"How can we wake him up without it seeming intentional?"

"It shouldn't be difficult. He's been snoring like that the whole time; I don't think he's even really coherent or remotely alert right now."

"I don't want to risk him figuring out that we disrupted his sleep on purpose and then think us poor hosts."

"We helped him out of the bushes and gave him food, water and a place to sleep. He has no room to complain."

"Anjula..."

"No, really, I thought we weren't going to burden ourselves. There has to be a way to wake him up politely."

The couple glanced over at Triton again from their vantage point near the far edge of the clearing. At Anjula's urging, Melas had cast his spell for edible tubers to grow from the ground behind a few trees so Triton wouldn't see the extra food sprouting up. She felt no remorse; the man was obviously well off among other townies, and there was no reason for them to deplete their stocks of food for his sake. He'd be fine and they needed to eat once he was gone, as she explained it.

After only a few seconds of hesitation Melas agreed and concealed the spot where their food would grow, knowing that they couldn't spare much and Triton was rather bold in his requests despite his obviously thinking himself rather humble. It didn't take them long to finish all their chores around the campsite - all the tasks had become easy and ritualized - and the two found themselves with little to do when there was an outsider right on top of their earthen hut.

Tired of the monotony, Anjula loosened up one of the leather strings holding together a beaded tribal charm decorated in bird skulls that hung from her chest piece on occasion. From around the corner of the hut, she could stand and shake it without being seen as well as pretend she was simply tending to some work inside. After a good few rattles, their guest began to stir and she disappeared into the hut while Melas began bundling up sticks he found in the clearing in order to look busy. The couple hadn't eaten any meat in a few days anyway, so kindling a fire once they were alone together might not be a bad idea anyway. It would. A fitting meal at the end of a night they'd largely lost while watching their bumbling charge sleep.

Under the last bit of starlight, Triton opened his eyes and rolled around a bit. "Hmm...oh...hello? Melas?" He turned just as his host came from around the corner and wiped the dirt from his hands. "The stars look dim, for how long was I out?"

"Maybe five hours or so, a decent amount of sleep. Not bad just before a journey," Melas replied, subtly hinting at the guest's impending exit from the camp. "Do you feel better than when we found you?"

"Most definitely. And with a nice new pair of shorts, I should be presentable now." Triton stretched his back lazily and motioned toward his hemmed shorts that only looked slightly odd against his long jacket and high boots, none of which were suited to hiking in the woods. "It's almost daybreak...I won't be able to see well once the sun rises..."

"My mate packed three shares of rations inside the leaves of an elephant ear plant; they're all yours. Onions, nuts and a lot of berries - they'll last even beyond when you reach the next town."

When Triton forced a smile and nodded, a bit of guilt nipped at Melas. Not for Triton specifically; he really would be fine on his own from the look of him. However, it was still considered poor form to try and ditch a guest, even a somewhat needy and presumptuous one. His face didn't change from its blank expression though, and Triton quickly understood that he wouldn't be sleeping at the campsite during the day as well, and would need to find his way to the nearest highway.

"Do you know where I left my bag? I wasn't paying attention, I was so exhausted."

"Just around the side, near the chairs. Don't worry, we wouldn't let it out of our sight," Melas replied while handing over the bag. Anjula was still busy inside the hut - or pretending to be, at least - so Melas decided to extend his offer of further help just to get it over with. "You know, Triton, since I'll already walk with you to find the highway, I can also help you finish this gathering quest of yours. Your appearance has helped reminded me that I have certain tasks to take care of...the least I could do in return is to help you take care of your own task."

As it had many times before, a combination of relief and embarrassment made its way onto Triton's face. He didn't seem able to looks Melas in the eye, and his voice almost sounded like he was acting. "Yes, well, no, yes, it's very polite of you to offer. I'd hate to be a burden though, and you know, it's just a simple gathering quest. So, I mean, it's your call." Triton accepted his travel bag but didn't make a move to start walking away just yet. In his eyes shone a faint hope that made him look both like a humble traveler and a mooch.

