I tried doing a Halloween chapter. I really, really did. I sat here for 6 hours straight, writing and rewriting. But soon it became clear what the problem was. It was jarring, and it detracted from the main path of the story. So I decided I'd write a Halloween-themed one-shot instead, based off of one of my future story plans, about an Undead and a Worgen. But then I realized that would essentially destroy some really good story potential solely to create a Halloween one-shot, and so I have put that story on the back burner to become a full future project. Following this, I needed a day to retweak the story to remove the Hallow's End bit.

TLDR: I tried writing a Halloween chapter, but it took away from the story. I then tried to make a Halloween one-shot, but saw too much potential in it and decided to make it a future fic.

And now back to our regularly scheduled program!


I've tried re-uploading this chapter several times but there seems to be some error in FF! Please, if you could, leave a comment saying that you can read this chapter. If not, I'm going to have to move to only posting on AO3!


Zami furrowed his brow, watching Jazax cross his arms grumpily and almost seem to sink up into himself. Across from them, Mythene stared down with a stern gaze, which the goblin refused to meet.

"Okay, I know my Darnassian is a little rusty. I know, okay? But I'll get back into the swing of it with a little bit of-"

"Practice?" Mythene finished for him, sliding the grammar book in front of him.

Jazax glared at the book like it owed him money and then turned his annoyance to the night elf holding the book.

"Look, sweetcheeks, I can already speak Darnassian. You don't gotta treat me like this idiot here," Jazax said with a nod towards Zami as he pushed the book back towards her.

Zami made a face at Jazax's comment, but Mythene spoke before he even could get a word in.

"Are you literate?" She asked coolly, leaning back to look down her nose.

"Am I literate…" Jazax snorted incredulously, as though amused by the question.

"Well?" Mythene perked a silver eyebrow, "Are you?"

"Wait, you're serious? Really? What kinda question is that, huh?" Jazax scowled, turning to Zami, "Can you believe this broad? The nerve."

"Well, can ya?" Zami shrugged, watching Jazax's expression go flat.

"Unbelievable," Jazax muttered, sitting back in his seat, "You too? Jeez, never trust a guy who's got it bad, eh?"

Zami just gave another shrug, smiling at Jazax innocently, as Mythene began to scribble something down on a loose paper. Then she set it out before Jazax and gestured to it.

"Can you read this or not, you little pest?" She asked impatiently, watching him like a hawk as he picked up the parchment.

Jazax looked at it for a moment, his purple eyes skimming over the symbols, before lowering the paper with his expression flatter than ever.

"Of course I can. And I ain't little," He grumbled, "I'm fun-sized."

Zami leaned over to catch a glimpse of the parchment, which was rather difficult to do. It felt like there was barely enough of a chair to sit on in the first place, let alone lean over on it. It took a minute for him to translate in his head, but he was pretty sure it said something about a lemon. And possibly a bear.

Speaking of which…

Mythene's father, who was named Caserion, entered into the kitchen. He looked at the three of them around the table, rolled his eyes, and approached the cooking pot. He gave the pot a quick stir with the wooden spoon before beginning to pour himself a bowl of stew. Giving another sideways glance in their direction, he then cleared his throat conspicuously, drawing everyone's eyes.

"The Harvest Festival will begin tomorrow," Caserion said in Darnassian, setting down the wooden spoon, "I do hope your heathen friends will make themselves scarce for the festivities."

He turned towards the group before continuing.

"The Harvest Festival honors the fallen, and many of our neighbors have lost loved ones to their Horde brethren. Their presence will not be welcome."

"Hey, don't you throw me in with this lot," Jazax spoke up, his Darnassian a little choppy but otherwise pretty well-pronounced, "I'm not with the Horde. What, do I look like one of those Bilgewater cretins?"

"That you do," Caserion said, completely unfazed by the goblin's Darnassian, and he turned to exit the room without another word.

"Da Harvest Festival, huh?" Zami spoke up in Orcish after a moment, breaking the silence that had settled in, "Is it dat time of da year already?"

"Goes by faster the older you get, huh?" Jazax chuckling, elbowing Zami's side playfully, before adding, "I got a few people I wanna honor."

"Yeah, same here, mon," Zami nodded grimly, "A lot more dan last year…"

"An'da has a point, however," Mythene frowned, leaning against the table, "It wouldn't be wise for either of you to simply wander about, at least not during the Festival. Not when so many are in mourning for the lost."

"I guess dat's true but…" Zami trailed off, conceding her point even if he didn't like it much.

The Horde was, no doubt, responsible for most of the recently dead. Not just in Darnassus, but all across the Alliance. Well, that and the Scourge, of course. And the Burning Legion. Not to mention the Scarlet Crusade. Plus the Twilight's Hammer and the Old Gods. Actually, was the Horde even that much of a threat compared to all that?

"So, what, we're just supposed to stay inside for the next week?" Jazax frowned, "Sounds awful boring…"

Zami nodded in agreement and Mythene gave an exasperated sigh, lightly pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I would think you would welcome the comforts of civilization after so long in the jungle," She pointed out dryly.

Zami just shrugged, as it made no real difference to him, but Jazax put a hand on his chin.

"Well, I guess I have kinda missed my bubble baths…" The goblin mumbled, more to himself than any present company.

"Dat's fine for ya, but I ain't gonna sit here and just wait," Zami sniffed, crossing his arms, "I'll just stealth, 'cause I always light a candle for Ran'do and ain't nobody gonna stop me."

"Who?" Mythene and Jazax asked in unison.

"Ran'do," Zami repeated, slinging his thumb under the coarse twine of his necklace, "My friend."

He pulled it out from under his leather cuirass, showing off the various different fangs and claws for a moment, before grasping the broken bit of troll tusk.

"Ah, yes," Mythene nodded, wrinkling her nose a little as she eyed the necklace, "Your friend who lost a fan-tusk brawling for a woman's hand."

"Sure hope that ain't the one he lost," Jazax said with a nod towards the tusk in Zami's hand.

"Nah, dis is da one I took when he died," Zami said with a terse frown, rubbing his thumb over the weathered old tusk, "Somethin' to remember him by, I guess."

"How'd he die?" Jazax asked curiously, to which Zami just shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably.

"Same way everybody I care 'bout dies," He sighed bitterly, dropping the tusk, "I killed him."