lim had had deliveries to run.

That's when it had hit Lash. He was alone. The reason that neither Mitchell nor Ta'lim seemed overly bothered by the way everyone treated them like children was because they knew they weren't. Mitchell was an official apothecary, and Ta'lim was a courier. They had jobs—albeit not as glamorous as being a war hero—and they were content.

When Gore had asked Lash to give he and his wife some time to themselves, Lash had abruptly been struck with the notion that he was in the way. And that had led to horror. He really was a child, still.

The more that thought ate at him, the less content he was to stay a guest at Liila's house, even with Ta'lim there. And so he'd taken Duskeh with him back to Gore's place, gathered his things, and headed toward the message boards to see where he might win honor.

The most obvious would be to assault an Alliance post that was too close to Horde territory, but then, the guild frowned on that. Not the guild, really. Gregor. Most of the members of Impervious stayed their blades when they saw the other faction only because Gregor had been so adamant that they not harm anyone. The unspoken truth was that Gregor had heard rumors that both his daughter and son had taken to the field of battle for the Alliance, and as much as he loved his guild mates, he would have to kill anyone who harmed—much less killed—one of his children.

If anything ever happened to Gregor, Lash didn't doubt that Impervious would become a war guild.

However, so long as Gregor walked the earth, battling on the warfronts was out, unless Lash wanted to find himself a new guild. And with the recent whispers that Gore hadn't done his job as a defender of Orgrimmar in light of the ghoul attack, Lash couldn't very well leave the guild without marring his uncle's reputation further.

Lash hadn't seen anything particularly worthwhile on the message boards—in fact, even the warfronts were somewhat quiet as both factions prepared their assaults on Northrend—and so he'd wandered the town, thinking that perhaps he'd see one of Haa'aji's shady connections and hit them up for any tasks that might need to be accomplished.

It wasn't until he found himself in front of the smithy that Lash realized he was wandering aimlessly. It was right about then that Lash saw Howl, speaking and laughing with his former apprentices. Another guild mate who had a firm and respected place in society…

Before his feet could take him elsewhere, Howl noticed him and waved him over.

Lash obediently wandered to them and listened in on the conversation, smiling and laughing at the appropriate moments, but thinking all the while that he was out of place. After all, all of the orcs present had names of their own.

When Howl excused himself from the conversation to tend to a few tasks he needed to take care of, Lash accompanied him almost mindlessly, and a small part of him whispered that he was indeed meant to be a peon. The two orcs walked along in silence for a good way before Howl finally appraised the dejected looking hunter.

"Going somewhere?"

Lash blinked. And looked down to see that he was in his armor, and both his mount and Duskeh were still plodding along beside him, stopping every now and then to eye a random hawkstrider as the few sin'dorei in Orgrimmar rode along on errands of their own. He finally shrugged. "Was thinking of it."

Howl eyed him for a second, and Lash could see the gears turning carefully in his head. At length, he smiled. "If you don't have anywhere particular in mind, I don't suppose you'd be interested in going to Rachet for me?"

Lash raised an eyebrow.

"I have a message I would like delivered…sooner than later." He paused, glancing around as though he knew something that he couldn't disclose. "There's rumors that something's about to happen here, and I'd like to stay in town for it, but that means that my personal affairs have to be pushed back."

Narrowing his eyes, Lash stopped in his tracks. As Howl slowed to stop a few feet ahead and turned to face him, Lash crossed his arms. "You want me to take a personal message down to Rachet? What is it?"

Howl gave him a half smile, his grin laced with boyish enthusiasm. "It's better that you don't know the details, but to answer your first question, yes." He'd glanced around as though to make sure the shadows weren't eavesdropping. "Now, I'd be willing to part with some coin if you'll deliver it—that is if you don't have anything else to do." As Lash considered it, Howl's smile slipped, and he'd added. "But you can't tell anyone about this. Not Gore, not Sham, not Ta'lim. No one. Honestly, if you go, just tell people you went to Ashenvale or something."