"If it's simple, then it won't be a burden for me to help. What is it that you need to gather?"

"That does make sense then, doesn't it!" Triton answered a little too quickly. "It's an herb quest, but the person didn't quite explain what they need; they just showed me a picture. It's a...fungal...sort of thing. It glows light blue at night but looks normal in the day; apparently it's so new that it hasn't been named quite yet."

"I don't recall seeing such things before...but I'll help you check the area before we reach the highway. Perhaps it will be the motivation I need to start crossing off items on my own to do list." When Triton shouldered his bag, Melas noticed that there was an empty looking waterskin strapped on to it. "We have some water we can spare inside. Would you like me to fill that for you while I go get the rations?"

Not missing a bit, Triton had already removed the waterskin and extended it before the question had even been finished. "I wouldn't want to impose, but if you're offering!" he beamed.

"Alright, just a minute and we can go."

Looping around the side of the mound, Melas found Anjula already frowning and holding up the rations inside of the hut. "Our water, too?" she asked in Zandali. A rhetorical question, but her point was clear.

"Water is easier for us than food; the wisps will help with that. Look, it's just a precaution; the more we help him now, the less room he has to request anything else."

Unsatisfied but silenced, Anjula handed over the rations and a Melas filled the waterskin before turning to join their guest outside. "When you're a good distance away I'll try to catch something we can cook," she whispered after him.

Triton looked rather happy to have a bag full of food and a full container of water. Even if he was sated, however, Melas didn't want to give him a chance to ask for anything more before they left and already began walking out of the clearing. "You came from this direction, correct?" he asked while pointing northwest toward the nearest highway.

"What? Oh, correct, but the fungus I was looking for is said to be straight north - close to where you saved me. Maybe we should walk in that direction first."

Ever audacious, Triton began to change course northbound without even waiting for a response from his host, simply assuming that he knew better where to go despite the fact that he'd previously gotten himself lost and entangled in a bush. Not finding any reason to delay, Melas changed course along with him but still found himself largely leading the way as the two men wound in and out of the densely packed trees and left the clearing behind them.

"What sort of information do you have about these fungi you're supposed to collect for...an alchemist, I assume?"

Stumbling over roots and rocks in the underbrush, Triton struggled to keep up and speak at the same time. "Another merchant, actually. I didn't ask for details; he wants those fungi, and he isn't from here; I assume he intends to sell them elsewhere but I didn't feel it my place to ask."

Ironic, Melas thought to himself. "Right. So how much did he tell you? Do you know what type of terrain they grow in?"

For a moment, Triton continued keeping an almost moderate pace as the two of them hiked, perhaps deep in thought. Or simply struggling to answer as he finally seemed to gain a bit of coordination in his legs. "From the soil is what he told me. Some human fellow from Duskwood, by the way, and a real class act. He told me that the fungi appear to grow from the soil, usually beneath wet leaves and pine needles, and they tend to grow in trenches; bears would eat any laying about in the open." The two of them hiked for a few more minutes before Triton seemed to remember another detail. "They only glow at night, apparently; dawn is approaching and it will be a little tougher to locate any without the glow," he added.

"I think we may already have reached that point. It's been a few thousand years since I've set up camp in these parts, but I vaguely remember having seen a small ditch growing due to water erosion from the rain that pools there. We couldn't be more than half an hour away if we slightly alter our course west and northwest."

Triton's silver eyes lit up even more. "That would also take me - us, within less than that amount of time to the highway. In fact...I think this fellow may have mentioned such a location; I wish I had a better sense of direction." For a second Triton tried to hurry, but his boots were made of velvet and felt and he simply tripped himself up even more before slowing down.

"Don't worry, I'm already out," Melas reassured him as the two men adjusted their course. "Even if it takes a bit of time, I'll remain out there until we can find these things before sending you on your way."

