Of Claws and Totems

by Kechlion

When a Worgen with his humanity intact comes out of hiding to save a Draenei, he'll realize that perhaps living alone isn't so great. His story is one of constant strife: fighting for acceptance, fighting for her heart, and fighting for Azeroth. Rated M for violence, some gore, and some sexuality.

27. Chapter 27 Home

Of Claws and Totems

Chapter 27

Home

Blackheart's group had continued on the road to Theramore for another couple of hours before it started to get too dark to see and they set up a small camp. He had found out from Thrak that the road between them and the island city was in good enough shape that their pony and cart would do just fine. They pulled their pony off to the side of the road and picketed her so she could graze on what little vegetation was available (and not poisonous). They found a relatively dry spot to start a fire, and Thrak and Maleah offered them some of the food they had brought, which Blackheart and Kalara gladly accepted.

As they were setting out their bedrolls after the meal, Blackheart shifted back to his human form causing Thrak to nearly jump out of his seat while Maleah clapped and asked him to do it again, like a child whose parent had showed her a trick.

He shifted back to his worgen form for a second before shifting back to being a human. "Wow!" Maleah exclaimed, clapping once again in delight. "That's amazing. I hadn't even seen any of the new Alliance worgen yet, much less get to see one change. What does it feel like? Does it hurt? Can you always do it at will? How often can you change? What else changes?" she rattled off a few more questions before Thrak laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Calm down dear, I'm sure Blackheart doesn't care to be bombarded with questions about what he is."

Blakcheart and Kalara both laughed at the little gnome before he replied. "I don't mind at all, but if you do want answers you'll have to slow down so I can actually answer your questions before you ask more. To start with, if you can imagine all of your bones restructuring themselves at once, that's what it feels like. I've done it enough that I don't really notice the pain associated with it. As far as I know, yes I can do it as often as I want. When I'm a worgen I'm faster and stronger than as a human, with the obvious benefits of fur, claws, and fangs."

She nodded her head. "So how did you become a worgen? And how did you learn to change back? And how did you avoid being a crazy killer worgen? Are you from Gilneas? You don't sound like you're from Gilneas. Can you bite someone and make them a worgen? Could you bite me and make me a worgen? A gnome worgen, that would be awesome!"

Blackheart raised his hands to calm her. "For your last points, no I don't think you can become a worgen. As far as I know only humans and night elves can contract this… curse. And no, I'm not from Gilneas. I'm from Thearmore." Blackheart spent the next while recounting his story of being bitten, somehow not losing his sanity, and then going to Darnassus and discovering how to change back into human.

Maleah had sat in rapt attention the entire time of his story. "Wow, that's amazing. You've got quite the willpower."

Blackheart nodded. "You should all get some sleep. I'll take the first watch." With that, he turned back into a worgen and found a decent spot from which to watch over their camp. As he settled in he turned his thoughts to what tomorrow would bring. Theramore had been his home, or at least near enough. He had grown up just outside of it in a community so small it wasn't even on the map. His house had actually been within sight of the tower in the center of Theramore. He wondered if it would still be there… if his family would still be there. Either way, tomorrow would be when he found out.

The night had passed uneventfully, to Blackheart's great relief. After the struggle with the crocolisks and whatever the strange sprites had been he was thankful to not have another fight on his hands when they had tried to rest. Just before sunrise he had woken up to find Thrak sitting on a stump watching over the camp. He could feel Kalara snuggled up against him and heard the faint breathing of Maleah. As the sun finally broke into the swamp he felt the familiar rush of energy as it swept through. Even amidst the rotting plants and fetid water that lay around him it was a beautiful event. Not quite as amazing as some of the other places he had been to, but beautiful nonetheless.

Shortly thereafter, the party ate a light breakfast and got on their way. Blakcheart and Kalara once again rode in the back of the wagon amid bags of reagents and beakers for alchemical experiments and Thrak and Maleah sat up front. Blackheart was thinking about his family and something must have shown on his face because he felt Kalara's hand caress his cheek. "What's wrong?" She asked.

