I have good news all my devoted fans. Updates will now come weekly, every Tuesday night. I was actually going to end the story here, but I thought up a few more story arcs. Anyway, enjoy.

Chapter 11

Light.

Lots of light.

Blinding light. Aloos groaned as he moved an arm over his eyes to block out the light. So much light.

"Oh, you're awake?" asked a voice, soft and kind. Elizabeth's voice. Thank the spirits his hearing still worked. "We were beginning to fear you'd never recover."

The troll forced his body up, leaning against the backboard of his bed. "How long?" he mumbled.

"Two weeks you've been in a coma," Elizabeth said. "For the first three days Jon and I had to channel our magic constantly, or you'd of joined your ancestors. Even your kinds natural regeneration wouldn't of saved you. Still, its quite an accomplishment you've survived. If you were anything less you'd be dead."

"Tanks," he smiled. "What been happening?"

"Well, the Scarlets had acquired some sort of artifact, a relic that empowered their weapons with a corruption. Brill would have torn itself apart if Taff, Lunn and Shaak hadn't practically leveled the Scarlet Monastery."

"Shaak? Bout time that pale faced freak did something useful." Aloos was about to stand when he realized something? "Lizzie, where da hell are my pants?"

The undead laughed, despite herself, and pulled a set of clothing out of a chest.

---

Aloos stepped out into the sun for the first time in what seemed like weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks out of the loop. He looked around. He'd really missed a lot.

Blood elves were everywhere. Aloos counted three at first, heavily armored and serving as the town's sentries, carrying pole-arms forged by undead blacksmiths. Then there were others: drinking in the inns, buying in the shops. Damn it, they were everywhere, like a swarm of murlocs. Only they were taller and had better skin.

He wandered about for a while, looking for a familiar face, but all he could find were the pail features of blood elves. It was infuriating.

"Cerb," he called out suddenly. The orc turned to the voice and waved.

Aloos, he signed, using a langue that the Horde had developed. You are awake.

"Yeah mon," the troll chuckled. "Sticks an stones may break me bones, but it takes more then dat to kill me."

We were all worried.

"Sorry mon. Want ta get a drink?"

---

The two took a seat in the back of the Brill tavern and ordered several pints of ale. "So mon," Aloos asked. "What I been missing?"

We had a few missions. The tongueless orc signed. Nothing large. Inflicted more casualties to the Scarlets.

"Da blood elves? What about dem?"

The Forsaken have taken a liking to them. Many were high elves in life after all.

Aloos took a long chug of ale. "I don't like dis mon. I don't like dis one bit. It was one ting to give em asylum. Pretty soon everyone will be needin asylum from da Alliance da way I figure it. It was another ting ta deputize dem when we needed em. But ta take em into our forces, now dat we got some relative peace. Dis won't end well."

Night elves? the orc gestured.

"Dey ain't goanna stop mon. You seen Lunn during her time of da month. Imagine an army of her."

Cerberus lifted his mug to his lips and drank deeply.

"Dere something wrong mon?" Aloos asked.

The orc shook his head.

"Deres something wrong mon. What is it?"

Cerberus looked away.

"Fine mon. I got enough skeletons in me closet: I got no right to pry." The troll placed some money on the table. "I'm goanna go get laid if ya need me," he said eyeing a particularly attractive blood elf sitting at the bar.

---

Aloos could get used to this. He looked to his side and at the slender form that slept beside him. At least dese bloods served some purpose, he thought. They were beautiful creatures: breathtaking bodies, perfect chests, soft smooth skin, flowing golden locks of hair. It was their eyes that Aloos didn't like: the glowing orbs that burned with such unpredictable intensity.

Maybe I could put a bag over her head, he joked to himself. One of his fingers brushed over the blood elf's forehead, displacing her hair in favor of seeing more of her face. It wasn't so bad when her eyes were closed.

Yep, he thought, laying back down onto his back. Dis ain't so bad. Could be a hell of a lot worse.