Sorry this is a day late, but I didn't want to post on Christmas. Happy Holidays, next chapter will be up on New Years Day.

Chapter 2

The mechanostrider moved through the forest with the grace and stealth of an enraged kodo. Wonki did not mind. She was not on a mission. She was not stalking the enemy through the jungles like she had so many times before. Her superiors called it a vacation. She had been through a lot, after all. She needed some time off.

In reality it was a suspension, nothing more. Two weeks for them to investigate Bracha death. The dwarf woman was a high level operative. For her to have been killed by a group of murlocs would look bad for the Alliance as a whole. They would comb through the evidence, searching for someway to pin her death on Wonki (death by a warlock was much more respectable than death by a fishman's trap). When they failed to unearth any evidence of foul play, they would invent a story about how Bracha died a heroic death, fending off a dozen murlocs so that Wonki could escape.

She reached Booty Bay before sundown, which was good. The many troll tribes grew restless when the sunset. They were more likely to creep from their tents, looking for something to steal or kill or eat. She shivered.

Booty Bay was the same as it was the last time she had been there. The goblins, on their comical turtle mounts and armed with clubs nearly as large as they, patrolled the decks, breaking up the occasional fights between drunken orc and human.

After leaving her mechanical mount in the stable, Wonki went about the important business of finding the tavern.

The inn smelled of stale ale and blood, as well as the unique odors of the variety of creatures that resided there. Tauren, the huge bestial creatures, always had an earthy, grassy smell mixed with the scent of fur. Orcs smelled dry, like stretched leather and cigars. Humans always smelled of smoke and chewing tobacco. Night elves had an aroma of the forest and trees they loved so much.

Wonki climbed, a little awkwardly, onto a stool at the bar.

"What'll it be?" asked the human bartender.

"Lemonade," she said. "Hard."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, but quickly put the requested drink before her. "What'll it be for you?" he asked, looking to the troll who had taken the stool at Wonki's left.

"Ale mon," he said, before nudging Wonki slightly. "Hey dere little lady."

She looked to him, recognizing his voice, and smiled. "Hey there Al. By the light, what the hell happened to your eye?"

"My name is Aloos. A-loose. You call me Al one more time and I'll punt ye over da rainbow."

"Okay," she chuckled. "What's with the eye patch?"

"Ah, some night elf little shit gouged it out. Wanted ta get ta Cerb or something. I was pretty drugged up at da time. He's dead now. So what brings ye ta Booty Bay?"

"I have an extended leave of absence. Two weeks." There was a hint of sadness, or perhaps annoyance, in her voice. Most would not have noticed, but Aloos's ears were keener than most.

"Why?"

"Bracha is dead."

Aloos brought his ale to his lips and slurped it down. "Sorry bout dat."

"Don't be. She was a zealot bitch. All she ever did was preach about the Light and how corrupt it is to lay in bed with demons. I mean, I did that once with my succubus when I was really drunk, but she kept bringing it up. Most days I wanted to kill her myself."

"You wanna talk bout corruption? We allied wit da bloods. I was in Silvermoon an dere was…Well dere was some shit happening. Two faced little bastards, dey are. Dey're more fun than I thought dey'd be. Still little shits though. Little shits who've saved my life more than twice."

"Shit happens in war. That's why Bracha tolerated me. That's why you tolerate the blood elves. I'm strong with magic, stronger than Bracha was, so she kept me around cause I was useful. She hated demons, but she loved it when my voidwalker took a fatal blow for her. She loved it when our foes fell, hexes burning their skin off their bone. There was one less to deal with. The blood elves can do quite a bit more with magic than any of you guys can. When I was in Desolace, I was working with Taff, Eck and Shoke?"

"Shaak," Aloos corrected, ordering another set of drinks.

"What ever his name was, he was amazing. I was better, but he was amazing. Kind of makes me wish that they were still on our side. Makes me scared of what you can do now." She took a long chug from of her lemonade. Her vision was distorting a bit, but she didn't yet feel the true effect of intoxication.

"I ran into one of ye draenei a while ago. He put up a good fight. Had me at his mercy. But ye know how ye Alliance types are. He started to monologue, said how wes all demons. Or, maybe he was askin for pie. I don't know, I'm not too good at understanding dere language."

Wonki twisted around in her chair, but lost her balance and fell off. Instinctively, she lifted both hands in front of her face as the ground spiraled towards her. It took her a moment to realize that she had not hit the ground, but was floating. It took her even longer to realize that Aloos was holding her by the ankle.

"What da fuck is wrong wit you?" He chuckled, noticing the glazed over look in her blue eyes. "Poor little gnome wit ye lack of tolerance and low body weight. Sit here on da stool and stop fuckin around."

"I ever said I like you?"

"Stop it Wonki."

"Not like that," she laughed. "But I like you and Taff and Eck better than I like anyone on the Alliance. Rendal is gone. Bracha is dead. I'm all alone now. But you're the only one who really likes me. Sure, Taff is nice, and he's gentle, and he never hurt me. He carried me, when I got shot, and he didn't hurt me, even though I just about fit in his hand. But he doesn't like me. Because of these demons. He can smell their corruption. He loves me, but he doesn't like me. You're the only one who likes me. You're my only friend."

"Taff is gone mon. He ran away wit Lunn about a year ago. Cerb, Eck and Shaak still dere. Eck da new commander of da squad, Cerb his second in command. I'd kill Shaak but, y'know, den I'd have ta do all da paperwork."

Wonki put her head down and started to cry, low at first, then began to wail. "Bracha is dead," she screamed.

"Yes mon, ye keep sayin dat."

"No," she whimpered. "I should be dead. She died because she was saving me. I couldn't help her. All I can do is hex and corrupt. She could heal. She could save lives. I can't do that."

"Stop crying. People startin ta stare."

"And Twoblade," she growled. "He has the nerve to think I had something to do with it. I hated Bracha. She was a selfish, sadistic, psycho bitch. But I would never try to kill her. She was my partner. She hated me, but she did what she had to do for the mission. She hated you, but she saw the need to cooperate with you and Taff and Cerb and Eck. She hated me, but she healed me if I was hurt. And she saved me. She saved me when she should have been saving herself."

"Okay mon, you've had enough ta drink," he said, picking her up her tiny frame over his shoulder. "Lets go 'fore ye say anymore."

"I love you Aloos," she whined, wrapping small arms around his neck and squeezing, until her intoxication took its toll and she passed out.