For a moment, Lash was ready to tell him that it sounded a bit too sketchy for his liking, like it was something more geared toward Haa'aji's skill set. However, there was an earnest, hopeful light in Howl's face…as though by merely mentioning the letter at all, he'd pulled Lash into his confidence. Lash finally shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. "I'll deliver it for you."

Howl almost immediately tried to make himself look professional, though that giddy light still glinted in his eyes. He reached into his shirt pocket and produced a thin envelope. It was blank, and Lash paused, frowning as he wondered who—other than their guild—might receive such a thing.

Taking out his coin purse, Howl pulled three gold coins out and offered them to Lash. When the hunter tried to deny the money, Howl shook his head, his half grin returning. "I'll pay you when you get back. This is for a Miss Kezzel Lockspring. Just give her the envelope and the money, and she'll know what to do."

~"~

Shortly after Lash had hit the road, he'd gotten a private message from Sham that their guild stones had possibly been tampered with. Lash had to wonder if that had been what Howl had been talking about that he'd wanted to stay in town for. How had he known it would be coming?

How did Howl ever know what was going on? He was no rogue, but he was better at gathering information than half the Shattered Hand in Orgrimmar. As Lash traveled along, racing across the plains with the wind rippling his worg's fur and making his cloak billow behind him, he had to wonder if whatever he was delivering held some sort of significance to what was going on.

While he could have taken a windrider and gotten to Rachet in two days, Lash had opted to ride. He wanted Duskeh and his mount, should he come across something worth pursuing in Rachet. And Howl hadn't said that it was urgent, just that he didn't have time to do it himself.

Lash had also wanted time alone. Time to think about what he could do to make a name for himself. To give himself time to think, he'd opted for going across the plains, rather than taking the roads.

That was why he was all the more startled to hear the thuds of a kodo's large feet growing nearer, and someone calling to him as he set up camp on his second night heading south.

It had been Embry Sandsliver, from Blood and Honor. While most of his guild members disliked her, thinking her arrogant, Lash had never minded her company. She was, after all, an accomplished warrior.

The tauren trotted up, a smile in place while she waved, stopping just inside the ring of light his campfire cast across the darkened plains. Lash had to wonder what the odds were that they'd run into one another in the middle of the Barrens.

"Hey! Gorelash, right?"

Lash nodded quickly, slightly surprised that she knew his name. While, yes, he'd met her a few times, it had always been in a group, and introductions had always been loose and fast. Sure, he took the time to memorize every name offered to him, but most were not like that, which he understood. Most simply remembered those who were worthwhile, and it had always left him more than a little dejected when someone he held in high regard would meet him on the road and say something like, "Hey! You're…you're that orc in Impervious, right? Ta'lim's friend?" Or Haa'aji's or Liila's or Margaret's… He was always remembered as someone else's friend. He never stood out enough to be his own person.

Lash frowned as the thought took hold, and he realized that was exactly what he was trying to remedy.

Embry watched him before motioning to his fire. "I don't want to come off as lazy, but would you mind if I camped here tonight? I'd make camp myself, but I'm already pretty beat."

Lash quickly motioned toward the fire, nodding for her to take a seat. Once she had, setting her two-handed axe lovingly onto the dusty ground beside her, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. Lash watched her, wondering if tauren earned their names the same way that orcs did.

"Watcha thinking?"

He blinked, embarrassed to have been caught staring. At length, he shrugged. "I was just wondering how the warfronts are going, I suppose."

Embry broke out into an even wider grin. "They're going great. From what I hear, in two months, Southshore will be ours." Lash murmured that that was always good—really he was considering how Margaret and a few others would miss their Southshore picnics, where they settled down for a nice meal right at the edge of the town's sprawling cemetery and antagonized the humans by staring them down and making hand motions implying they were debating attacking. Embry shrugged. "Honestly though, I think Ashenvale is gonna be big in the next few months."

"Oh?"

"Well," Embry leaned toward him, as though wishing to entrust him with something important. "Don't tell anyone, but there's talk about taking more of the forest. So that we can expand Orgrimmar. And reinforce it."

Lash winced at the notion, but nodded. Better defenses would help, should the Lich King attack again. Embry had noticed his reaction to her words, and she smiled sympathetically. "It must be hard, knowing that one of the few times your guild goes out to do anything, such a terrible attack could happen."

