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A Struggle

By: Tiber1978



Choices, Choices.... Magdalia tossed and turned in her bunk in Shattrath City on the Aldor Rise. She would flip to one side, let out a sigh, just to turn over and open her eyes to check the amount of daylight visible. After fighting with herself, trying to sleep for over an hour, she laid on her back, frustrated, staring up at the ceiling. She looked around the darkened room of the inn and tried to map out her surroundings before she moved. She climbed slowly out of the bed, trying to not wake anyone. She was rogue, so she was able to move well in the darkness and shadow, but at this point, her exhaustion made it hard to use the slightest bit of stealth.

She wrapped her cloak around herself as she walked out of the inn and onto the rise. She walked quietly to the edge and sat down, staring over the city. Her hair was disheveled so she tried to straighten it with her hands as she looked down at the city below her and listened to sounds of the night and the fountains constantly trickling water around behind her. She pulled her hair back and tied it back so that her pale face was visible and the multiple points of moonlight reflected on it. Her expression was confused but saddened at the same time. Her eyes caught sight of her hands and the stains of blood and how rough they had become over the past months disgusted her.

She looked up and gazed at the sky - the sky she found so beautiful and so terrifying at the same time. She did not long to return home to the forest of Elwynn because the sky was always so difficult to gaze at there. As she studied the features of the sky of Shattrath, her eyes began to glisten with tears. Ever since the last Sunday she had been the same, felt the same, and not been able to sleep. She played it out in her head for the thousandth time:

**********

She arrived at the Virtue Date Auction, very excited to be back in the guild and happy to see all her old friends again. She was also nervous of the possibility that she would find Lance there.

Lance, her husband, had written to her a little more than a week before, telling her that he felt they had drifted apart and it would be better to just "call it quits". At least, that's how the letter sounded to her. After receiving this letter, she was very distraught, not knowing how to respond. She decided not to write back because she was too angry with him to do so, and too desperate to see him again before they could ever say goodbye. She used her connections and found out that her husband was now a member of a guild that she had once been a member of: Virtue. She had followed the Shadowsong family there, but left when Najila (her good friend and financier) moved on to a place where she was more useful.

Sure enough, there he was, her husband. She glared for a moment but allowed her anger to cool. She ran off to the bank to grab something nicer to wear than her pants she had been wearing in battle. She quickly changed into her lovely black dress that fell just right over her curves. She gazed around the room and try to find someone who could tell her who all was going up for auction. The moment she was about to ask, someone else did. There were many fine members and officers of Virtue going up for auction, including Lance. Her mind raced with the possibilities. She could bid on him, and win the date with him and finally, she would have a chance to talk to him and he would have no choice but to join her.

Unable to handle the stress of the situation, she began to drink, as she usually did. She reached into her bag that hung at her side and eyed the amount of money she had and then pulled out her flask of grog and took a swig. As each contestant stepped onto the stage, she would listen to what they had to offer and she would bid what she could afford, still saving enough to hopefully win Lance. She drank in between each one and between each bid. She was completely and utterly drunk. She had not won anyone so far and Lance was up. The bids rose very quickly and she was singing the song she made up for grog when she cleared her throat before shouting out a bid just higher than the last bidder. Suddenly, the bids stopped. Her heart leaped, she was going to win. She heard the auctioneer say that she had won and she could barely contain herself (but she did). She smirked at Lance but said nothing. After the auction ended, he asked if she had the time for the date right then. She told him "Yes," and they both traveled to Shattrath City.

She kept the conversation between them very "professional." She had won him for three hours and he came with the prize of twenty healing potions to use in battle. The potions were just a bonus; it felt so good to be beside him once more. It was just he and she and it felt so right. He helped her with some things she needed to complete and then he asked, "Well, what would you like to do for the next hour and a half?"

At this point, they were at the inn in Telaar and she only thought for a second and then found the nearest spot to sit down. "I want to sit and talk." Shock and other hidden emotions swept across his face. He was not interested in talking inside the inn, for what reason, she didn't know. They found a place atop a hill just outside the inn and talked for a long while.

The exact words between them escape her, but they were angry at some points, sad the next, and then angry again. The conversation ended as he mounted his gryphon and shouted back something like, "Take the time to think about it, if you love me or not, and when you decide, let me know."

**************

She hated the thought that she now had to decide if she loved her husband or not. Truth-be-told, she did not know. When Lance reached the Outlands, the communication between them shortened to the point that they were only writing letters. The time that each of them had did not add up to meeting face to face, and if they did, it was awkward and rushed. She did not know if she loved him, because she felt like she did not know him anymore. She had grown up so much since she reached the Outlands and she looked at him differently because she was different. She'd had so many more experiences, though it did not seem to mature her at all.

Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed upwards and remembered all her fond memories with Lance. She thought back on the first time they met, the first promises they made to each other, the fun that they had, and the vows they made on their wedding day. It all seemed like a dream at this point. Something that happened so long ago was now just a hazy thought in the back of her mind. She whispered to herself in the night, "If I really loved him, I would not be crying over the memories like I would never have them again, I would be giggling about all the future possibilities."

"

She grunted at herself and blinked hard to get the tears out of her eyes. "How could he think that giving up was the only way to deal with this problem? How could he...after all we've been through? Wait...is it the memories I miss, or is it him? I cannot understand my own thoughts and feelings. What is love, anyway? I was so happy to see him, and even when I was fighting with him, I wanted nothing more than to touch him." She sighs, remembering her tone happier, "Oh that kiss I stole, and I think that changed everything inside me. He gave in, it was only for a moment, but he gave into it. He liked it as much as I, if not more."

She bit her lip as her mind raced through these possibilities. She wiped the tears from her face with her rough hands and flinched a little as they scratched her skin. She shook her head and adjusted so that her cloak was more tightly wrapped around her. She looked over both shoulders to reassure herself that she was completely alone as she talked to herself.

"He said that he still loved me, and he wanted me, but only if he was the only one I loved and devoted myself to. Wasn't that what our vows were all about? I mean, I don't blame him...I know that there is no way for him to know or tell that I still love him or even care for him with the way I've been treating him and the lack of contact I have made. I hate my need for defending myself! He was becoming distant, so I pulled all the way back, and now I don't know where to go from here..."

She started tapping one fist on her forehead as she muttered, calling herself names. She felt ridiculous that she even had to think about it. She had made her vows, she had put the effort into it. She just had to return to that. She had to remember what it was like to be with him, to kiss him, to hold him, and know that being in his arms was the safest place in the world. Her arrogance had gotten in the way of her love for her husband. How could she have been so blind?

She kicked back her heels, hitting the side of the wall that stood so tall in this city. She finally allowed a smile to creep onto her face as she saw the slightest light coming from the horizon as daylight was on its way. She adjusted herself and let go of her cloak to stand up. She shivered and quickly replaced the cloak as she turned back towards the inn. Her smile grew as she approached the mailbox and pulled a piece of paper from her bag to write a letter to him. She told him when she was available next and asked for his response. She slipped it into the mailbox quickly and bit her lip to keep from giggling with joy as she headed back to bed to finally be able to rest in peace.

As he flew away from her, he clenched his fists around the reins of his gryphon. He felt infuriated by his circumstances, by his mixed feelings of bitterness and affection. It left a bad taste in his mouth, like sagefish stirred in with underspore pod. He knew how he felt. He had always known how he felt for her. He remembered when they'd met, and the many things they had done and accomplished. The memory of when he'd started out in Westfall felt closer in time than it truly was. He remembered when it was she that was assisting him, helping him fend off the Defias mercenaries. But now, he felt an affectionate responsibility to her, an obligation, both as a Paladin of Light, and as a citizen of the Alliance, to protect her. Granted...his feelings of attraction and love had influenced his potentially overzealous desire to keep her free of harm and trapped tight in the grasp of safety.

As he traveled over Halaa, he remembered the last time he'd spent time with her. He hadn't been able to see her for so long, and as he reminisced about fighting for the Timbermaw Hold, for their allegiance and favor, he had felt his heart soar with the possibility of reliving those memories, but this time, he would be with the one he loved. But soon after arriving, he recalled, Najila's husband had shown up. It wasn't that he held a dislike for him, for the night elves, or even for druids. He had just wanted to spend time with Magdalia and...be close to her, be alone with her. Was it so much to ask for one night, for an hour, alone with his wife? But apparently, it was, because instead of helping Magdalia eliminate the Winterfall tribe members, he found himself competing for slaughter against Najila's husband. It was a serious blow to his ego that Magdalia felt that he would be unable to fend off the tribe members and help her eliminate them without the power of Elune or nature, or the power of a druid. He knew that many of Tragenn's abilities and skills made him a better asset to Magdalia's goals in Winterspring, but that didn't make the pill any easier to swallow.

