Authors note: Grrr... working on a mac with the way this site converts files is hard. Anyway, if you want me to improve, tell me how! Review the story, dangit! Allrighty, on to the story...Also, the tabs won't stay with the darn format, so, sorry.

Chapter 3

The worst thing a mage can do...

As the Gnome went through the various states of consciousness one thing went through its mind: You done it now, Quinta. You broke concentration while teleporting. The worst thing a mage can do. Light knows where we... We?

"... Up!"

A scratchy voice swam into and out of Quinta's mind.

"..Ake up!" It said again, desperate.

I know that voice, Quinta thought. It's that stupid undead that said I had to take her to Orgrimmar. Swimmingly, the mage's vision came back, slowly and surely. The hearing still needed time, though.

"Are you all...it?" Scynta inquired. "You to...k a ...ig fall."

"Ahm commin 'roond... woahzy doh." Quinta cursed her voice. Great, I sound like I've been through a Dwarven drinking party, she thought. At least all of me came through the botched portal. Right? Quinta checked her extremeties... Yep, all three fingers, and all five toes...two arms, two legs, and one head. All clear. A big bump on the head, but nothing really bad. Quinta had seen worse things happen to unprepared mages... A pair of legs popping out of nowhere and the screaming top half some thirty feet away is not something you soon forget. Quinta felt to together enough to hazard a question. "What's in the box?" she asked.

"Dunno. Big V asked me to take it to Thrall. Never said what was in it." The undead said, sounding used to people not telling her things. "I wish Kayles or Sanic were here... they'd know what to do. Not a little rogue like me." Scynta looked sullenly at the reddish earth. "Where are we?"

Quinta surveyed the lanscape. It was, for lack of a better word, dry. A few trees stood defaintly in the distance against the lack of humidity.

"The Barrens. West of Orgrimmar. I think my sneeze caused us to overshoot a touch."

"How much is a 'touch?" Scynta asked, knowing sugar-coating when she heard it.

"A hundred miles or so." Quinta said casually. "At most, a week's walk from Orgrimmar. If we can find Crossroads from here, we can take a wind-rider to the city." Quinta took a map out of her pocket and unfolded it. "Now, let's see where we are...

'What is lost, is always found,

What is forgotten is never unknown,

Though weary we be,

Mord never gave me,

a day off, for excuses merely

these three.'

There!" Quinta passed her hand over the map and a small dot appeared on it, glowing. A list written in Gnomish and an arrow, with some more Gnomish writing next to it, pointed northwards from the dot, also appeared. Quinta looked at Scynta's confused face and said, "Mord's Tell-all charm. Handy when you're lost or forgetful. The arrow shows us where to nearest town is, and the list is for things you have to do." Quinta examined to map carefully, then began to walk. Scynta, not really having any other option, followed.