He sighed and spent a moment collecting his thoughts before he spoke. "My mother and siblings should be in Theramore, if nothing has happened to them. Will they have stayed in the same house? Are they even still on this continent? What do I even say to them? They will have assumed I've died. I've been gone… I'm not even sure how long I've been gone, over a year at least. I remember that I should have been home long ago and they probably got word that my detachment was lost."

Kalara wrapped her arms around him in a hug and rested her head on his shoulder as the bumped along. "We'll find them. If they aren't in Theramore, surely someone will know where they've gone, and as far as what to say to them I wouldn't worry about it too much. I think they'll be too overjoyed at seeing you to worry about what to say."

Blackheart rested his hand on hers and took solace in the comfort she was providing him. He also wondered how to introduce Kalara to them. He loved her and hoped his family would accept her for that. His mother had always been compassionate and kind regardless of race, so he prayed that she hadn't changed. Then again, with the way his world had been turned on end so many times in a short while, he didn't truly know what to expect. There was something else that nagged at him about returning home, some other bad memory but he couldn't really place what it was. After it eluded his memory for so long he gave up on it and returned to focusing on the comfort he got from Kalara.

They had ridden uneventfully for a few hours when they finally started to reach the edges of civilization. The roads were better maintained, they actually passed a few other travelers, and Blackheart picked up on the salty tang in the air that accompanied the ocean being nearby. They were within sight of Theramore when Blackheart bade Thrak to stop his cart. He hopped out and helped Kalara down before thanking the dwarf and his wife for their hospitality and companionship.

"Aye, think nothing of it. Ye saved us two, ye did. If ye've a mind to come into town, ye should stop by Maleah's shop and visit."

Kalara smiled at the two as she waved goodbye. "We might just do that." She turned back to Blackheart and saw him looking down a narrow path that led off the road and into a clearing where she could just make out a few buildings. "Is this it?"

He nodded. "My home is the furthest one back in that small community. I guess there's not much left but to go to it."

They walked slowly, hand in hand, towards the small community. It took only a few minutes' walk to reach it. There were people going about their daily chores and, with the occasional look at the draenei among them, they paid little attention to the couple. Blackheart slowed as he passed all of the houses and reached the last one and Kalara felt him tense up. When she examined the house more closely she understood why.

It didn't appear that anyone lived there. There was no sign of movement, no sounds coming from within and, while it wasn't in a terrible state of disrepair, it looked like no-one had been there to care for it for a while. It wasn't a large house, by any means, but it had three bedrooms and looked to be built sturdy enough. It had a small porch and the side that they could see had three windows. Blackheart sniffed the air as he walked up onto the small porch. He could smell very faint traces that jogged his memory of his home. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the unlocked door.

Inside the house was completely empty. Blackheart felt a great weight settle in his chest as he slowly went from room to room, finding nothing but the occasional scrap of garbage that had been left behind. He stopped at the second room and felt along the familiar ridges that had been cut in the door frame. Kalara looked closer at what he was examining and saw that there were a set of cuts going up both sides of the door frame, one side had a 'K' under one of the marks and the other side had a 'W' carved under them. The K marks ended just short of how tall Blackheart was while the W marks were slightly shorter than Kalara.

As he ran his hands over one, Blackheart said, "My brother and I used to carve ridges in the door to measure how tall we were." Kneeling down to the one marked W that was three feet off the ground. "I remember helping to carve his first mark. Wayne was so excited that he was old enough to start being measured. Before I left for my last campaign he was almost as tall as you are."

As he rubbed the last cut he had made for his brother in the doorway a memory came rushing back to him. He was standing in his armor, his father's sword strapped on his hip, looking his brother up and down. He had nearly come of age and Blackheart could tell that his brother was excited to be measured one last time before Blackheart went off on another deployment. This was his fifth time to go into action and he was quickly gaining some notoriety in the upper ranks. If he kept this up he might even make officer someday.

He had just finished carving the mark before his brother wrapped him in a tight embrace. "You be careful out there alright?" Blackheart nodded and smiled, affectionately ruffling the boy's hair. "You'll have to come back soon, or else I'll be hard pressed to keep all the boys away from Jonie."