He remembered how his bitterness and resent had grown like an open, infected wound, eating at him from within. He had wanted to be alone with her, helping her, not competing for slaughter, and oddly enough...for his wife's attention. The grudge he held against druids was trivial and ulterior at best. Over the course of his life, he had been swindled and conned by druids of both the Alliance...and of the Horde. For a long time he had stubbornly held the belief, that any druid of any race was not to be trusted, with a thorium fist. He didn't have such a short-sighted perspective or belief now, but that bitterness, the bitterness of being outdone, of being unable to measure up, felt inflamed and exacerbated that night. It had happened before. There were times, that he only vaguely recalled, when the night elves had been better at protecting and assisting her than he knew he could ever hope to be. With Magdalia drifting away from him, and his heart filled with bitterness, he had written her that night. He'd stopped, on his flight back to the spawning glen, to write her. He didn't feel any longer that her heart belonged to him, and only to him, that her affections were his and his alone. He had finally overcome the denial and embraced the realization that Magdalia's affection and love for the night elves was not something he could overcome. He did not want to only be a part of her life, and he did not want her to be merely a fraction of his own.

She had been his everything. Virtually nothing had come before her. His priorities had always been blinded by his affection for her, and he remember that he had even left others in the lairs of true evil, in dungeons, if only to just be with her for a moment. Now, so much later, his perspectives had shifted. He felt an obligation to the Aldor, to the Naaru, and to the expedition and the Sha'tar. He did not want a fraction or a part. He wanted it all. If he was going to be in her life and see her and be around her, he knew he would not be able to bear it if her love for him, her affections, seemed to waiver and vacillate. It was not a gray issue for him. Love, had never been gray. It was black or white. Either she loved him, as she had so long ago, or her feelings of love and affection had been worn away or taken, be it by time, by distance...perhaps the very Light itself had felt apt to catalyze this change of heart, for whatever reason it saw fit. He did not know. What he did know, was he would not sacrifice his happiness and his new priorities for a woman who would not be willing to do the same for him. For a woman...who no longer loved him. He would not wait around for her to figure out if she loved him or if she loved...someone else. He wouldn't stand by and watch her gaze fall on another individual and desperately petition for her attention and love as he watched her slip farther and farther away. He'd given her a task. "Make a decision: do you love me? or not..."

As his gryphon touched down in the spawning glen, he felt a new feeling of motivation. The giants in the glen were an enemy to Sporregar. He felt no remorse in unleashing his bitterness, his frustration, his hate, his enmity, on the beasts and creature of the glen. As he cut through, collecting herbs and more worthless objects, he felt his powers imbued by embracing the feelings he now felt overcome with. He would wait for her word, for her decision. But it would be a long time before he would be able to leave the glen and make it to a mailbox and receive her response...

Another day during Brewfest, Magdalia sits at the bar, listening and watching the festivities. She has lost count of how many times she heard the nearby drunk dwarfs yell, "Here's looking at me bum!" She smirks to herself after hearing it again and goes back to her souvenir stein in front of her. She looks down into the liquid seeing a small reflection of herself, and her smirk fades. She inhales the aroma of the brew and then puts the stein to her lips and finishes drinking what was left. As she passes the stein back to the bartender to be refilled, she slumps in her chair rather saddened, wishing Lance were there.

Her speech is slurred due to the fact she has had way too much drink for it to only be about noon. She doesn't talk out loud, but she definitely hears her own words ringing in her head as she passes over her thoughts.

"I still can't believe that it's fixed. I couldn't be happier. Finally, Lance and I are back together, as it should be, and there is no more doubt between us. True, he does make a point of saying that my actions will speak louder than my words, but I know I can prove how much I really do love him with my every waking moment. I just want so badly to be near him. Even though everything is fixed between us, I still never see him. I don't want us to drift again, so I am clinging to him. I wonder if he's been annoyed by how many letters I have stuffed in the mailbox for him. I miss him so much..."

She looks around as her stein is handed back to her, sloshing on the bar. She peers over the crowd of people, hoping to see a familiar face, but there isn't one. She takes sips of her brew as she continues going over her thoughts.

"How wonderful it is to be married...to know that he will always be there for me. I mean, not every rogue has their own warrior of the Light looking out for them. I know that if I ever got in any trouble at all, Lance would be there to make sure I was safe. Oh...I had almost forgotten the time that the Bloodsail Buccaneers found me and stripped me of all possessions. How embarrassing...having to find some linen cloth to cover myself until I could get to Stormwind. Lance found me hiding in a bush with nothing but some cloth draped over me. He was so wonderful and comforting...brought me food, water, and potions to get my spirit up. He even bought some clothes for me to wear until I could get all my stuff back. I think it was even he who helped me get back on that ship, kill their captain, and go through to cargo to find my possessions."

She was gulping the brew down by now and losing her balance on the chair she was sitting on. She finished the stein and made sure it was empty before finding a place for it in her bags. While looking through the bags, she came across her various notes on some paper she had made about her tasks she had been given. "So many things to do in Terrokar forest and I don't think I'm strong enough to handle all of them on my own." She sorted them out on the table between which ones she could handle and which ones she could not. The pile of achievable tasks was far smaller. She bit her lip and hiccuped at the same time. After sitting there blinking for a moment, waiting for the stars to fade from her eyes, she stared back at the blurry pages.

"If only Lance and I could have time to go through these..."

Lance frowned as the dark, stormy expanse of Netherstorm loomed before him. He groaned inwardly. He hadn't come back to this place until now, and for good reason. While it was the only place to find Netherbloom, other than the auction house, he generally didn't have much need for it. As long as he had mana to spare, he could call on the power of the Light to save his life and regenerate his health. He didn't need life-giving, healing potions. But, he had promised Mags a full stack of such healing potions, and he had never been one to go back on his word. Because of the vicious landscapes, he glided low over the cracked, dead land beneath him to expedite his search for each bloom, one after another.

Oh how he missed Mags. He wished that he could have been with her. He felt his feelings renewed, his desire for her presence like the most pleasant disease, like falling back into relapse. Even his desire to enter Karazhan, and earn favor with the factions of outland, were pushed to the back of his mind, seconded with his narrowed foresight. He wanted to return to Terrokar and the Zangarmarsh and help her grow stronger. He knew that his ability to assist her progression was limited, the same way he knew helping a creature hatch from its egg, only deprived it of the strength it gained through overcoming the experience unaided. He wanted so desperately to help her, but the strength he had found in reaching his peak now seemed to prevent him from having the one thing, the only thing, that he found himself wanting.


A Struggle



As he worked to pull another bloom from its rooting, he thought about her, wondered where she was...what she was doing. When would he see her again? And when he saw her, what then would they do? What would he be capable of doing that would actually help her more than it truly held her back?

He felt a familiar urge, a primitive feeling rising inside of him with this frustration that seemed to ebb at his composure, slowly, subtlety swaying his mood into a patientless, irritable demeanor. As he felt this frustration, this anger with himself, with his power, with how much the Light itself seemed unable to aid him in pulling his one desire back into his grasp, he dismounted his gryphon, and lead his search for his plants on foot, knowing that searching this way would set him against the mindless creatures of the storm that he would inevitably defeat. With this change of his method, the subtle altering in his steps to search, he felt a satiating satisfaction that, though empty in and of itself, could distract him from the more annoying frustrations that seemed to vex his now fracturing mind.

Within the Terrokar forest, Magdalia slays another beast in her path. She glances back as she pulls out some netherweave to wipe her daggers clean. She sees a trail of dead wolves' bodies as well as other creatures that she has slain. She cuts off the tail of the wolf she has freshly slain and adds it to the collection she has in her bag. She sighs looking by a nearby tree and seeing some herbs she knew that Lance would have loved to pick. She looks up and over her other shoulder now, and sees the nearby stronghold and starts to walk towards it, reaching the road. She hands over her collection of wolf tails only to be told she has to now kill a wolf so tough that the very man who wants it killed could not do it himself.

Her confidence raised by the thought of her stealth abilities she sets out towards where this wolf should be found. As she reaches the stretch of forest where it roams, she spots a nearby tree that is very inviting. She looks around to see if anyone is watching her and quickly climbs into the tree. She climbs through the branches until she is within its leaves and she can see spots of sunlight gleaming through on her. She finds a notch in the limb and leans back on her back reclined in the tree. She stares up through the leaves and sighs to herself day-dreaming...her thoughts wander and rest, of course, on Lance.

She smiles to herself as she pictures him riding up on his charger under her tree, and then snaps out of it quickly when she suddenly almost loses her balance. She looks around quickly, holding snuggly to the limb. She takes a long look down the road in either direction and leans back, folding her hands on her chest. She closes her eyes and thinks again about him. Her thoughts continue with her imagining him climbing up towards her with that ever longing look in his eye. She reaches out for him. Suddenly, she has lost her balance and is losing herself off the branch and barely catches herself by swinging towards the trunk to find another notch. She gasps for air from the surprise of the event and the loss of the image. She slowly climbs down the tree and brushes herself off before heading into the forest to stalk a wolf named Ironjaw.