Part of Lash felt indignant in the way she'd said it. Another part saw the truth in her words. He paused abruptly. It was almost as though the Scourge had waited for Impervious to be away. Surely, that had just been coincidence, though. He considered what Sham had said about their guild stones. Maybe the problem wasn't the Alliance, but an entirely different enemy. He'd known a few cultists from the Twilight Hammer had tried to infiltrate Impervious shortly before they'd taken on C'thun. After all, if their enemies could strike at them first…or show that they knew who they were, it would weaken them and keep them from defending their world against its threats.

Did the Lich King know that Impervious was Anonymous?

Embry misinterpreted his silence. "I know it's not my place to ask, and feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but where were you guys? When the Scourge attacked?"

Lash blinked, taken out of his worries. "What?"

"You don't have to tell me. If it's guild business, then I don't expect you to break that confidence." She shrugged. "I was just wondering what you guys do, since I know you're not big on the warfronts."

Lash paused, unsure what to say. Normally, this was the point where Haa'aji or Liila or someone would take the reins and explain some story about investigating a growing threat. Once, they'd even been honest and said that they went to the Molten Core to see if Ragnaros were back. The people inquiring had laughed that off and told them to keep their secrets.

However, this wasn't friendly banter. As much as Embry smiled and threw enthusiasm into her voice, Lash could see a calculating look in her eyes. He made a point not to focus on it. She was fishing for something.

Lash shrugged finally. "We went to Quel'Danas. We cleared the Magister's Terrace." It was true.

"Really," Embry shifted her weight, clearly surprised by his response. Genuine interest crept into her expression for a fleeting moment.

"Yeah," Lash shrugged and laughed half-heartedly. His disappointment was in his audience, not the story he was telling her. He wasn't sure why, but he had the feeling that their chance meeting was anything but. Had she followed him from Orgrimmar? Why? "We had half a mind to save the Sunwell, but, well, I think you know who got there first."

"Anonymous."

Lash nodded.

Embry leaned toward him, the fire casting odd shadows across her face. "So then, did you meet them? Anonymous?"

"Probably," Lash shrugged as Duskeh yawned and curled up beside him, obviously uninterested in the conversation. As the cat blinked lazily at Embry, Lash patted its head. "I mean, there were a lot of adventurers there."

Though Embry tried to ask a few more questions about Anonymous, Lash merely steered the conversation toward how he thought it was interesting that the sin'dorei and draenei had worked so well together. Embry quickly lost interest in Quel'Danas. However, their talk continued into the night, brushing over the different warfronts. Embry was quick to tell stories about how Blood and Honor had captured key locations for the Horde, and Lash listened carefully, though he had a hard time keeping up with her enthusiasm.

He'd always looked up to this tauren—to everyone in Blood and Honor, really—but now she was treating him like some idiot who could be tricked into spilling secrets that she probably assumed he didn't even realize he was keeping. Well, if she intended to, she was going to walk away thinking that Lash was little more than a glorified peon. While he didn't know her game and doubted he could win, he could at least make sure that she didn't either. He'd make sure that she thought all he did was show up when and where Gore and the others told him to.

While it was counter-productive to his long term goals, he figured that protecting the guild ought to come before his pride.

It bothered him, however. Why had he been chosen? Because he was out of town? Or was it because she thought he was the weakest of Impervious?

Finally, during a lull in the conversation, he had to ask. "What brings you out here? There aren't any battles going on nearby, are there?"

Embry had just unfurled her bedroll and was settling down on it. As she looked across the fire at him, the light made her eyes gleam red, reflecting the embers dancing toward the sky. "Supposedly, there's some courier out here with a correspondence from someone in Orgrimmar to the Alliance. I'm trying to find them." She paused as Lash's mind snapped toward the unmarked letter he was carrying. It couldn't be…could it? "What about you?"

Lash frowned and leaned into Duskeh. "Just trying to make a name for myself."

"Really?"

"Really."

Embry didn't sit up, her whole body was still, and her eyes never left his face. "So then, why are you carrying an unmarked envelope to Rachet?"