Blackheart remembered laughing deeply at that. "Well we certainly can't have some rascal trying to sweep her off her feet can we?" They shared another smile together before the memory faded.

Kalara searched his face, waiting for him to tell her what had happened. He shook his head, clearing away the old memories. "Just reliving some memories."

Blackheart was about to go into his room and look around when a loud voice from the door stopped him. "Can I help you folks?" His voice didn't sound helpful… but it was familiar. "We don't take kindly to people squattin' in these houses, so if you'll just be on about your way there won't be no need to call the constable. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to…" the man trailed off speaking as Blackheart turned to face him.

He recognized the man; he had been their neighbor growing up. Jim Lars had been his name, and he'd had a wife once, though Blackheart had never known her. Jim though had always been a friend of the family's. He was an older man, easily three times Blackheart's age. His hair, what little he had, was all gray and he had big bushy eyebrows. The pitchfork he had been holding fell to the floor as recognition bloomed in the old man's face a look of disbelief crossed his features. "Kaleth? Is that you boy?"

Blackheart walked over to Jim. "Yes sir."

"But… everyone said you was dead. Them military boys came and said your whole group was dead. The look on your momma's face…" he trailed off, looking into the distance as a memory surfaced. He shook his head before smiling broadly and wiping a tear from his eye. "Well it doesn't matter now, you're alive and back home!" He reached out and gave Blackheart a hug, surprising him with the strength left in the old man's frame.

Ending the embrace, Blackheart held the man at arm's length and asked the obvious question that burned in his mind. "Mr. Lars, where is my family?"

The old man looked around for a moment. "Well, after you didn't come back I reckon your momma didn't want to live in this house no more. Her and Wayne and Jonie moved into the town proper. They come and visit this old soul every now and then."

Blackheart nodded. "Do you know where in Theramore they live?"

Jim scratched his chin. "No, I don't rightly think I do. I don't go into the town too much; I just tend my garden and don't stray too far from home."

Blackheart reached for the pitchfork and handed it back to the older man. "Thank you Mr. Lars. I think I'm going to take a look around the house and then head into town and see if I can find them. If by any chance you see them, would you let them know I'm looking for them?"

After shaking hands, the old man departed. "He's been our neighbor since I can remember and helped to look after my siblings after my dad was killed."

Kalara hugged his arm, waiting for him to take the lead. After a moment he continued back into his room, looking around and telling her stories of him growing up. He moved on to his sister Jonie's room and was hit with more memories.

He was sitting next to her on her bed and she was bawling her eyes out. In her hands was a small box with a cat in it. Its breathing was ragged and as she stroked its head it coughed a few times before giving a feeble purr. She looked up at Blackheart with tear filled eyes. "Why does this have to happen? Why does Fresca have to get sick? It's not fair!"

Blackheart wrapped an arm around his sister in an effort to calm her down. "I know it's not fair Jonie. And I don't know why she had to get sick. I don't think everything happens for a reason. If it did, no one's cat would be sick. And you are absolutely right, it isn't fair. But you've got to remember that life isn't about being fair. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Or cats. The only thing we can do with life is to live it the best we know how and, when someone has to pass on, we have to remember the good times we had with them."

She had stopped crying now, but was still sniffling as she hugged her big brother. "Ok. How do I do that?"

He smiled at her. "Do you remember when Fresca was chasing the mouse around the kitchen?"

A smile started to creep onto Jonie's tear stained face. "You mean the one that tried to hide under mom's dress?"

"That very one! And then when Fresca saw where it went it charged under mom's dress and the mouse ran up her leg and she was so startled she through the dough she was working straight up before throwing both Fresca and the mouse out of the house?"

Jonie was laughing now. "The dough stuck on the ceiling and it took forever for us to get it down. I think there might still be some up there now."

The two of them shared a few more stories of Fresca's antics before the cat passed on, purring till the very end.