He looks around at the array of demon corpses, frowning. Now he was just bored. He was still fifteen Netherbloom short...not to mention the twenty Felweed he still needed. He huffed and shook his head. He pulled his hearthstone from his bags as he saw one of the resurrected demons coming towards him. He raised a hand and let his divine shield bubble out around him. He began casting, watching as the demon tried to hurt him, kill him, his infallible protection holding. He grinned deviously as the power of his hearthstone teleported him from Netherstorm, bringing him back to the sanctuary of the Aldor Rise. He ran out of the inn out onto the rise, mounting his gryphon, and flew down to the surface of the city, traveling past Khadgar and the Naaru to the portals of the Alliance. He entered, and made his way into Ironforge. He had enough of his other less expensive herbs in stacks, placing them on the auction house...and buying the remaining reagents for his promised potions. He had promised to deliver...but he had never promised how. He made his way into Tinkertown and purchased the stack of vials, making the potions and sending them to Magdalia. He sighed with relief and then remembered: he now had to wait one whole hour before he could use his hearthstone again. He sat by the mailbox and shut his eyes, hoping to pass the time with a short, quick nap...

He awoke after what felt like a few hours. He groaned loudly, his neck hurting from how oddly he'd slept. He pulled out his hearthstone and made his way back to the Aldor Rise once more.

He was in flight to Hellfire, flying...well, much slower than he would have liked to have been traveling. He felt the power of the dungeon stone calling to him and he submitted to its pull, letting himself be transported to the Hellfire Citadel. He smiled when he saw Mags, blowing her a kiss and winking as he made his way in the Blood Furnace. He felt ready, prepared to face the Furnace once again. Vendetta had made him familiar with the depths of Blood Furnace, and for once, he felt truly confident that he could help Magdalia...but he felt himself slipping, stumbling. He was thankful to have Sanfi and Sharjoom, but he felt awful that his powers seemed to come and go, that his assistance became unreliable and wavering.

He swore to himself, cursing whatever force was vexing him, preventing him, and holding him back. He felt ashamed; was it his rage? His bitter, unbridled fury that had clouded his mind and now inhibited him.

He was happy when they reached the end of the dungeon, when Keli'dan's body lay dead on the floor. He went to Mags, kissed her, and traveled back to the Aldor Bank to sell the goods that were of no use to him...and to regroup. He promised her that he would see her soon and that he loved her before he let his presence fade away...

Magdalia stood proud in the snows of Dun Morogh, slowly stroking the cheek of her new mount - a Brewfest ram. Yes, she had spent so much time on helping out the dwarfs they rewarded her with a new way to get around...in style. She smiled to herself as she pulled herself up onto the saddle and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "I think I'll call you Thunderbrew." The ram snorted in agreement and she tugged on the reins to race back to Ironforge.

She spent the day at the bank trying to sort through all the things she had accumulated that she no longer wished to or needed to keep. Many things were sold to the vendors, others were disenchanted and then she came across a very special item she had almost forgotten was in there...Lance's Symbol of Divinity. She held it close to her and safely put into her bags, knowing she would rather have one less space than be without it in her battles.

Sleep. It was a thing to him, an intangible desire that constantly seemed to evade his grasp. But for now, he had found it. He clung to sleep, his mind holding it as though his very existence would be jeopardized by its departure, by its absence. He dreamt as he slept, hidden in the folds of a bed borrowed from the innkeeper, far away from the Outlands, deep in the folds of Azeroth. He'd not sought shelter for so long, but because it had been so close, he had decided to take advantage of the opportunity to rest. Dun Morogh had more than one such place. Kharanos had been the place his mind had settled on. It was cold, but the bed was warm and soft, safe in the basement of the distillery next to a warm fire.

He remembered her. He did not know...why she had decided to come to him, then, of all times...to visit him: while he was asleep. Ariadne Caron was as beautiful as she had been when he knew her from the orphanage. They'd been young then, fourteen or fifteen, but...she looked older now. Time had added age and years to her appearance, bathed her in experience and bestowed her with wisdom. Her green eyes and long, brown hair were all that she showed to him. He did not know how or why she reached out to him or why...after so long, she came to him.

"Where did you go, Lance? Why...why did you leave me...in that wretched city?"

He could feel her anger...but also...her despair. Her...her emotions seemed to bear down on him like a giant owl beast.

He shook his head. "I...I'm sorry. I was commanded to leave, to go, to travel outside of the city. I was sent away. It was something we both knew would happen. It was an event neither of us could escape. Separation. I came back for you, I returned to the orphanage, to our city...but you had gone. You had left when the matron released you from her hold. How was I supposed to find you? How was I to know...that you had yet to perish?" He shook his head more. "You must leave me, Aria. I...my heart...does not belong to you any longer. I am another's. She is beautiful...confident...reckless. Many things...that you were not. Things...that you will never be, not for me, even if you were to return."

"You need not worry about me, little Lance. I am gone, I have left this plane. I exist in time and space...and in the depths of your heart. Forget about me. Leave me, as you did before. Your talents have grown, your strength has far exceeded expectations, but you've grown into a cold, heartless person. Emotionless. Let the outlands take you, but I will not disappear. I will linger, like a cancer in remission, until the day your soul leaves the physical plane. The Light, the farce of a deity you so desperately worship and cling to, will not save you from your destiny. You will leave her. You will die. You will be...forgotten."

He felts tears rolling down his face as he watched her, her sad, painful expression. Resentment. She resented him for leaving, for leaving her, for living, and for finding happiness without her. He knew that no amount of shame, of regret, of remorse, none of it would satiate the grudge that she held and now planted in him.

The last thing he saw before he awoke was her eyes, her expression. He heard her voice. He heard...the last thought that her apparition decided to plant in him. "The Light...will bless you with the same pain as you left in me. It will take her away, and make you alone."

When he sat up in bed, his shirt was soaked. The shirt...Magdalia had tailored for him. He felt the pain, the remorse, the despair catch up to him. He was crying, sobbing. He had never cried, not even for Magdalia. Even for her, he had shielded himself, hid behind a facade of empty numbness, but with the thought of losing her, with the thought of the things he had done...and not done. It all seemed to catch up to him all at once...and he was not strong enough to resist it on his own. He was grateful that he had come here, had hidden in the basement of the distillery...far away from where anything...anyone...could hear his quiet sobs...

Another day, another bar...Magdalia found herself in the World's End Tavern drinking...again. She sat at the bar just out of smell distance from the nearby ogre who planted himself at the bar as well. She took a few gulps from her mug and slammed it down after thoughts racing through her head. She dropped her head to one side, letting her ebony hair fall all around her face and over her shoulder, cracking her neck. She grunted as it relieved pressured and returned to her mug of brew. She was gulping it as she thought to herself once more about Lance. She was so agitated at him.

She put down the mug and shook her head to the memory of his words to her, the way he treated her. She had this feeling that she would never be good enough. She knew that no matter how hard she worked, no matter how much he accomplished, she would always the inexperienced rogue who needed protecting. Every time she saw him now, she felt she needed to prove something to him. She had to show him how much she was a necessary member to the team. She needed to be there as much as he did. Yes, he was important, but so was she. She did not feel like he was treating her like a teammate, but still like his "pet." A pet that always had to be watched, protected and..."bubbled."

She grunted to herself as she remembered that moment. She finished her mug and slung it back at the bartender and yelled for more as slammed her fist down on the bar so frustrated with him. They were in the crystal complex of Oshu'gun battling the demons there. Yes, these demons were way more powerful than the things she could kill by herself, but she had Lance with her. She knew he could take a beating, so she acted as if Alex were there. She was used to allowing her teammate to take all the punishment as she killed the enemies from behind their backs. This was what she was doing until she gained way too much attention. She was taking on two by herself and Lance had three on him. She was in the process of taking one down while also taking a few shots at the second. She was doing very well but it seemed like a good time for a gulp of healing potion so she took one and felt better. She was more confident now. She went for a killing blow and just as her dagger was about to stab directly into the warlock's chest, she was held back. Her dagger couldn't go any farther. She watched as the two she was fighting ran over to Lance. She looked around her...she was in a protection blessing. She waited for it to vanish and used her frustration to kill every last enemy that was left.

She yelled at him for it, but it didn't seem like enough, because it would not have made a difference. She understood that blessing when they were both about to lose their spirits...but she had nearly full health and he used it. She felt so patronized. It was like he was telling her that she couldn't handle it, that could she not live without his help, that she had to have protection from every measly little hit.

She grabbed the full mug in front of her and gulped it down and then went off to the inn to sleep off her frustration.

It was so very...medicating, to see her. It was like the most wonderful drug. How much better he felt...just holding her. They both held each other, just holding on, their lips occasionally meeting as they kept each other in each other's arms.

He had never cried, never shed a tear...in front of her. He felt completely at a loss, humiliated, by his loss of composure. He had always over-zealously done what he could to be the strong, unyielding individual in their friendship, relationship, and marriage. He wanted so badly to be the strength he felt she needed, the guiding compass driven by the Light and unbiased by logic and reason. But as he held her, as he remembered...the feelings that he had been cursed with in his sleep, been reminded of, the guilt that had been laid at his feet came welling up inside of him. Allied with the powerful emotions of just holding her, he was unable to keep his emotions at bay, to force his eyes to stay dry, to blink the moisture gathering inside it, away, and hide it from her.