"I...really appreciate what you're doing for me," Triton huffed and puffed. "I'm just glad that the opportunity won't go to waste."

Melas didn't quite understand what his guest meant by that, but Triton obviously wasn't as eloquent a speaker as he thought himself to be. Instead of asking for clarification, the semi-nomad just nodded and continued leading the way toward the ditch he remembered from a long time ago.

Due to Triton's need to stop once to rest and another time to relieve himself, it took them a bit longer to reach the spot Melas remembered the beginning of water eating a crease into the soil previously. Just as he'd expected, the erosion had continued every time it rained for the few thousand years since he'd last been there. The north end of the former ditch had gradually been filled by leaves, pine cones and shifting soil such that the ground had become level again; the south end had deepened and expanded to the point where it looked more like a trench than a ditch.

At least twenty feet deep and steeply inclining in both sides, the trench was full of moldy logs, mud, rocks and copious amounts of wet leaves at the bottom. The sides had a few tree roots jutting out but other than that, it would be a sheet climb on loose dirt both in and out, or a difficult trudge through thick mud from the south end. Such a dank place was bound to be filled with fungus and it certainly wasn't dangerous, but entering and exiting would be time consuming and frustrating for sure.

The two of them both looked the trench over from the edge, sizing it up. Leather creaked as Triton involuntarily gripped the strap of his travel bag a little more tightly, his anxiety clear. From the corner of his eye, Melas took another look at his guest. Triton's clothes were expensive and would be ruined even further if he marched through the mud; were he to climb down, the outfit would become dirty and torn. An internal sigh played out inside Melas' head as he realized that, having offered to help, he couldn't reasonably expect Triton to get in there and do the dirty work himself.

His own clothing consisted of his two claw gauntlets and two boots and a kilt made from thick, protective fur and hide from a stag he'd hunted a decade before, during the waiting period between his mate's current incarnation and her last. Were he to march through the mud, it might be nearly ruined as well, though it could possibly be washed at a river. Dirt and sharp rocks and roots, however, wouldn't hurt them one bit.

When Triton remained silent for once, Melas knew the man was probably thinking the same thing and relented. "Alright, I have a plan. It might be best if I descend into the trench."

"I...regretfully concur," Triton replied.

"I can climb down the side of the trench. I'll need somebody to look out while I'm down there, and to provide an aerial view in case I miss anything."

"I'm an excellent spotter! You know, I worked at the horse races in the Wetlands for a period. My keen eyesight settled many disputed races, it did."

This time, Melas had already begun to move before Triton even finished his sentence. Rather than damp, the soil on the sides of the trenches was rather dry, which was worse in some ways. Had it been damp soil, it would have held together better; dry as it was, large amounts of dirt and dust flew as Melas dug his fingers into the soil to lower himself. Footholds were difficult to find, but the distance was short and he dropped onto a log once he was halfway down. The wood creaked beneath his weight, but his balance was perfect after having lived in the wilderness for so long. A few clumps of dirt hit the bottom around him as he held still just to scan the area. He hadn't seen any hiding places for snakes or spiders, but checking again was always the first order of business.

Once he felt comfortable, he called up to his guest while continuing to look around in vain. "Do you see anything?" he asked.

The sound of a bag zipping open echoed from atop the ledge overlooking the trench. "Let me get out my periscope. Did I mention that I was once hired to negotiate a treaty between the Bloodsail Buccaneers and the Explorer's League? True story." He continued fiddling around inside his travel bag as Melas began to lose hope that they'd find anything. "Found it!"

Looking up, the light of daybreak trickled in through the canopy and illuminated Triton's figure in an odd way. The sun was no ally to the night elves and from his vantage point below, it interfered with his vision somewhat. Vaguely, he could see the outline of Triton's upper body, his travel bag and what appeared to be a ball.

"Triton, how is that going to help - HEY!"