Leaving Jonie's room, he showed Kalara the rest of the house, pointing to where the kitchen table used to be and how they would share family meals. Eventually he left the house and went around to the back where an overgrown garden could be found. He could almost hear his mother's voice, teaching him about the various herbs that she grew and what their purpose was. While possibly not the most manly of things he could have spent his time doing, he had always enjoyed helping his mother tend her garden. The pure delight that she had when she made something grow had always made Blackheart happy.

The last stop he made was at an old storage shed, now dilapidated and barely holding up. He had ran out here as a young child when his father had come home to tell them he would be leaving to go fight in some distant part of the Eastern Kingdoms he had never heard of. To put it mildly, Blackheart had not been happy. He'd been so angry at his dad who was constantly called away from his family to go out and fight. He just didn't understand why he had to go.

He didn't look at his father as he came and eased himself down beside Blackheart, staring with him out into the small patch of woods near their home. After a while his father broke the silence. "Do you know why I have to leave all the time, son?" Blackheart just shook his head. "Do you understand what it is that I do?"

Blackheart answered this time. "You fight."

"Aye, I do fight. But do you know why I fight?" Blackheart shook his head again. "Do you think I enjoy fighting others?" Blackheart thought back to the only time he had ever seen his father become violent, or even truly angry for that matter.

Someone had been harassing his mother, constantly coming up and bothering her. Each time his father had calmly told the man to leave her alone. Once the man had even taken a swing at him, but he calmly deflected the attack and sent the man sprawling with a well-placed shove. He hadn't even been angry as he looked at the man in disappointment. The next time he'd had dealings with the man, he had grabbed Blackheart's mother's arm as she was coming out of a store and caused her to trip and fall, bruising her knee.

Blackheart's father had been across the street and witnessed it all before getting to his wife. He calmly helped her to her feet and made sure she was ok before turning on the man. The look that was in his eyes had made Blackheart afraid at the time, and he wasn't even the target of his father's wrath. His father had picked the man up and slammed him against the wall of the store, holding him all the way off the ground before telling him in a deathly calm voice that if he ever came within ten paces of his wife again that he would make sure the man couldn't walk. Blackheart thought that the man had soiled himself before he was thrown out into the street, collected his wife, and went home. Blackheart thought then to his own times in dealing with someone that had bothered Kalara. Like father like son.

So the answer to his father's question was again no. He knew his father didn't like to fight, but it seemed that he did it all the time anyway. "Then why do you keep leaving?" Blackheart asked.

Blackheart's father placed a hand on his shoulder before saying, "I fight to help protect other people. I don't fight for glory or for the enjoyment of fighting; I fight for the people that can't fight for themselves. There will come a time when you will be a man and you'll have your own strength, just like mine and you'll have a choice. Good men, and women, with strength have a responsibility to use it to help others. The choice you have to make is whether or not you'll be one of the good men and embrace your duty, or if you'll be one of the bad men that refuse to help others. I have chosen to help others. I hope you'll choose the same path and maybe you can understand all of this one day." That was the last time Blackheart had seen his father in the world of the living.

He nodded in respect to his father then, fully understanding the lesson and a sense of pride filled him as he knew he had constantly made the right choices, starting from the time he had joined in the military and never stopping, even as a worgen. He knew definitively where his instinct to help others had come from and realized he had his father to thank for his choice to save Kalara on that day so long ago.

Once they completed their tour of the house, they set off for Theramore. While they could see the tower in the center of the island then entire time they were walking, it still took them a half hour to make it to the bridge leading to the city. There was little traffic going in or out, there rarely ever was, and most of it was people that lived in the outer communities coming back from selling things at the market that was held every day.

It was past midday by the time they finally set foot inside Theramore. Snatches of memories kept coming back to Blackheart as he looked at the city. He could remember accompanying his mother hear to sell some of the baked goods she made at home. With that income and whatever odd jobs he and his brother had found, they had survived. He was drawn to look towards the barracks. He remembered enlisting, and the only fight he had ever gotten in with his family. He pointed the building out and told Kalara about how vehemently opposed his family had been to him going into the military like their father. Since he'd nearly been killed and they thought he was dead still, he fully understood why they had fought him so hard on that. The uneasy feeling that he had felt on his way to Theramore returned when he looked at the barracks. He tried to dismiss it as nothing, but it was persistent. He still couldn't figure it out and would just have to wait until later.