He was relieved and disappointed at the same time in that he did not have to explain himself, open the door to whatever complications his past might incorporate into their rekindled love and affections, but his disappointment ebbed at him with how easily she let it go. Did she really see him that way, that...this was normal for him? He said goodbye to her, called away elsewhere and relieved that he was able to...just get away. He didn't want her to see him like this, see him...weak. He knew that she knew that he was not perfect, and he was comfortable with this understanding...but he did not feel safe or secure enough with himself to allow her to truly witness the chaos he felt, exacerbated by her reaction to the glimpse he'd failed to hide from her.

He shut his eyes, backing away from her, and hearthed.

On the dismal shore of some coast in Azeroth, Magdalia stood with her fishing rod extended. She had been there all night and even forgotten where "there" was. She stared blankly at the water, always keeping her eye on the bobber and yanking at the pole each time it would splash. She had really increased this skill and had little care about what she was actually catching. She muttered to herself occasionally trying to figure out what had happened earlier that night. She was with Lance, on a perfect night. The moon was rising on the horizon and the water was glistening. They held each other close and she was at so much peace in his arms. But why had he turned away from her? Why did he appear to have been crying? She had asked him very politely and he quickly denied that anything was wrong. She was so happy to finally have their relationship on solid ground, she did not want to push the issue. It just didn't make sense. Why would he keep something from her? Why couldn't he be completely honest? She knew that he would tell her in his own time if it truly was that important...but she hated not knowing.

The next fish she caught she practically ripped off the line and threw down on the pile. She heard a scoff behind her. Not knowing that anyone was around, she quickly grabbed her dagger, and whirled around. Standing there in front of her was a blood elf. She quickly eyed the shore again and saw that she was on the neutral shore of Stranglethorn and Horde were often seen around here. She looked him up and down before responding, but standing in a defensive stance having dropped her fishing rod and picked up both her daggers aiming them at the elf. He was much taller than she and his hair was golden. His features were very pleasant to look at, as he stood there with a smirk on his face, examining her at the same time. He wore leather and she saw a sword on one hip and a dagger on the other. She gripped her daggers tighter as his eyes followed her body up to her face.

"What? What do you want?" She had no idea if he was stronger than her, but she was not going down without a good fight. He just stood there and smiled larger at her as her expression turned angry. "You can't have my fish or anything else I carry so you can just move along and fish elsewhere." She pulled her dagger back ready to strike when he put his hand up towards her.

"No, no...I mean you no harm..." Her mouth dropped. The only blood elves she had ever met were those on the Scryer Tier in Shattrath. She did not understand why she could understand him. "I was merely admiring you and your..." He pointed to the pile of fish, "great handling of the fish." She glared at him, and looked at her mess of a pile, most of the fish only in pieces.

"I've had a rough night, alright? And who are you to criticize anyway? I didn't say I was an expert."

"Oh, well I know you're not an expert, you're an artisan...I can tell by how you cast."

Her mouth dropped further and she glared harder. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since you walked up and started fishing.." He pointed to a tree up a hill. "I usually sit there most nights in the shadows enjoying the sunset and I fell asleep and your fishing woke me." He shook his head grinning at her with her mouth agape and reached forward and with two fingers under her chin lifted it to close it. Why she did not slice his hand off was beyond her. She shivered at his touch, but could not take her eyes off of him and softened her look.

"What's your name?" She stood up, sheathing her daggers and folding her arms, leaning her body away from him.

He smirked at her change of composure and cocked his head to one side "I'm an apprentice of Kariel. My name is not important, but you may call me Bal for short."

She looked him over to be sure he was serious and not just trying to get another rise out of her. "Oh...you're a rogue."

He nodded proudly and put a hand towards her "And you are?"




A Struggle



"Mags...just call me Mags." She nodded to herself and chewed on her lip as she locked eyes with him. "Why are you here speaking to me, and where did you learn the common language?"

"I learned it from the Scryers, of course. You intrigued me, so I thought I would make a closer investigation. When I saw you closer, I stopped stealthing and made my presence known."

Having felt completely stupid at this point at not sensing him behind her, she looked down for a bit and back at him. "I see..."

"Ah, don't feel too bad. I specialize in subtlety. So what happened that you are taking your aggressions out on the fish?" He scoffed again and folded his arms at her.

She looked down at the fish again and grinned looking at him "I had a rough moment with my husband...I felt the need to..."

"Husband? You're married?" He scoffed louder and giggled with his mouth closed. "A rogue like you found a husband?"

"A rogue like me? What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Her angered flared again.

"Nothing at all, I just don't see humans as much the settling down type...especially rogues."

She softened. "Oh...well it shocked me too. I was not expecting a man like him in my life." She was talking about Lance in the kindest of ways though she was still worried about him.

He giggled again "It was nice meeting you, Mags. I'm sure our paths will cross again..." He smirked and started to back away.

"Nice to meet you, Bal. Hopefully, for your sake, we continue to meet on friendly ground." She smirked at him grabbed for her fishing pole on the ground, watching him nod and back into the shadows to disappear again. She shook her head and turned back to the water and cast her line out again.

Lance looked over the expanse of Nagrand, standing mounted on his gryphon at the top of the abandoned armory. He looked over the green landscapes and watched the paladin fight. He clenched his fists. It was a blood elf paladin. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to kill her and vindicate the powers that her very existence defiled. A blood elf paladin. He could hardly bear to look away, to distract himself from what he saw. They all deserved to die. Every defiler of the Light deserved to be consumed by its righteous power. He shut his eyes, wincing.

He sighed as he guided his bird back into the air on a trip back to Shattrath. He knew who he sounded like...who his bitterness reminded him of. The Scarlet Crusade, in some cases, now fought alongside the Argent Dawn, but they were still very much, as far as he was concerned, mislead in their choice of methods.

He grunted softly, running his hand over the neck of his bird affectionately. Vergere had been his companion for quite some time, and he admired her ability to sense his emotions and act with haste and urgency...or with relaxed apathy...when his demeanor was such. He missed Magdalia. He missed holding her.

Though it had only been hours since he had seen her, it felt like years, like eons. He'd grown so accustomed to her presence and he loved how things were when she was around. He felt...responsible and valiant. In her absence, he now felt...superfluous. His presence was not immediately needed anywhere specific, and with much of Virtue already asleep, no one needed his assistance either.

He spotted a camp of ogres as Vergere flew lower. He...saw a cage. There was someone inside of it! He guided his bird down and let Vergere leave him. He tried to work at the lock, but it was no use.

"It requires a key, young paladin. You shall have to find the ogre that has it, and slay him." The prisoner was alive and awake, his voice hushed. "Please, free me, and my father shall reward you."

Lance shook his head, not desiring a ransom or reward...yet. Lance frowned and looked around, slowly replacing the armor, that he used for healing, with the armor he used for destruction. But as he was slipping on his helm, the young night elf called out to him, trying to warn him. But it was too late. Lancesalot did not even see the warlock casting, hear his words as he conjured his dark power. He didn't even feel the blow as the shadow bolt caught him off guard and knocked him unconscious, falling helplessly to the ground at the feet of the imprisoned elf. The night elf cried out in frustration as the ogre approached Lance's fallen form.

"We make stew from tasty human." The imp clapped his hands excitedly as its master slowly carried him back into camp...

The sounds of the Zangarmarsh filled Magdalia' s ears as she stood in the inn of Telredor. She was gazing at herself in a mirror, admiring the look of her now complete set of thick, Draenic armor. She rubbed her hands over the new leather, feeling it against her skin. She was so proud to finally fit into it in her 65th season. The armor was given to her when she reached the Outlands by her friend, Najila, as a present, and she just now was able to use the vest to complete the set and gain its great advantages. She felt very accomplished and smiled to herself at the fun she had the previous day. She had spent the day with Alexanderr, who returned from a long absence. She had surpassed him in skill and had to be more careful on how she sliced at the attackers as to not steal their attention away from him.

She and her warrior friend completed many of the tasks asked of them, in just one day. They worked well together, she could not deny it, and she loved the way that his skills did not surpass hers so that her experiences were worth while. Even those thoughts did not keep her from missing Lance. She looked in the mirror at herself and frowned, knowing it had been a whole day since she had seen her husband. It seemed like such a long expanse of time, and she knew that he would get a kick out of seeing her in her new armor. She missed him and her thoughts raced through the recent memories that they had made in the Terrokar Forest. She couldn't wait to begin her work in Nagrand, at his side. She knew she could do more with Alexanderr, but the ease that Lance made things...made her desire his company.

She looked around the inn, knowing the Draenei there didn't have anything good to drink...and alcohol. So, she made her way to the flight master and took flight to Shattrath to find solace in the bottom of a mug, once more, in the World End's Tavern.

