Chapter 7

A blue, two toed foot nudged a human's hand. When the body it was attached to didn't stir, the two toed foot nudged the hand again, slightly harder. Foolishly, the human peeked his head up and looked around, but seeing the slim troll before him, buried his nose into the ground.

Aloos dropped a foot onto the Scarlet's neck, and was rewarded with a gurgled crunch. The human also burst to life. He thrashed about wildly on the ground, helpless as the pressure increased on his neck. Finally sensing the zealot no longer drew breath, the two toed feet moved along the ground and tapped another human's hand. This human must have been smarter that his predecessor, for he remained motionless. Aloos let his foot lean on the Scarlet's hand: slowly crushing the fingers until the human let out a whimper of pain.

"Aloos," called a seductive purr from across the body strewn battle field.

"'Ey Lunn. Long time no see?" The troll smiled as he looked over the elf's breath taking body: her faultless hips, her gorgeous chest, her perfect features. Even the tattoos that marked her eyes had a unique, strangely alluring appeal.

"Have you seen Taff?" she asked, trying to ignore his wandering eyes.

"No mon. Battle be pretty big. He's probably wit da healers."

Lunn looked about, biting her lower lip. "Yeah, of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Ye okay mom?" Aloos asked thoughtfully, despite himself.

"Yeah, of course."
The troll stared at the night elf's shapely rump as she padded off. The human at his feet tried to crawl off. With out taking his eyes off her, he crushed the Scarlet's throat.

---

Long, slender fingernails glowed with magical bounty, as a healing spell transferred from host to target. A heart began to beat, and dead lungs drew breath. The undead soldier breathed to life as his body glowed. Slowly, he stumbled to his feet, wobbled, then stood strong. "Sergeant Eck," the soldier saluted when he had the strength. "Are we victorious."

"Yes," the priest nodded. "The blood elves have been officially deputized by order of the Dark Lady, she returned to us during the battle."

The soldier imagined Sylvanas Windrunner, charging into the fray on her flaming steed, slaying the zealots by the drove. The thought gave a feeling of warmth into his breast.

"I've returned you to life, but you will still be dangerously weak," Eck explained. "Go to the inn to rest." He saluted, and the soldier returned the gesture before leaving. Eck noticed he favored his right.

Undead lungs were violently gripped by a cough. Eck wheezed and panted forcefully, he'd fall if he didn't hold so tightly to his staff for support. He recovered briefly, but again he began his fit of coughing. This time, his staff slipped out from beneath him. The ground was cold as hey lay there, a wet wheezes passing out of his lips

"Are you alright?" purred a voice.

"Yes," he said weakly. The night elf helped him to his feet.

"Have you gotten that wound in your shoulder examined?"

"No, its just a flesh wound."

"Eck, that looks really bad. Your anatomy should've stopped the bleeding at least."

"What do you want Pantherfoot?" the undead asked bitterly.

"Have you seen Taff?"

"No, I've been a little preoccupied saving what few of my people are left."

Lunn looked about uncomfortably. "Would you like me to heal that wound in your shoulder? I know a couple of restoration spells."

"Elf," Eck snapped. "I have work to do. Now why not make yourself useful or go back to your precious tree?"

Lunn muttered a slur in her native tongue as she moved off.

---

The sword had wounded Cerberus's right arm. Had it found its mark a few inches lower and to the left, it'd have pierced the joint and the humans would have claimed another of the tongueless orc's limbs. But instead, the sharp edge of steel had slit the skin, black blood slicked the green but no major harm was done. Cerberus returned the favor by swinging his battle axe into the Scarlet's chest and cleaving him two.

The orc didn't want medical attention, but when the Scarlets finally fled like the cowards they were, he'd been order to have the wounded fixed. He wondered how much blood he'd lost as he watched veins, muscle and skin expertly sutured by an undead elf, then a bandage was wrapped around the arm. A brief spell to quicken the healing process, and Cerberus was free to leave the inn.

To his unimaginable distaste, the town of Brill was now crawling with elves. And not just the night elf called Lunn, whom the orc tolerated by order of the Warchief. Nor the undead high elves, would had been converted during the war against the Burning Legion. They weren't really elves anyway, but simply Forsaken. The elves who now wandered the streets were short and slim, with golden hair and pail skin. Blood elves, they called themselves.

Cerberus whistled loudly, and his pet padded over the streets to join him. He was about to leave the elf ridden town, when the one called Cynthana stepped in his way. It took a great deal of will power not to crush the little pest.

"Thank you for saving my brother's life. He told me all about it. Your name is Cerberus right? Like in the human's mythology?"

The orc grunted as he continued walking, but the blood elf continued to persist.

"Am I right. I knew a human, back when we were still called high elves and they weren't trying to kill us. She told me a lot about mythology. Is this your pet? That must make you a hunter? I knew a dwarf who was a hunter, he never went anywhere without this huge bear. They say a pet would die for its master. Eventually the bear did. The dwarf was so crushed, he turned his own rifle on himself. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for saving my brother. Maybe you all aren't as bad as the humans say." And with that, she scurried off. Cerberus's mouth fell agape in confusion.

---

"Drink," Shaak said as he poured the conjured juice into the Forsaken's mouth. The blood elf didn't concern himself with how an undead creature had a working metabolism, or how the sap would benefit it. The drink oozed down the Forsaken's mouth and disappeared down his throat. The undead creature stirred groggily, before he returned into dreamless sleep.

Shaak tried his hand at wrapping the undead's wounded arm, but found it harder than he thought. The bandage would have to be tight, but he feared applying too much pressure and the Forsaken's frail bone would snap in two. He was relived when a pair of purple hands did his work for him.

Shaak didn't hate this night elf; he knew not to judge a whole race based on the acts of some. She was nice to him and clearly showed disgust at the thought of what others like her had done. She had said her name was Lunn, which seemed far too simple for a night elf.

"Have you seen Taff?" she asked in common.

"No," Shaak said slowly.

"Damn it. I've searched the entire town. He's a pretty hard target to miss after all," she chuckled.

"Why do you search for him? I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"I felt something during the battle. Something that made me sick. And I'm afraid something happened to him."

"You care for him?" Shaak asked, confused.

"Yes," she said sadly, soft enough that none of the Forsaken could hear. "He's the only real friend I have."