"We should probably find an Inn to stay at before it gets too late, and then we'll search a little bit tonight and then more in the morning if we don't find anything." Blackheart said, heading to the nearest inn labeled 'The Happy Sailor'. It had a picture of a human in the clothes of a sailor wearing a massive smile. He'd never needed to stay at any of the inns in town and, never having the urge to drink, hadn't bothered to visit the taverns inside them either.

The inn wasn't terribly crowded, at least not at this time of day. There were a few people sitting around the common room, having a meal or a pint, so Blackheart walked to the inn keeper. He was a portly fellow with less hair on his head than were on his arms. He was idly cleaning out a glass behind the bar. He offered thema pleasant smile before asking, "Can I help you this evening?"

Blackheart nodded. "We need a room for the night." Blackheart's nose crinkled up as he opened his wallet and realized it still held some leftover swamp smell. Thinking about it, he probably didn't smell so hot either. "And a place to take a bath if there is one."

The inn keeper nodded with a smile and took his coins. "Certainly, you can have the first room to the left," he said after producing a key, "and I'll have hot water and soap brought up for you, each room has a small washing area in it."

When they entered the room, Blackheart marveled at the 'small washing area'. It was a huge tub in a completely separate room from where the bed and other furniture was at. He got the feeling that people that stayed here often asked for a bath, which he couldn't blame them. He couldn't wait to stop smelling like the swamp. He did wonder if every room had an extra tub, or if he had just smelled extra strong. After setting their traveling gear down there was a knock at the door and they admitted a couple of attendants carrying buckets of hot water. Once the tub was filled they left.

"I cannot wait to sleep in a real bed and have a nice bath after trekking through that swamp." Kalara said. She walked up to him and placed her hands on his chest and gave him her best begging face. "Can I pleeeeeease go first?"

Blackheart just smiled before taking her in his arms and kissing her. "Yes love, of course."

A short while later the two emerged from their room, smelling much better than before, and ate a quick meal before heading out into Theramore to search as best as they could with the fading light. As they ate, Blackheart caught a smell that he recognized from somewhere in his memory, but he couldn't quite place it. Thinking little more of it, they headed out into the street.

Blackheart didn't have a particular plan when looking. The only thing he could thing to do, at the moment, was to ask the shop keepers if they had ever heard of any of his relatives. Most of them had not, but one seemed to think that his mother might work at a particular bakery. It was closed by the time they arrived though, as were most of the businesses. They returned to the inn with only a slight feeling of frustration.

As he entered the inn a familiar smell came to him, but he couldn't quite place what it was. They were going to head up to their room when Blackheart asked the inn keeper about his family. The jovial man's face lit up in a smile that surprise Blackheart. "Jonie Bishop? Of course I know her, she's one of my cooks! Why, business has nearly doubled since she came in and started cooking for me."

Blackheart simply could not believe his luck. "Is she here now?"

"Oh no." The inn keeper waved vaguely over his head towards the kitchen. "She just went home. Her brother came to walk her home."

"Can you tell me where she lives?" Blackheart asked eagerly.

The man eyed him for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

As much as he appreciated the man's caution at directing a stranger to where his sister, and possibly his whole family, lived he was growing impatient. "Does she ever talk about her past?" The innkeeper nodded. "And did she ever tell you about her older brother?"

"You mean Wayne?" He asked, looking confused.

"No… the other one."

At this the innkeeper took on a somber look. "Yes, she told me about him… Kaleth I think was his name. Said he joined the military and was sent somewhere to the north but was killed in action."

Blackheart nodded before looking the innkeeper in the eyes. "Well... he wasn't killed, and he'd very much like to see his family again."

Recognition slowly bloomed over the innkeepers face as he noted the similarities between Blackheart, Jonie, and Wayne. "You mean… you're Kaleth? Why she'll be… she'll be ecstatic!" He gave them direction to where Jonie lived and they set out quickly after them.