After many hours at the tavern, and drowning her woes, she finally retires and decides to take a walk around the city to wear off the alcoholic effects on her body. She stumbles through Lower City and comes to rest near a deserted campfire. She gazes into the flames and can feel her eyes growing heavier and heavier. The sounds around her, from all the people, do not disturb because her energy is waning. She pulls off her cloak and sprawls it on the ground. She removes her shoulder guards and belt with her daggers and places them in her bags carefully. She yawns and stretches in her new leather armor and settles herself down lying on her side facing the fire with her bags sitting safely in front of her.

Before she could stop herself, she fell asleep, there on the ground, in Lower City. Her hair was strewn about as she rested her head on her arm, her other arm laying over her side with that hand on top of her bags. She did not notice a shadow approach her. A hand reached down quickly, and tapped at her foot - she didn't move. The hand touched her free elbow carefully - she didn't move. Then the hand slowly reached for the bag beneath her hand. In the quickest instant, her hand reached into the bag, grabbed one of her daggers, and was holding it to the throat of the owner of the sneaky hand. Her eyes were barely cracked open as she saw who is was..."Bal?"

Her hand with the dagger gripped it tighter as she slowly sat up and opened he eyes, now wide awake. Her free hand quickly attached her bags to her waist and grabbed for other dagger. She put the point of the other dagger to his side as he pulled his hand back, putting both his empty hands up showing no harm. "What do you want, Bal?"

"Shh, don't say my name so loud..." he looked around quickly and put both his hands on hers to try and pry them off of her. She did not comply. She felt his touch through her gloves and his grip was powerful.

"What do you want?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at him, her hands starting to press the daggers to his skin.

He flinched away from the daggers, but did not back away. "Put your weapons down and I'll tell you."

"Tell me and I'll put the weapons down."

He smirked at her, her face not seeing the humor and her lips tightening as she watched him carefully. "I wasn't going to steal anything...I swear."

She was not convinced and pressed the daggers harder into his skin - this time he backed away quickly, tossed some flash powder at the ground, and vanished as her eyes winced at the smoke. She heard a voice behind her and she spun around.

"There's no need for violence. I mean you no harm." His hands were open towards her as he spoke, sitting on the opposite side of the fire from her. She gripped her daggers and lowered them as she sat down glaring at him.

"Then why did you sneak up on me while I was sleeping!?" Her voice was very angry, and she huffed a breath at him, waiting for answer.

He chuckled under his breath "I didn't know it was...you. I just saw a human...asleep with bags sitting out in the open. If I knew it was you, I wouldn't have awoken you."

"And now that you know it's me? What do you plan to do?" She returned her daggers to her belt, only taking her eyes off of him for a moment. In that moment, he had scooted over next to her, and whispered into her ear, making her jump as he did so.

"I thought I would spend some time with you." She shivered as his breath met her ear and turned to look at him. She met his eyes, closer than she had ever seen them. She saw the deep pools of green gazing back at her, his face soft and with a look of interest. She watched his eyes move around the features of her face and when his eyes met hers again, she studied his face. She saw his hair laying so perfect around his face, the golden locks reflecting the light of the fire. She must have accidentally blushed with a smile because he smiled back at her.

"I guess...that wouldn't be so bad..." she said, as she noticed him settle, sitting as close to her as possible, his knee touching hers as they both faced the fire. She stared into the fire as she began talking with him, small talk at first, and then getting to know him more, releasing a few details about herself. They talked all night...even after the campfire went out.

Lance groaned to himself as he opened his eyes, slowly, holding his head and immediately shutting his eyes again as he felt consciousness sink into him. He grunted and looked over to see a young, night elf male. His shoulders slumped as he groaned loudly. "Oh no."

The night elf scoffed at him, shaking his head. Lance opened his eyes and looked over at him. They were imprisoned together, locked in a cage built for one, instead of two. He sighed and shook his head. "What in the world happened?"

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "It looks like more stupid human bravado to me. Why don't you ask your divine Light why it allowed you to be so careless and get captured?"

Lance was outraged. "Careless?! I come down here because I see someone in trouble and want to help them, and I'm the careless one?! You're the careless one. You were already locked up when I got here, or did you forget?" He narrowed his eyes at the elf and looked himself over. Everything was gone. His armor, his bags, his weapons, and...his clothes. He felt very exposed and wished desperately that they would have at least left him his tabard. He whined softly to himself and groaned loudly. He turned to the elf with an accusing finger.

"This is all your fault, you stupid night elf. If you'd warned me that the ogres were watching your cage, I could have been a little more aware of what the hell was going on, and maybe been a little prepared. Now I'm stuck here with an incompetent piece of bait." He glared at him. "Of course, you realize now, that BOTH of us are bait, thanks to you. You're not a druid too, are you?"

The night elf narrowed his eyes at Lance, growing angrier with each moment. He simply replied, "No, I am not a druid. What does that have to do with anything, human?"

Lance thinned his eyes. "My name is Lance, elf. I am a paladin of Light, of the Alliance, and of the Aldor. Don't call me human."

"Well, my name is Corki. Don't call me elf, Lance, and maybe I'll consider using your given name."

Lance sighed and shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just...I can't believe I got trapped in here with you. Unbelievable."

"Well, it's better than being alone."

Lance held up a finger, growing alert and silencing the elf. He turned to look around. He had heard something...heard footsteps. He saw the same Blood Elf paladin that he'd observed earlier. She was slaying ogres and bringing her wrath towards them. He grunted and shut his eyes tightly. The idea, his only apparent solution, made him feel sick...

Magdalia sat straight up with a jolt as she noticed it was daylight outside. Her head whipped around from side to side looking at her surroundings. She saw the fire burned to ash beside her and she looked down at her waist, feeling her belt, and reassured herself that all her bags were still there. She looked down and saw Bal with his head in her lap. She figured he must have fallen asleep with his head on her stomach since they'd gotten comfortable while they were talking. She looked down at him and her eyes soften as they followed his golden locks from the top of his forehead and over his shoulder. His features were so pleasing to the eye and she raised a hesitant hand to brush a strand out of his face very carefully, trying not to wake him.

He breathed in deeply as she brushed the strand back and his head turned to look up at her. He smiled, "Good morning..." he blinked in the sunlight. She smiled back at him, "Good morning indeed." She had spent the night talking with a blood elf about everything. They talked about being a rogue and the fun it was and the difficulties it gave, about their heritage and why they chose the allegiance they did...he chose Scryer for the epic dagger they had available for their most trusted. They talked all night next to that fire, and she felt herself growing closer and closer to him...she trusted him, wholeheartedly. She bit her lip as this thought crossed her mind.

He chuckled as his eyes looked around without moving his head out of her shadow "I bet your husband would love to find us like this." Her eyes widened and she whipped her head around again, her hair flying around as she did. "Relax...I'm sure he's preoccupied...besides...you wouldn't keep secrets from him...you'll probably tell him all about me when you see him next." She bit her lip harder, looking deeply into his eyes, her eyes wincing slightly. She thought about Lance's face, his feelings, what he would think the moment she mentioned that she had even talked to a blood elf. He would never understand and she knew it. She had to keep this a secret. She looked at him very seriously, her hand rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

"N-No...No Bal.. I can't tell him...he can never, EVER find out about this. Do you understand? We can't be seen together by anyone that could get back to him, we can't..." He raised his finger to her lips and sat up and looked into her eyes his face just inches from hers.

"It's our little secret..." He grinned at her and gathered his belongings, standing up, taking her hand in his to helped her to her feet; she complied. "I'll find you again...soon." He smiled brighter and looked around, walking off, whistling for his mount, and road off, not looking back.

She looked down and gathered her belongings, composing herself, and readjusting her armor accordingly. She smiled to herself as she thought about meeting him again and shook her head, shaking the smile from her face, and checked to see if she was being watched, walking off in the opposite direction toward the Aldor Rise.

Lance looked at the night elf and glared. "This is your fault," he whispered angrily, so angry that he felt like he could tear him limb from limb. He turned to the paladin, to the Blood Elf paladin. He felt a physical sensation, a negative feedback from his entire body from the agony his humiliation was causing him.

"Pssst. Hey, you, over here."

She arched an eye brow at him as she stepped over the fallen ogre. Lance had no idea if she knew common, but he almost secretly hoped she did not. He motioned for her to come closer. The paladin looked around cautiously and approached their cage. She smiled, a prideful, grateful, infuriating smile. She crouched down to peer into the cage. She pouted and teased, "Aw, did the siwwy human and his night elf lover get caught being naughty by duh wittle ogres?" Lance winced, struggling to rein in the unpleasant physical, and agonizingly humiliating, sensations and feelings that were now ripping through his body and mind. She shook her head. "Tch tch tch, how terribly inconvenient for the both of you to be captured and imprisoned together like the Alliance lemmings that you are."

Lance's hands clenched into fists. Not only had she indicated that...that creature and him...were romantically involved - in a sexual way, of all implications - and baby-talked him...but she had even had the nerve, the arrogance, to slander the Alliance to his face.

