So sorry about the lack of updates. I just started playing WoW again, so I haven't really done anything for the past week.

To Kyn: you make a good point. My justification is that Tyrr doesn't really know what she's feeling right now. It may be love at first sight, or she perhaps she just confused with the sudden feelings she has for Taff (the Greywalker). Or maybe its just lust, and she's attracted to the tauren based solely on physical appearance. You'll have to wait and see. Anyway, on with the chapter.

Chapter 11

There is a large metal bar at my chest pushing into me so hard, I can barely breathe. My hooves are shackled, a heavy chain connecting them into the walls. My arms are bound with heavy rope and tied behind my back in such a way, I can't move without a sharp pain stabbing my shoulders. There are several needles sticking out of my stomach that are just enough of a nuisance to prevent me from concentrating long enough to cast a spell. My night goes down hill from there.

I stayed in the darkness for who knows how long. I hear voices sometimes, guards bitching about guarding a cow, or talking about their wives and sluts. Then, bizzarely it all suddenly stops with a slamming of the door to my cell. My blindfold is suddenly torn away and my eyes are assaulted with light. It's not just the countless torches in the room, but the golden armor mere inches from my face that reflects the burning glow. When my eyes finally adjust to the blaze, I see him. He's a human, about six feet tall and extremely muscular. He wears the heavy golden metal armor that all paladins (or as I like to call them: religious psycos) use; his only exposed skin is his face which is covered by a thick beard and brown hair at his shoulders. His look is that of a man who genuinely believes he is doing a higher powers will, which scares me to now end. Countless atrocities have been committed in the name of the Light. I should know; I've helped the victims. He's cradling a gigantic hammer like his manhood, a beautiful peice of metal crafted so exquistely, I fantasize about using it.

"Now cow, this is how it will go. I will torture you. You will tell me why the Dark Lady wants you dead. You will tell me whatever secrets you know. Then I will kill you, and put you out of your godless misery." Just to show me he meant every word, he lifts his leg and kicks me hard in my exposed stomach. The force of the blow thrust any air out of my lungs and makes bile climb my throat. I gasp for air, but can't seem to pull enough into my chest. He hits me again. This time in my jaw, and knocks out a tooth. "What do you know?"

"Wow," I say, spitting out blood. "You're strong for a human. Want to arm wrestle?"

"You damn godless abominations," says the human interrogator in a whisper."All of you will pay for your crimes."

"What crimes might those be? I'm not saying I'm a saint, but I only kill those who have it coming."

"You have murdered countless soldiers of the Alliance. You have taken credit for the deaths."

"To avenge those who have died unjustly by their hand, so their souls can find peace in the next world. That's what I do; avenge those who've died before their time."

"Beast!" shouts the paladin as he strikes my jaw. "Hiding your misdeeds and sins under the guise of helping souls. You make me sick. The Light is the only savior and the Light will help the souls."

"Is that your excuse for the village in the Ashenvale forest?" I ask. The human's face suddenly plummets into a look of horror and shock. "That's right," I chuckle. "I know all about that little town from a few years back. Fifty-two unarmed night elves: your allies, slaughtered by a squad under your command. It happened so fast, so violently, the elves never had a chance for a counter attack. I remember this one child. She was so young, almost a baby. You left her mother alive, which I guess a joke, a final method of torment for both."

The human's expression changes to a smug look. "The punishment for worshiping a false god must be swift and exact. It is a distasteful deed, but one that must be done."

"You murdered a town of your comrades because they worshiped a different deity and you have the nerve to say I'm the bad one here?"

"I don't expect an animal to understand. I only hope that the elves I slew have seen the Light."

"They didn't. They begged me for help. I've managed to kill most of the squad responsible, but you're an elusive little bastard. I always hoped that when I did finally catch up to you, our positions would be reversed. My fault for being careless."

"You monster," the human growls. "I'll enjoy killing you."

"Don't show too much emotion there. You wouldn't want the Light to strike you down for feeling something. Hey, why doesn't the Light strike me down; if I'm such a monster?"

The paladin is about to respond when the door to the room burst open and a young human rushes in. "Sir," says the youth gasping for air. "There's been an attack. They've taken out all the guards. We have to…" he stumbles in to the cell and falls to the floor, an arrow erect out of his back. "Sir," he whimpers. "They're here for the tauren, kill it," he says, before his soul leaves its shell. The human interrogator turns to me, fire burning in his eyes. "Your friends," he laughs. "Well, they won't get you back alive." He lifts the hammer over his head, prepared to kill me like he would livestock. After all, that's all I am to him. But I don't close my eyes or flinch. I won't give him the satisfaction.

The tender area of his neck, just above the armor plating, is pierced by an arrow. He stumbles into the cell, gurgling blood and cursing with his last breath. Then, with the clank of his heavy armor, he falls to the ground still shaking and murmuring obscenities. "Bout time Aloos," I grunt. But it's not Aloos that walks in. Instead, it's an elf: long black hair at her waist and pale purple skin, delicate ears protrude from the side of her head. Because she wears such simple clothes, the contrast of the elaborate armor when I first met her, I don't recognize her at first. Lacking the strict military appearance, I realize how attractive she really is. "You're," I say through the blood that's been pooling my mouth. "You're Mab's daughter: Tyrr."

The night elf slinks towards me and gently pulls the needles from my stomach. She disappears behind me and cuts the rope that binds my hands, then picks the lock to free my hooves.

I stand up, shakily getting my balance. My muscles are still sore from the fight with Windrunner's assassin and the interrogation, but movement dulls the pain. The elf slinks in front of me and extends a hand. Its such an odd gesture for one of her kind, I don't make a move in confusion. "Hello Taff, I'm Tyrr Pantherfoot. I never got to thank you for saving me."

I hesitantly take her hand and shake, my huge palm engulfing her tiny fingers, yet I'm sure not to hurt her. We stay like that for minutes, each seeing the other anew. I catch her soft, sweet scent and it massages my senses into tranquility. How could I not notice such a sweet natural aroma when I first found her? How could I not realize how beautiful she is? It must have been the armor, and the hate in her eyes, that turned me off. Or maybe, it was my own small prejudices for the race responsible for my family's murder. But she's so different now: her clothes, her eyes, her sweet scent. The way she looks at me has changed: not a hint of superiority or disgust, just a pure feeling of liking. Either her feelings are genuine, she's deeply confused, or she is an excellent actress.

"Awe, ain't that cute mon," says Aloos, a silhouette in the door. "Sorry ta break dis up, but we still got ta get out of here. Think ye can fight mon?" he asks, handing me a new staff. I thank him, but instead take the paladin's hammer. Its truly an amazing weapon, carved from solid metal rather than several peices welded together. It'd be a shame to let it rust on the cold dungeon ground.

I lift up my free hand and summon a small ball of energy into my palm. The human interrogator is still struggling to hold onto his life, so I release the lightning into body: killing him. I watch as his soul evaporates into mist and wave a mocking goodbye. "I can manage. Can you?" I grunt, looking at Tyrr.

"Hey mon, dis little elf's body count would do ye proud. Been keeping right along wit me."

The elf looks down at the ground embarrassed. "We should go," she whimpers.