It wasn't terribly far away, a few minutes walking distance, and all along the way he could smell the familiar scent he now recognized. It was Jonie. He had smelled it in her room at his old house and now his heightened senses easily picked it out of the web of other scents that ran rampant in the dark streets. They were making good progress, following what street signs did exist until something stopped Blackheart in his tracks for a moment. It was the heavy smell of malice… and it was going in the same direction as his sister's scent.

He broke into a jog and looked over at Kalara. "Something's wrong, there's someone with bad intentions going the same way that Jonie should have gone."

Kalara's face took on a look of sympathy for a moment. She knew that Blackheart had just found a trace of his family and now there might be something threatening it. She could relate to that well. The sympathetic look lasted only a moment, replaced by one of determination. She nodded and held up a fist arcing with lightning. "You go ahead, I can follow the directions well enough to catch up later."

With a nod and an influx of blackness, Blackheart took off through the streets and, with a powerful spring from his legs, to the rooftops so he could avoid any foot traffic that was out this evening. Though he couldn't follow Jonie's scent from up here, he could follow the directions just by looking at the streets and how he was supposed to turn. It took him only a moment to locate his target: two people turning down an alley... followed a short way later by six more.

Wayne knew the men were following him and his sister, and he had a pretty good guess as to who it was too. He'd already had to fight off one of the local men, one 'Jam' Taylor as he was known. He'd made unwanted advances on Jonie, which wasn't all that uncommon. The not so normal part was that even after repeated no's he still hadn't taken the hint. He'd actually cornered her on her walk home once and, if it hadn't been for a passing guard, there's no telling what he would have done. Since then, Wayne had made it a point to walk Jonie home every evening. He'd already had what amounted to a shoving match with the man earlier that week. It seemed he was now out for revenge.

Jam wasn't used to being told no and he definitely wasn't used to being forced to back down by someone nearly ten years his junior. He intended to have that Jonie girl, regardless of who protected her. So he figured he'd gather up a few of his friends and teach them a lesson. His 'friends' were little more than street thugs, good for only one thing: violence.

He knew the route that Jonie would take home; he'd followed her more than once. So as she and her brother turned down the alley she always took, he and his friends… half of his friends… hurried to block this side of it. He already had a few more friends waiting at the other end. There'd be no escape for them this night.

Wayne was just thinking that they were in the clear when another five men stepped in to block the way they were headed. They didn't make any more except to stand shoulder to shoulder to completely stop them from coming.

"Wayne… what's going on?" Jonie asked as he brought them both to a stop.

Wayne looked back at his sister and could see the fear starting to grow in her eyes. "I'm gonna be straight with you sis, we're in a bad spot. Jam is following us and I guess those guys up there are his dogs too." His words were confirmed when they turned around and saw Jam and the rest of his thugs coming at them from the other end of the alley. Wayne looked around, but could find no escape, he even tried a few of the doors but to no avail.

He looked at Jonie and noticed something replace the fear in her eyes: determination. She reached down and from somewhere in the folds of her dress pulled out a rather sizeable knife. He didn't question where she had gotten it or how she had hidden it, she just hoped it would help her escape.

Wayne looked back and forth between the two advancing groups of men. "Jonie… whatever happens if you see a chance to run you have got to make a break for it. Find a guard and get him to come, or a few guards. Just don't wait around on me."

She wanted to argue with him, but knew that it was their best chance, so she merely nodded. It wasn't long before they were surrounded by the men to their sides and the walls of the alley to their back and front. One lone man walked out in front of them and she almost spit in disgust.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here boys. This looks like the young punk who was getting in the way of my courting. Now why would you go and do such a thing like that boy?" Jam had a greasy smile on his face and it made both Wayne and Jonie's skin crawl.

"You know why. Jonie doesn't want anything to do with you." Wayne kept himself between Jonie and Jam while he was talking.

"She just hasn't gotten to know me!" he said melodramatically, feigning hurt. "How could she just outright toss me aside after being such a tease in the inn, always smiling at a fella when he's getting a drink." He waved his face as if he was hot. "It's enough to get one's blood boiling. Any girl that smiles at you like that ought to know she's offering more than a meal to go with it." He finished off with a lewd stare at Jonie.