"You...You..." He growled, grunting for a long moment as he seethed. "Why don't you let us out of our pen and allow me to properly exhibit the ineptitudes of the Alliance and the Light that you have so kindly referenced?"

Her smile grew and she seemed to beam with pride and glee. "But siwwy paladin, I never said anything about your inept, corrupted, foul, and weak, silly, Alliance religion. I was merely making an observation of how awful your situation is. Good thing I found you, otherwise, this little shred of happiness may have been absent in the lovely day I was already having." She winked at him.

Lance felt like a volcano, trying to hold in his emotions, trying not to act out, not to give in to her trivial provocations and her apparent desire to conjure his unleashed rage. He struggled to speak, to keep his voice calm, to contain his fury. "Pl-e-a-se...paladin, if you...free us...I promise to reward you...to give you every cent that I have..."

She wrinkled forehead at him. "But, you are naked. You have no possessions, no wealth, which is the reason I'm going to leave you with your dark-skinned friend to...continue...whatever it is you were doing when you were caught." Her nostrils flared a little as she portrayed her disgust for such things.

Lance shut his eyes, squinting them hard and shut. He looked up at her, desperate as he realized they would again be left alone...together...in this infuriating prison. "But, but my bank! My vault. I have a...things, there. You can have them, all of them, if you JUST release us. Please..." He felt sick, nauseous. He was grateful he had not decided to snack on anything as it might have decided to migrate out of his stomach. "Surely, surely a blood elf, an intelligent being-" He winced, as though he was feeling pain, as though his words were hurting him "-like yourself, understands the monetary values and possessions a paladin of my rank and power would possess. Plus, I know where the ogres have hidden my belongings! You can have everything, have it all! Just, please, free us?"

She chewed on this a long moment and sighed, shutting her eyes and pulling out her sword. Lance cursed himself. A sword. He should have tried a sword to free them. But, she was holding the blade down, holding the hilt hand over hand with the blade of her sword...down. He felt the blood leave his face and felt his organs lurch as he froze in horror. He held up his hands, pleading. "No! No! Don't...stop! You are a paladin! Surely things in your order prohibit this kind of dishonorable action!" But it was too late, he saw the sword falling down, saw its course, its tip lined up with the gap between the bars...directly over him and Corki. But right as she was about to stab down, to strike, she stumbled back, and he looked up to see a blade protruding from her abdomen.




A Struggle



Her eyes grew wide as she looked at the blade and tried to look back to see her assassin, but her eyes rolled up in her head and her body fell limp and lifeless onto the earth beneath her. Lance was petrified. He slowly looked up to see a warrior standing over him. Then an almost overcoming wave of relief came over him.

"Geeze Lance, I thought you hated the stupid Night Elves..." Idris stepped back and struck down to break the lock on Lance's cage. He stepped back to let Lance get out.

Lance grunted, shaking his head as he stood up. He gratefully took the tabard that Idris offered to him and put it on. "Thank you...so much, Idris." He bit his lip and looked Idris over and looked around. "What are you doing here? How did you even survive the journey to Nagrand?"

"Oh, you know me; I'm the exploring type." He winked.

Lance looked to his side and watched Corki run away back toward Telaar. "You're welcome," he mumbled to himself. He turned back to Idris. "Explore?! What do you mean explore? Idris, you'd better explore your way out of this place before you're spotted. I can survive once I find my armor...but you would be slaughtered. Their magics are too powerful for someone of your strength. Run! Go!"

Idris frown and nodded, calling back his chestnut mare before riding off back toward Telaar. Lance cringed and shuddered, completely stressed out by the events of the last day. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hold himself until he forgot all about it. He looked around and then looked to the paladin. He grinned wickedly and took her sword from her, spitting on her still bleeding corpse as he moved to go in search of his armor...

Magdalia awoke early, as she usually does, and carefully crept out of bed as not to wake Lance. She slowly walked outside into the dark morning and stretched. She was wearing her armor, but she had taken off her gloves and daggers for sleep. After having a small breakfast, she called for Thunderbrew, and they rode off down to the Lower City. She had him slow to a walk so she could look through the faces bustling around amongst the vendors. With a look of disappointment, she rode over to the tavern, and left Thunderbrew outside as she went inside. This time, she asked the barmaid to bring her drinks into the back after making her order. The barmaid smirked at her with a knowing look, and nodded, having seen Mags there many a morning drinking just as heavily as she did in the evenings.

Mags found the back of the tavern empty behind the sheer curtains that cut it off from the rest of the place. She sat at one of the tables and rubbed her head, her fingers running through her hair trying to get the morning knots out of it. She looked down at the table as she thought about what Lance had gone through the previous day, and how much pain it must have caused him, when she could not contain herself and laughed at the situation. Truly, the idea of Lance...undressed...in a cage with a night elf...pouting, and his only hope of rescue comes from a blood elf. It was there that the humor ended. She just thought of what it would be like if that blood elf had been Bal...but then the reality set in. She knew Bal would always be untrustworthy because he's a blood elf...and for good reason. It wasn't like the race had made itself known for being kind and just to all they saw.

Just then, she heard footsteps approaching, and knowing it was the barmaid, she slowly reached her hand into her pocket for a few pieces of gold and held them out without getting up. She felt a hand close around the money and heard the mugs be placed down on the table. Something was different. She felt the hand take the money and then hold onto her fingers, after the mugs were set down. She felt the other hand rest on top of hers. She looked up, slowly, her reaction slowed by still waking up. Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her face.

She watched as Bal bent over and softly put his lips to the top of her hand, kissing it, and then looked up at her and smiled. She blushed immensely as she watched him let go and sit in a chair at the same table, pulling it over right next to her.

"Good morning, Mags." He said as his eyes locked onto hers. She just looked back at him and smiled, not finding the words, and it made him chuckle. "Had a good night then?" Her face changed and went straight as her hand reached out for a mug and immediately put it to her lips. "Oh...not so good...Well, did you want to talk about it?" He said, trying to peer over the mug as she continued to gulp it down. She shook her head at him, not putting down the mug until she had finished it and belched loudly. She covered her mouth, embarrassed, as she saw his eyes widen at her.

"Oh...excuse me. I'm not used to...well...I don't usually care to hold it in." She gave him a sheepish smile. "Lance had a rough night...but it ended well. He actually had a run-in with a...this paladin...this...um...female paladin..." She grabbed for another mug as he raised an eyebrow at her, confused. "...a female blood elf paladin." She put the mug to lips and gulped it down, trying to avoid watching his reaction, but unable to look away. She saw his eyes look at her as the words passed over him. He looked concerned.

"A run-in, you say? I'm guessing it didn't go well..." He watched again, wide-eyed as she finished the second mug and slammed it on the table.

She scratched the side of her head looking down, "No, well...she tried to kill him." He shrugged at her.

"Do you expect anything less?" They both turned as they saw the barmaid approach and she smiled, seeing them, and took the empty mugs away, saying she would bring more, and Mags nodded at her. "Alliance and Horde will never live on good terms...not again...The best you can do is assume that the other would kill you if given the chance, so you don't give them the chance...not even to speak." Mags nodded at this, knowing he was right. She put her head on his shoulder, and he took her hand in his. The barmaid came, and put two more mugs on the table, and Bal paid her. He softly caressed her hand in his, even though her skin was rough, he acted like it had no effect on him.

She sighed and slowly closed her eyes "Poor Lance, though...he was so embarrassed. He tried to hide the whole situation from me, and when he finally told me...I laughed...well not about the paladin trying to kill him, but the other part..."

"What other part?" He asked with interest, still touching her, his fingers trailing up her arm.

"Oh...he got captured by some ogres and...um...well they stuck him in a cage with a night elf...after stealing everything he had on him." A smile crept across her face again "Even now...I just...wow...as highly as I hold him, it's just funny to think a cage could hold him."

Bal grinned and chuckled softly under his breath "Yes, I can see how that could cause a funny picture in one's head."

She finished the next two drinks, and they decided to head out and go their own way again, promising to see one another again. Again, she could not wipe the smile on her face as she mounted on Thunderbrew and headed towards the Zangarmarsh.

Lance awoke, practically minutes after she'd left him. He wrinkled his forehead and sighed. Where did that girl get all of her energy...did she even sleep when the sun came down...or when they were...together? He frowned and sighed, reaching to the floor to gather up the armor he'd stripped off before going to bed.

He didn't eat breakfast, walking outside onto the rise to look over the city. He loved the city of the Naaru. He loved the Draenei. He loved the annual celebration of hallow's end. He bit his lip and went back to get a treat bag from the innkeeper before he summoned Vergere and left the rise, making his way down to the lower city to walk around.

He paused by the tavern, laughing to himself. Duh. He shook his head as he laughed again and went up to the tavern's entrance, walking in slowly to question the barmaid. It just made sense. It made so much sense...now that he thought about it. Mags could drink any human under the table and he knew that she'd probably even out-drunk several dwarfs.