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Lash's mind raced for a moment before he remembered something Haa'aji had told him once. If you're ever caught in a lie, support it with as much truth as you can.

He'd always thought that was a bunch of nonsense, but now…. He tried to think of some truth about Rachet that he could tell. And then it hit him. He let out a heavy sigh and abruptly leaned toward the fire. "Embry, what I'm about to tell you…" he hesitated. "Technically, it's there for anyone to see, but most people don't pay attention." Embry's eyes were on his face, waiting to catch him in another lie. "Three members of our guild are part of the Steamwheedle Cartel."

She blinked, surprised.

Lash shrugged, running his fingers down the back of his neck, hoping he would look self-conscious. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone…well, bring attention to it, really. But…we're both loyal to the Horde, so I don't see any harm." He let his hand fall into his lap. "The three goblins in our guild could get into a lot of trouble with their Cartel…and the Alliance, if either caught wind of their dealings with us." He frowned. "And it's not like they're betraying their people. They just want to fight for a better world, too."

Embry settled back onto her bed roll. Her smile was gone, replaced with a look of contemplation. "Did you ever consider they might be playing you?"

"Well, I don't really worry about that stuff," Lash shrugged. "Besides, we aren't a war guild, so it's not like we're giving them battle plans. And really, we just summon them to places for fights, like the Magister's Terrace, and then Sprocket—he's a goblin mage—ports them home, and we don't see them until the next guild get together." He was careful not to use the word raid. He didn't want to make it seem like they might be doing anything more than clearing a few dungeons.

For a moment, he thought he saw a look of bitter disappointment cross Embry's features in the dim light, and he had to fight back a grin. However, even as he went to douse the campfire, Embry rose to her feet, rolling up her bedroll. She sighed as he looked at her questioningly. "Look, please don't think poorly of me, but I need to find that courier."

Lash straightened his back, indignant. "You thought it was me."

"I…didn't want it to be you, but…" she paused, suddenly looking so distant and disgusted. "Lately I've been coming to find that a lot of people I thought were good don't have their hearts in the right places." She finished packing her things and swung her axe onto her back, brushing a bit of dirt from her pants as she went toward her kodo. She paused after she'd swung up onto the creature's back. "Please, don't take it personally. I really do think you're a good orc."

Lash had to fight the urge to pack his things and pick up his journey as soon as he couldn't hear her mount any more, just to speed up the delivery of the mysterious letter that may or may not have been what Embry was looking for. He didn't trust that she'd really left him unwatched, however. Blood and Honor had warlocks and rogues and mages aplenty. She could have easily come with back up and have left someone watching him. By the nether, what was that mind vision thing that Tizzle and Liila were always doing to each other?

~"~

Lash had to struggle not to push his worg to travel faster over the next two days. He didn't want anyone who might be watching to become overly interested in his affairs—even though he'd kept an eye out for anyone following him in stealth, he felt like the letter was burning a hole in his pocket, drawing suspicious gazes from any of the scarce few who happened to cross his path, even when most hadn't a clue it existed. His mind raced, constantly going back to what Embry had said.

A letter to the Alliance.

He wanted to look in the envelope he was carrying, but he worried that anyone who might be watching would see his doubt. He cursed himself, realizing that Embry had played him better than he'd thought. After all, if not for her, he wouldn't be doubting Howl, would he?

But then…if Howl did have informants in the Alliance, that might explain how he got some of his information.

Or maybe this Miss Lockspring was his informant. There was no reason to assume the worst from Howl. After all, he hadn't looked the traitor when he'd given Lash the note. And he had said it was a personal matter.

Lash glanced down toward the pocket inside his leather vest. That couldn't have been a cover up, could it…?

Finally, he couldn't take it. Even with Rachet in sight, Lash took his worg down to the beach and came to rest, allowing the giant wolf to play in the surf while Duskeh looked on with disdain for the water. He sat beside his cat, gave the plains an inconspicuous once over to see if anyone were nearby—including inspecting for any signs of any stealthed individuals—and then took in a deep breath and opened the envelope.

Inside was another, smaller one. With an Alliance address on it in common.