"You keep on believing that you piece of filth." Jonie said with as much venom as she could muster.

Jam's countenance changed rapidly. He was now scowling. "If there's one thing I hate more than a woman leading me on it's a woman telling me what to do. I'm afraid tonight my dear that you won't have much of a choice but to get to know me better. Boys, show this little bastard who he's dealing with."

His group of thugs started to move towards Wayne. He was looking them all over, trying to figure out a way to break through them when he heard a loud, threatening growl. The men stopped advancing and looked around before Jam spoke up. "Which one of you idiots brought a dog with you." His men were equally confused and looked around trying to find the source of the noise. When it came again, this time louder, one of the men finally looked up and let out a startled cry at what he saw: perched on the edge of the roof overlooking the alley was a large, black worgen, his teeth bared and his hackles on end.

"What in the hell is that?" Jam asked, slowing backing up.

Wayne looked up and was rooted in place in fear. He knew that the Alliance had found a group of worgen from Gilneas that were friendly, and even had seen a few of them boarding ships in the harbor, but they had looked friendly enough. This one was terrifying. Before he had much of a chance to process it, the worgen leapt down between him and Jam. He heard Jonie gasp and stumble against the alley wall slightly before Wayne felt his back pressed up against it as the creature stood up to its full eight foot tall height, easily towering over the tallest thug there by a foot and a half. He was already terrified, but then he heard it speak.

The worgen raised one of its hands and slid out its claws slowly, letting them shine and display their sharpness. In a deep, menacing voice it said, "If you or your… men," he nearly spat the word, "want to leave this alley on their own two legs, I would suggest you go. Now."

Jam looked around at his group. They outnumbered the creature by a fair margin. Surely they could bring it down together. He pulled out a club he had been hiding and the other men did the same with their weapons, most having some sort of blunt object but a few carrying daggers. He noticed one of his men had started to sneak towards the creature. He almost smiled in anticipation and as the man got closer he raised his own club as if to charge and watched the thug swing his rough mace as hard as he could at the creature's back.

His happiness was short lived however as the worgen, almost too fast for his eyes to follow, turned and caught the haft of the mace, stopping it cold. The attacker barely had time to register what had happened when there was a sickening crunch as Blackheart's fist collided with the man's face with enough force to crush his nose and send him head over heels to land unconscious in the dirt. Blackheart looked at Jam and gave him a toothy, malice filled smile. "Next," he growled.

Nearly all of the men started in for Blackheart at once. Generally ten on one were not good odds in a fight. But also generally it wasn't one highly skilled and angry worgen in a fight against ten unskilled street thugs who were barely armed. Even properly equipped, they would have been hard pressed to best him. He was a fury of punch, kicks, slicing claws, and snapping teeth. The first man came at him with a club in a lumbering overhand strike. He was soon writing in pain with deep claw marks down his chest. The next man in line fared little better as he was sent flying out of the group holding his profusely bleeding arm. Blackheart was doing his best not to kill any of these men, but he didn't think any of them should be able to walk away from this.

Blackheart and the group of men surrounding him eventually moved away from Wayne and Jonie. Jam saw this as an opportunity and pulled two of the men away and headed towards his two original targets. With the way the worgen was tearing up the rest of his group he knew he would need to hurry. Wayne saw the men coming and stepped up to place himself once more between the threat and his sister. He raised his fist and took on a fighting stance. Perhaps they might best him still, but three on one the odds were significantly better for him than it previously had been.

Jam laughed as he saw Wayne preparing to fight. He'd be unconscious soon enough and then Jonie would be all his. His laughter was cut short, however, as something flashed by in the darkness and temporarily blinded him. Once his vision had returned he noticed one of his thugs was gone. A quick look around and he spotted the man, laying a few feet away and jerking rather violently with smoke coming from his back. Before he had time to question what had happened, the same thing happened again to the other man, leaving him convulsing and laying on top of the other one.

When he looked around to determine what had happened to the two, he saw a figure coming up the street towards him that was nearly as startling as the worgen had been. A lone female draenei was walking towards them. Her fists were arcing with lightning and she looked very angry.