He approached the girl carrying the drinks and got her attention. "Have you seen a young girl, a rogue, with black hair and fair skin, about this tall?" He held up his hand to indicate her approximate height.

Kylene wrinkled her forehead before her expression grew shocked. "Uh...nope, sorry. I've never had a girl like that in here."

Lance wrinkled his forehead. What the hell? Why was she lying to him? He shook his head slowly. "No...no no no. Where is Magdalia? Where is my wife? Don't lie to me. Every city and village that Mags has ever been to knows who she is."

The blood elf was beginning to grow tense, and Lance, with his freshly opened wounds and grudges against the blood elves, still healing, was losing patience. But he was not going to be banished over some dishonest, barmaid, blood elf. She backed up against the wall, Lance emulating her step by step until she had no where to run. "I-I-I," she cleared her throat, trying to even out her voice and grow confident. This humility he was forcing on her felt so foreign and was extremely unwanted.

"I have no idea where Magdalia is. She isn't here. She was here this morning. It's not my job to keep track of your wife, Paladin. Why don't you go check the Scryer Tier?"

"Because she isn't a scrying, blood elf whore, barmaid. Her loyalty lies with the Aldor."

"Hmpf, whatever you say, human. But I would venture a guess her loyalties are not as unwavering and sound as you assume."

Lance thinned his eyes at her, almost drawing his blade. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged at him. "Take it however you like, human, but please, get out of my way? I do get Alliance and Aldor customers in here who also like to drink. Will you at least release me to serve them?"

Lance exhaled harshly, and frowned at her. He backed away, and let her go back to serving her drinks. He was taken aback by how seriously he'd reacted...to mere words, simple empty accusations. But...what she said...it had him worried...it touched on his fears and paranoia. What did she mean? Lance swallowed his pride and went back to her, this time petitioning her with much more tact and compassion than before. "I'm sorry, Kylene. I...I don't know what came over me. Perhaps if I pay you? If...I sweeten my inquiry with a few pieces of gold? Then will you tell me where she went and explain your words?"

Kylene chewed on this, looking at the paladin with great apprehension and hesitation. She sighed and held out her hand, only to have it filled with gold. She stared at it for a while, still hesitant, and looked back up at him. She frowned and leaned in closer, whispering to him. "Your girlfriend was here earlier, about an hour ago. She ordered drinks, and a blood elf named Bal paid handsomely for half of them. I've seen them together before...outside the bar, in the city." Her voice dropped a little more. "And I am sure, a human like you, with your power...and your wealth...you could probably do much better than that drunken girl. Besides, she appears to have moved on...perhaps you should too..."

Had he not been so shocked, so utterly numbed and devastated, he might have killed her, right in the bar, for talking about Mags like that. Kylene walked away, pocketing her gold. Lance just stood there. He felt numb. He felt dead. He couldn't move. He just stood there, gaping, shocked.

He went to move, but his body...didn't seem able to properly interpret his commands. He stumbled and fell into a chair. His elbows fell onto the table and he just stared at it, his hands moving through his hair, ruffling it. He couldn't breathe. He felt lifeless. He couldn't even cry, couldn't even shed a tear and sob in despair at the loss of Magdalia.

She was lost to him. He knew...he would never have her back. It made sense...it added up. Why else would she have been so...her reaction the previous night. She was in love with a blood elf. Any other person of the Alliance fold, he knew, would have been infuriated by his story, by the thought of his potential death, sought revenge even. But...Mags had just laughed...she...had found his experience...humorous...

He rested his forehead on the table...and began ordering drinks...

Magdalia approached the flight master in Shattrath intending on heading to the Zangarmarsh when she realized she really hadn't been gone that long, she still had time to spend time with Lance. She turned Thunderbrew around raced towards the Aldor rise. Her heart raced at the idea of jumping back in bed with him, especially after a few drinks in her. She flew off of Thunderbrew on approaching the inn and ran inside and stood next to the bed she and Lance had been in. She stared down at the empty bed, the sheets were tossed aside and not been fixed yet. It seemed he hadn't left long ago. She ran back outside and looked around quickly. She called Thunderbrew back to her and rode him back down into the Lower city and searched everywhere outside. 

As she passed by the tavern she grinned to herself and slowed her ride and then kept going. She didn't see him anywhere. She raced back up to the Terrace of Light and looked all around. She could not find him. She thought to herself if perhaps he would have already flown off or even headed back to Azeroth. She came upon the Scryer elevator and looked up at it. She wondered how far she could get and if Bal was even anywhere to be found. She watched the rise lower in front of her and there Bal appeared in front of her. She laughed at the irony. "Just the rogue I was looking for..."

He gave her a snide grin "Oh, really? What can I do for you this fine morning?"

"Help me find my husband." She looked around, "He's wandered off, you know what he looks like, I described him to you, you think you could help."

"Ha! I can do more than that, I can tell you exactly where he is..." Mags jumped back at this and peered closely at him.

"Where?!"

He stepped forward putting a hand on the bridle of Thunderbrew - he snorted at the tug - "He's in your heart...silly..." He giggled at her and she gave him the quirkiest grin.

"Yea..." she blushed, "but I really wanted to have some time with him before he got too busy, please help, come on...we'll just split up, ask a few people and meet back at the tavern when you're done."

He smiled at her taking another step closer and wrapping his hand around her leg, looking up at her, "Why can't we look together?"

"Duh...because we'll be seen together...the last thing I need is for us to stumble into Lance and him see us together and totally assume that I'm cheating on him."

Bal laughed so hard he squeezed her leg, making her jump and giggle, "Cheating on your husband? .. with a blood elf? Who would believe that?" He continued laughing and she began to laugh with him and then caught herself.

"He would...and it would be his first conclusion. There's no way he would ever think that I'm just friends with you, or even that you are teaching me things from the enchanters on the Scryer rise...he just would never listen to me. He would always see you as a threat and...I would lose him."

Bal shook his head stopping his laugh listening to her, "Why would want to be with a husband that is so untrusting?"

She leaned down close so he could be sure to hear it, "Because I love him...with all that I am." She cocked her head to the side with her face very close to his. She was holding tight to Thunderbrew's reigns as she leaned as to not fall off. Bal heard her and smiled and moved his hand on her leg to her shoulder, his other hand reaching for her hands on the reigns and pulls her towards him causing her to fall off into his arms off her feet. She laughed at him and he laughed back at her. She playfully smacked his chest. "Oh, put me down..."

He slowed his laugh and allowed he to regain her footing. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist...you should have dodged me."

"Oh, don't pull that on me, I don't even have all my armor on, I'm not ready for dodging attacks."

"Well, perhaps you should in the company of a..." leaning in with a sly grin, "...blood elf...we're so evil you know."

"Ha! Come on, are you gonna help me or not?"

"Tell you what, you go on foot and talk to people and I'll make a circle on my flying mount around the city looking for him...no one will suspect a thing." He winked at her.

"Oh! You're a genius" She jumped up and hugged him tight and he spun her around before putting her down. She climbed back on Thunderbrew. "So I'll meet you at the tavern then." He nodded and she spun Thunderbrew around and raced back towards Lower city.

Not even an hour had passed before Lance was close to unconsciousness. His tolerance didn't hold a candle to Mag's and his mind was easily numbed and affected. His forehead was planted on the table in front of him. He groaned occasionally, now far too intoxicated to order more drinks. 

In his state of mind, he didn't have to think about the boulderfist ogres, think about the blood elf paladin or how quick she had been to slay him. He didn't have to think of Mags and the betrayal he felt. Then he barely felt/heard a hand slam down on the table. Lance could hardly even lift his head. His forehead came off the table and inch or two before he groaned and set it back on the table. His words were slurred and muffled as he spoke. "Wuh-huuuut. Hoosh there? Leave me...alone..." 

He barely felt the hand lift his chin to look at him. "Wow Lance, what the hell happened to you? Did someone get your wife pregnant?"

Lance smiled groggily, laughing. "wiefffff...pregant...HA! That's a good one..." He groaned again and went to look up at the face...and fell out of his chair onto the floor. He felt undeftly for the support of the table and felt two strong arms prop him up. 

"Oh god Lance, I'm so sorry..."

"mmmph..." Lance tried to focus and see who this was. He obviously knew him...but he could not identify him. "Itch...wash bound to happen...sooner er later...We puhladins of light...are not known for our skillsh with women...which is why we HAVE the Light, you see."

"Uh huh...Well, at least your doing the classy thing instead of drowning your sorrows..."

"Yes! Exactly! See...if...it had been Mags...she would have drank herself...to death. Me, I drink in moderation."

"Moderation...as in the imaginary place that exists where ever you happen to be?"

Lance grunted at this and groaned. "NNNN...sounds about...right." He went to stand and simply collapsed onto the floor. Again, the gentleman picked him up and helped him into a seat. He heard the barmaid whispering and heard the man whispering back...but he still couldn't...see. "heh...can't you just...leave me...with my booooooze? I'm quite content here, just...drowning my sorrows as you put it..."