Lash felt his heart sink. Howl was a traitor? This couldn't be happening. Was that why he hadn't wanted him reading the note? Because he didn't want to incriminate Lash? Or just because he didn't want Lash to turn him in?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but Lash flipped over the envelope and broke the seal, pausing when he noticed that the seal looked…pretty. It didn't look like the sort of insignia an orc would use to close important documents.

Lash opened the letter solemnly and took care as he read over the contents. While he could speak common fairly well, reading it was another story. It didn't help that Howl didn't seem much better with writing common than Lash was at reading it. However, as he focused on one word at a time, he slowly pieced together what the letter was saying.

And his cheeks flushed.

Folding the paper quickly, he put it back in its envelope. There were no battle plans or plots against the Horde in it.

It was a love letter.

Howl had used Lash as a liaison to his lover in the Alliance.

Lash walked the rest of the way to Rachet, trying desperately to forget what he'd read. Howl was in love with someone from the opposite faction? A Veena Lightsway? He'd always seemed like such a sensible orc.

He didn't even realize he'd asked for directions to Miss Lockspring's office until he was standing in front of her desk. Ledgers and piles of papers tilted in dangerous mounds across the worn wood, though the goblin didn't seem worried that her organized chaos might collapse on her. Instead, after ushering Lash into her office, she hopped into the chair behind her desk and propped her feet up, ignoring as a few stacks of documents teetered.

"What can I do for ya, orc? Trade treatise? Ya need connections ta the high bidders on the other side?" She paused to tap a paper with the Alliance symbol on it.

Lash blinked out of his daze and then fumbled into his pocket. Once he'd produced the paper, Miss Lockspring dropped her feet and scooted forward in her chair, taking out a pair of glasses to read the letter. She sighed when she saw the address. "Mister Bonecrusher's already got a response for Miss Lightsway, has he?"

Lash didn't respond. How long had this been going on? No, he didn't want to know.

The goblin paused as she flipped the envelope over and saw the broken seal. Her gaze flitted up to inspect Lash. "Ya read this?"

"I…" Lash didn't know what to say, shame suddenly welling inside of him again. How could he have betrayed Howl's trust? Just because Embry had claimed that there was some sort of traitor couriering secrets? His voice failing him, Lash merely nodded.

Miss Lockspring leaned onto her elbows, her chin propped up in her hands. "Do me a favor, yeah? Tell Mister Bonecrusher that if he's gonna court a lady, he really needs ta come up with better stuff than…" she paused and flipped open the letter, skimming it quickly. "Better than 'ya eyes gleam like fresh smelted metal'." Her lips dipped into a frown. "No girl wants ta hear that, trust me. Tell him ta talk about stars or the ocean or flowers. I know ya orcs aren't exactly lover boys, but that doesn't mean ya can't try…."

It took a rather pointed stare from the little goblin before Lash remembered the gold fee and offered the money to Miss Lockspring. She gleefully took the coins from him. "Or talk about money. Though, I suppose those draenei women don't care about that so much."

Miss Lockspring laced her fingers and stretched them out in front of her, cracking her knuckles all at once. Then, she pulled a fresh piece of paper out from the middle of one of her piles and produced a quill from the ancestors knew where. Lash watched her lay Howl's letter out on the table and read it over again, more carefully, before starting to rewrite the common onto her new paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Givin' ya friend a chance," Miss Lockspring wrote with beautiful, flourishing handwriting. "No Alliance girl's gonna be able to read his chicken scratch…hell, I'm amazed I can read it." She looked up at him and shrugged. "So…ya need anythin' else, or are we square?"

~"~

"I can't believe…I don't normally do this," Wren murmured, his blonde hair tussled and falling crazily over his bare shoulders. He heard a soft laugh from beside him. Fingers trailed up his arm and brushed back his hair before lips feathered against his skin. He turned his head to see Zeresa was watching him with gentle laughter in her eyes.

"You said that before," She nuzzled his hair and then nipped at his earlobe playfully. "About…seven times before, unless I forgot one."

Wren brought his knees up and leaned his head into his hands, his elbows pressed against his legs. "I can't believe I did this…I'm married."