Blackheart was finishing up this little group when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up from the lightning discharge. He knew then that Kalara had entered the fight. After taking care of the ones next to Jonie she had blasted a couple more that he had been fighting. He still had one man hanging off his back with his arms around Blackheart's neck trying to choke him. He'd saved that one for last as he was effectively little more than extra weight while Blackheart was moving around. He reached over his shoulder to grab the man who quickly let go once Blackheart's claws sunk into him. The man was soon flying through the air and came to a quick stop when he thudded into the wall on the opposite side of the alley. That only left one man still on his feet: Jam.

The thug realized quite quickly that he was surrounded. He tried to make a break for it before Jonie stepped in front of him. Any thoughts he had of just running her down ended when she held up a rather large knife level with his chest. He turned away from her and came face to chest with Blackheart.

The worgen picked him up by the throat and slammed him into the alley wall. Jam winced in pain as his skull rebounded painfully off of the bricks and he would have gasped if he could have pulled air through the vice like grip Blackheart had on his throat. The worgen leaned in and gave the man a glare of pure malice before speaking to him.

"I'm going to say this once, and I'll say it slowly so your damaged brain can understand it. If you ever come near Wayne, Jonie, or any of their family again I will find you…"at this point Blackheart unsheathed one of his claws and cut a gouge into the brick wall next to Jam's head, "and I will make it so you can never bother a woman again. Do I make myself clear?"

The man gave a barely perceptible nod before gasping for breath as he was released. Jam slid down the wall and struggled to crawl over the bodies of his comrades before making a break out of one end of the dark alley. Blackheart surveyed his handiwork, looking over the groaning and unconscious thugs, before he turned to Kalara saying, "Would you make sure none of them are going to die?" She gave him a nod before going to check on them.

When Blackheart turned back to his siblings he saw that they were looking at him in fear. He could smell it coming off of them. He let out a sigh as he realized that he knew this was a likely outcome. He could only hope that once they knew who he was they would be able to relinquish their hold on that emotion.

He took a step towards them and Wayne took the knife from Jonie, brandishing it at the worgen. Blackheart could see he only had his sister's safety in mind. "Put that away before you hurt someone with it."

Wayne looked towards Jonie then back at Blackheart before lowering the knife slightly. "What do you want," he asked.

"You had both better sit down before I tell you."

His brother's eyes narrowed for a moment. "Sit down? Why should we sit down?"

Blackheart looked to Jonie then. "Please sit down? Just… trust me. I did just help you both out, so the least you could do is sit down and listen to what I have to say."

A confused look crossed Jonie's face then. Something about the worgen was familiar, startlingly so, but she couldn't place it. Even as she took a seat on a barrel in the alley and pulled Wayne down next to her she still couldn't figure it out. She felt as though she should know this worgen, but she'd never spoken to one before. It was possible she had talked to him in his human form, but somehow she didn't think so.

Wayne said, "Alright, we're sitting. Now will you tell us what you want?"

Blackheart felt Kalara come to his side then. She looked at him and said, "They'll all be… well they're not gonna be fine but they won't die. Go ahead love." She gave his arm a squeeze and backed away a step.

Before Wayne and Jonie had time to question anything, Blackheart said, "I guess the easiest thing to do is to just show you." In a flash of light Blackheart stood before them in his human form.

Both of his siblings stared at him for a few moments before Jonie gasped and covered her mouth. Wayne recovered a few moments later, whispering, "Kaleth?" He clearly, and with good reason, thought he was seeing things. When Blackheart nodded he slid off the barrel and onto his knees. Blackheart went to help him up but was intercepted by Jonie as she almost tackled him in a hug, letting out huge sobs as she clung to him. He hugged her back, something he hadn't been able to do in far too long. After a few moments Wayne climbed to his feet and joined in.

"I thought… we thought… well everyone thought you were dead." Wayne finally stammered out. "What happened?"

Blackheart hugged his siblings close before pushing them to arm's length. "How about if you take me home to mom and I'll tell all of you?"