Melas leaped as Triton hurled the orb next to him, intentionally missing and causing it to shatter against the log. Before Melas could react, an absolutely inordinate amount of gas escaped from the shattered shards of the glass orb. The sheer volume of the stuff inside of it seemed impossible, as if it was reacting to the oxygen around it. The gas billowed and rose while rapidly filling the trench, and Melas instinctively leapt onto the side of the trench, digging his fingers into the soil. It was solid but not enough to support his massive body, and he felt himself slide down toward the mud.

Triton shrieked in fear as Melas actually made it up one step. "Lying knave!" Melas growled as he thought of which part of the smaller man's body he'd break first, all the goodwill earned over the previous night draining out of his mind in a matter of seconds.

Dirt spilled onto Melas' head, forcing him to look down as he climbed. There was no way to look up lest it fall into his eyes but he could hear Triton scraping a stick against the ledge and knew his supposed guest was trying to bury him. Just as Melas was about to leap and tear the man's throat out, the first billows of the gas reached his nostrils and caused him to gag. Like clockwork, a sizeable chunk of dirt fell in his head; it didn't hurt and there was no way the trench could be filled that quickly, but Triton was apparently trying. Panic replaced rage in Melas' heart as he felt his pulse accelerate without any sort of escalation, alongside the searing pain in his nose and wind pipe. He gagged again, and this time his foot slipped against the loose dirt due to the lack of foothold. Melas fell part of the way down even further, and Triton continued dumping more dirt in him.

"Sulfur dichloride and ethylene. Both the gas and container are goblin made - they refer to it as mustard gas," Triton explained clinically as he seemed to calm down from the initial shock of thinking Melas would leap out. "I'm sure the pain is tolerable for someone of your talents, but eventually, you will fall."

Frustrated, furious and frantic, Melas gave up on trying to climb straight out and tried to balance on the logs hanging over the mud below. The south end of the trench had the stuff piled knee high but it still formed an incline leading out and he was getting nowhere trying to climb straight up the trench's sides. Cupping his hand over his mouth, he fought the dizziness and pressure in his head as he waded through the gas cloud that was now almost as long as the trench itself and nearly as high as his head. Once out, he could easily dispatch his guest turned adversary, but first he needed to get out.

"It was rather convenient that you led me to such a prime location. It was difficult for me to scout the area, what with having to flee the authorities and all," the voice of his new adversary echoed, though it sounded increasingly far away. "I only had one of these and I had to make it count. It also helps that I'm not too far away from your campsite."

Anger mixed with dismay as Melas felt his body grow heavy, and he clawed at the sides of the trench to at least pull himself above the gas cloud. His lungs felt like they were about to burst and his skin crawled as it rebelled against the fumes trying to enter his pores. Instinct took over and rather than worry about whatever the other man was saying, he only tried to drag himself toward the south end of the trench against his body's rapidly failing system.

"It's not right that I spend so many millennia disrespected in the menial job of a barrow den guard. Eventually I drifted away and actually enjoyed my time during the Long Vigil, but with the world so open now, those of my profession fear the sentinels even less; this planet is ripe for the plunder."

Melas opened his mouth without thinking to voice his rage. "Curse-" was all that came out, and he regretted it right away as he doubled over due to the gas that had entered his throat. His eyes watered until he couldn't see and the gas cloud raised above his head. Even as it began to dissipate, he could feel the effect as his muscles stopped responding to his brain's motor strip.

"Finally, a right will be wronged. That medallion you left back at camp won't go to waste; it deserves to be used, and I deserve to use it. I'm going to go to Moonglade, and finally our people will understand that Heralath the Liar is not a failure!"

Whatever the man's name truly was, his footsteps walking away were the last thing his former host heard. Despite the fact that dawn's light had broken, the world began to darken as Melas' pain drifted away. The anger never decreased as defiance served as fuel to the bitter end.

The last image in his mind was the natural charcoal grey color of Anjula's dreadlocks as the latest incarnation of the timeless woman faded in and out of his memory. In that trench, on that morning, Melas Bowleaf died.