"And getting divorced," Zeresa answered, leaning against his back and tracing small circles over his skin with her forefinger. "Your brother stole her from you your wedding night, and they've been having an affair for years. Finally, now that your brother's wife has fallen, your wife is divorcing you to marry him."

Wren frowned, realizing that he'd been a bit more talkative the night before than he could remember. He ran his hand against the back of his neck as he straightened up—slowly so as not to jar Zeresa—and looked at her. "I wanted to separate first, but my family said it would disgrace the name…" He felt bile in his throat. Like all the other nonsense they did hadn't already disgraced them.

Zeresa stroked his arm gently. "You shouldn't feel trapped like that. You're going to be free of that witch soon, though…in fact, you already are in all ways save for a few documents that need to be signed, right?"

"But I'm still not a free elf yet," Wren murmured. He'd always prided himself that he had never stolen another elf's partner or had an affair of any sort. Now though…he felt as though he were tumbling down a steep slope, with himself looking surprisingly like Adrias waiting for him at the bottom.

Zeresa seemed to read his mind. "You are a good elf, Wren Duskflame."

He paused and appraised her, skepticism plain on his features.

"I know," she nodded, straightening up and holding the bed sheets over her chest in a surprisingly modest act—after last night, he'd have guessed her to be anything but. "I know because bad people don't worry that they've done something wrong."

As he sat there, looking down at the petite mage beside him, he couldn't help but smile back at her as he leaned forward and cupped one of her cheeks. He kissed her gently and then leaned his forehead against hers. "What miracle brought you to me, hmm?"

Zeresa lifted her arms, dropping the bed sheets, and draped them over his shoulders, her fingers twisting into his hair. "Who says it was a miracle?"

For a moment, part of him wanted to tell her that he couldn't stay. After a night of drinking, they'd finally decided to get a room upstairs, and one thing had led to another until…this. That part of him whispered that he needed to go home and face whatever awaited him or to find out what the guild would be up to next, but more than anything, he wanted to forget all that. To forget his miserable family and the way that Liila had been so callous in her inconsideration of the work that had gone into helping her.

He wanted to forget, and here, in his arms, was by far the most perfect distraction he'd ever found.

With a wide grin settling on his face, he wrapped his arms around Zeresa and pulled her to him again, back down into the tangled bed sheets.

~"~

Enlyhn walked into Whisper's Vials and stopped short when he saw Liila standing behind the counter, quietly running a rag across the surface. He'd known that Sham was still trying to learn the prices of everything and had been counting on finding her here, though in truth, that had just been a roundabout way to get to Liila.

He frowned when he realized that, while this was a more efficient use of his time, it would be far less enjoyable then pestering his guild leader's wife into calling in any favors she could to have the little elf freed so that he could talk to her. Of course, that wouldn't have been the reason he'd have given for her release. Instead, he probably would have courted the idea that after being tortured for so long by the Scourge, she probably wasn't doing well mentally down in a dungeon.

Alas, it looked as though Sham had escaped guilt trips for the day.

As Liila looked up, he grunted and then walked over to her, leaning against the other side of the counter as though he were a paying customer. That would be the day.

"Good to see you out and free again, though I have to wonder how that happened," he nodded to her. The night before, after a few more words had been tossed back and forth between Timmons and the little elf, things had escalated rather quickly, and it had seemed like the whole valley in front of Grommash Hold had been drawn into Liila's supposed 'shadow realm'. He had to say, the few elves who had been taking a late night stroll and stumbled upon the scene had seemed less intimidated and more impressed by the show than anything else.

Perhaps flashing a bit of magical prowess was all she'd needed to earn their trust.

The leaders of the Horde had not been pleased to hear warnings from the grunts that something was amiss, however, and they had come out from their deliberations to put a stop to whatever madness was about to ensue.

Sylvanas had been the one to end the duel, with an arrow through Liila's neck. While Thrall had had choice words for the banshee queen, she had merely offered that Liila would be back up in no time and that someone ought to get the arrow out of her before she resurrected and died again…since that hardly seemed humane.

With Liila's condition known to the leaders of the Horde, her death hadn't meant as much as it might have, and as soon as she was on her feet again, she'd been escorted off to the dungeons with Timmons.

"Garrosh pulled a few strings for me."

Enlyhn blinked slowly. Once. Twice. "I'm sorry, who helped you out of the dungeon?"

"Lash and I helped him in Nagrand some time ago. He owed me." She shrugged. "Now we're even, though, so I don't expect him to do anything more for me, if you were hoping for a favor as well."

Looking through the glass without caring particularly about any of the vials on display, his lips dipped down near his tusks into a pronounced frown. "I may be asking for a favor in a moment, though it won't be from him."

Liila's hand stilled, and she cocked her head. "What kind of favor?"

"Close the shop for a few minutes, and let's head downstairs." As the small elf eyed him, he gave her a mischievous grin. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself."

Though she was hesitant, the day had been rather slow in the ways of customers, so Liila obliged, figuring that anyone who came by would figure her to be out to lunch or something of the like and would check back in later.

Once the doors were locked, they headed down into the guild hall. Enlyhn didn't speak another word until they entered and found it empty. He gave the room an approving nod and then cracked his shoulders one at a time. Motioning toward a chair, he hopped up onto the table, crossing his legs beneath him, pausing to frown once when his heel caught on his robe.

"Now then, I'd like to talk to you about what's happened to Gregor and Timmons."

Liila settled down into a chair near him, her expression unreadable. "And this ties into some favor?"

"I'll get there," Enlyhn replied, drumming his fingers against his knees. He looked over the little elf and then smiled. "So you know how it happened, right?"

"Haa'aji sent me a message, but it was probably a cover up rather than what actually happened. Mitchell was saying something about an experiment…?"

"He was," Enlyhn nodded. "Mitchell made this…concoction, you see. I talked to him a little last night, while you were locked away, and he says that he tried a different approach than most do. While, yes, he's trying to cure the physical effects, to do so, he made the potion so that it reacts with already existing magic." He felt a small triumph in his chest as he noticed Liila's ear twitch slightly. "Mitchell assumes that his little potion is reacting to whatever magical aspects of the plague may have risen our guild mates to begin with."

Liila sat perfectly still, barely breathing.

"Explain something to me, Liila." Enlyhn leaned toward Liila, serious. "I saw the death runes light up on Gregor when the 'cure' took its effect. It was mostly covered by his shirt, and he was convulsing, so I don't think even Haa'aji noticed it as well, but I did. Mitchell's cure isn't curing the plague, is it? It's enhancing the effects of those resurrection death runes."

Liila met his gaze, her expression completely blank. "I see. Have you told Mitchell so that he can adjust his experiments?"

With a scoff, Enlyhn shook his head. "What makes you think I care about that?" As Liila finally narrowed her eyes, Enlyhn motioned to her. "You think I can't figure out who put those runes there?"

"A death knight?"

"You." He shook his head, grinning. "You always say you don't know what the different runes do, but that's a lie, isn't it? You know what each and every one does. What I want to know is how many people you've carved up with them."

Liila didn't move, her hands clasped in her lap and her posture nigh perfect. At length, she broke their staring contest, looking down. "He takes everything from me. I didn't want him to be able to take them, too."

Enlyhn frowned.

"If I'd done the runes on Piikii or Piikiitwo then they would still be with me—"

"Did you put them on me?"

Somehow managing to sit even straighter, Liila shook her head. "No. By the time I reached Kalimdor, I was…better. Not so afraid of losing the people who matter to me."

"If word gets out that you know the runes to bring back the dead, you may end up a fairly busy lady, with all the carving and teaching you'll be forced to do…after all, if you're loyal to the Horde, you'd want to make sure our warriors have every advantage possible, right?"

"You think this curse is an advantage?"

Enlyhn scowled. "I know it is." He pointed his index finger at her. "I'll keep your secret about what you've done to those two…and hell, probably Haa'aji and a few others, but you have to help me."

Liila's gaze flickered black for an instant, the only betrayal that she was upset by the proposition. When she spoke, her voice was as calm as ever. "With?"

Slumping his shoulder forward and pulling his robe down to expose his skin, Enlyhn grinned. "Mark me up, sister."