The man sighed and Lance heard him leaving, walking away. He rested his head back on the table and felt himself dozing off, his consciousness sufficiently affected for him to finally pass out...

Magdalia searched all over, asking everyone she saw about her husband, she was feeling more frantic now. She really wanted to see him. A few hours went by and she noticed about the time she was about to ask Skettis for help. She stopped herself and turned Thunderbrew slowly around and headed toward the tavern. She had him at a walking pace so she could still search the faces as she passed. She looked overhead for a moment and saw several flying mounts, not knowing which one was Bal. Her face grew worried. She was afraid to admit that she would have to wait another day to see him. She didn't want to do that. After what occurred the last day that they were apart, she felt responsible to be there for him as much as she could.

She knew that Alex could wait for her in Zangarmarsh, and that he would understand if she needed more time with her husband. She approached the tavern and slowly dismounted outside, still letting her eyes wander around the crowd. She heard flapping and then saw Bal land in front of her. She looked at him with hope and curiosity. He simply frowned and shook his head.




A Struggle



"I think he's long gone from the city, Mags...I looked all over...twice."

She nodded understandingly and approached him as he dismounted, "Well, thanks so much for trying so hard...I know you have better things to do..."

"Better things? Than helping my friend? Doubtful..." He winked at her.

She smiled at him and put her arms around him in an embrace, "So when will I see you again?"

He wrapped his arms around her to embrace her and rested his cheek on top of her head, "Never can tell, we just keep running into each other...but you can be sure I will be looking forward to it." He let go of the embrace and took one of her hands in his hands and pressed it to his lips. "Be well, Mags."

She smiled at him and blushed as his lips touched her skin once more, "Light be with you, Bal." He smirked at this and let her hand go and mounted once more and flew straight up above her out of sight.

Lance stirred groggily, his voice weak as he inquired, "Hoosh there?" His speech was still a little slurred, the effects of his fortune still lingering. He still couldn't see, his vision coming and going as he tried to focus. "Kylene?" He looked around for the barmaid. She had cut him off when he'd completely run out of gold. He tried to summon her, desiring more alcohol, even now in his stupor. He was conscious, and this was not how he wanted to be. His gaze went out to the entrance of the tavern. He...saw someone. She had black hair and fair skin. 

He grunted as he tried to focus his sight. Was it really her? But...he saw another figure. It had blond hair and was much taller than her. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Mags...with a blood elf. A blood elf rogue. Bal. He knew it had to be Bal. He watched as he took her into an embrace...no, it was she who was embracing him. Then he took her hand, and kissed it. 

He felt himself retching, felt every particle in his stomach trying to erupt from him. He groaned to himself, forcing a smile to suppress the reflex. It made him feel sick. But, as he stared at her, he failed to see the woman who came up behind him. She was garbed in the Doomcaller's Attire. He felt her dark power lift him from his seat and felt her invisible fist grasp his heart. She was draining his life, taking his strength. "I finally found you, Paladin. I finally caught up to you. You will pay for what you did to me, for what you have done...to Morbent Fel and my masters before and after him. 

"You abandoned me when you could have saved me, you could have taken me with you. But no...you left me to die, to die in that wretched, corrupt, Alliance, capital city. Now, I will take from you what you have stolen from me, from my mentors, and from the others like me who hunt those like you, like the crusade, like the dawn, and like the old order." 

Lance looked around to see that neither the bartender or barmaid were coming to his aid. He now regretted how forcefully he'd gone after Kylene. He felt Aria's power grow, feeling his body dying as she drained his life force. But there was one person, that he did not see in the tavern, who so graciously came to his aid. 

The energy of Lunadell's spell knocked Aria over and vexed her concentration, leaving Lance's body to fall to the floor, weakened and drained. She shape-shifted, taking on her Moonkin form and began to cast Starfire, over and over again before she summoned her Treants. 

Lunadell was extremely unhappy with what she saw, and when she saw this evil warlock attempting destroy Lancesalot, nature's fury was being unleashed. She cast the spell over and over, the Treants pummeling the warlock until she stopped moving. The Treants vanquished themselves and Lunadell went to Lance's side. She imbued him with her renewing spell, hoping to give his body enough strength to be able to stand. She offered a hand to him and helped him up. "What in the world did you do to that silly warlock girl for her to burst into the city of the Naaru and try to kill you?" 

Lance smiled weakly, grunting, and warmly embraced Luna. Perhaps it was the affects of his intoxication that spurred this over affectionate gesture, but he pulled away after just a moment, grinning at her. "It is wonderful to see you too, Lunadell. Thank you..." 

She shook her head and winked at him, "What kind of friend would I be if I let you die by the power of a shadow-powered warlock?" She wrinkled her forehead at him and hit him on the head. "Now what are you trying to do with all that alcohol? You need to stop drinking, Lanceypoo. Sober up and get out of here before she wakes up." 

He rolled his eyes groaning. "Ah! Will you please stop calling me that. My name is Laaance. Not Lanceypoo."

She winked at him and messed up his hair before she left the tavern and went on her way, leaving Lance in the middle of the tavern, alone, save for Aria's body sprawled on the floor. Was she still alive? He bit his lip. He had seen Sanfi and Cricious use their soul keeping powers to give him the ability to resurrect himself...

He felt uncompelled to stay there and find out if she had made use of such a power. He would not be able to defeat her. Not now...and likely not EVER. He stumbled out of the tavern, still yards from Magdalia, before he summoned Vergere and let her carry him back to the Aldor Rise...

Bal, also known as Balthurian, landed his Windrider on the Scryer rise and quickly dismounted. He walked to the closest source of water and dunked his hands in and splashed the water on his face and scrubbed with all his might using his hands. His eyes were squinted shut as he did and he gagged slightly as he dried his face off. He shook his head and then stood straight back up. He checked his reflection in the water and grinned as he straightened a few stray hairs. He turned around to come face to face with a female blood elf with red hair that gleamed in the sunlight. He grinned at her for a moment and then frowned, "Ugh, this morning was a rough one."

She grinned at him slyly, "Aww, did that silly human gross you out again?"

He cringed, "If I ever have to kiss her, I am going to lose it!"

She shook her head, "You shouldn't have to, Bal, not if your plan goes accordingly."

He nodded, "I know, Eth, but this long drawn out process is..." he started walking away and turned back toward her, "it would be so much easier just to slice her throat!"

She walked up beside him and patted his shoulder as they began walking around the rise passed the vendors and out to the grassy edge that over looked the city. "It will all be worth it, in the end...just remember what she did to you."

He clinched his fists as he sat down in the grass, his face tightened as he looked down at the city, "That...how could she? My beautiful Melistan...gone...in an instant and it's all her fault." He sighed and rested his fists against the ground flexing his arms as he spoke, "We were so happy together, my Melistan and I...I just don't see...how she made that stop so quickly."

Ethriall watched him with concern and sat behind him massaging his shoulders, trying to get him to relax, "Come on, you can't let that emotion take you over, you have to be cold, you have to be heartless to do what you're doing. I assure you, she will get what is coming to her. You will rip her heart out and tear it into pieces before you put back in her chest to let it consume her to her death."

His frown turned to an evil grin, "Oh yes, she will die." He relaxed his shoulders but not his fists to allow her massage to work. He spoke quietly but loud enough for her to hear, "All we were doing were...I only left her for a second...or so I thought. When I came back, she was lying in her own blood, her body severed in several places...even the priests couldn't heal her...couldn't bring her back. I just remember looking around after finding her body seeing a girl dressed in leather riding off on her black stallion." His head fell forward as Ethriall worked on his neck muscles just listening attentively. "After months of searching, I finally tracked her down and watched her for so long from the shadows. Even after all that time, I would never have guessed that she would ever be so vulnerable as to open herself up to me and my...friendship." He chuckled to himself, "What a naive fool."

Ethriall laughed behind him continuing to massage him and letting him lean back on her as she did so. "I just think you are a genius for what you have planned...getting her trust and possibly even her affection is just a bonus and makes her more vulnerable to your attack."

He grinned to himself eying the city and they both laughed together.

Magdalia lied with Lance the whole night, about every hour or so she would awake to sit up and look around and him look over and make sure he was still breathing and reactive. She checked his bandages regularly too. She felt so guilty all night. She knew what she had done was wrong, but as she gazed towards the door, she missed Bal. She knew she would have to tell him that they could not be "affectionate" any more. It saddened her because she was intoxicated by his touch. She trembled at the memory of Lance accusing her, or telling her he saw her with him. She did not want to ever feel his anger, his disappointment, or see him in pain ever again. 

As he slept, she softly caressed his cheek as her hair cascaded over her shoulder onto his shoulder. She smiled at him, remembering how much she loved him. She was so thankful that he was not killed. She was thankful to Lunadell. She looked down at him confused as that thought passed over her. He was saved by a night elf...and he was happy about it? True, she is one of the Virtue family but...it was just odd for him.

She did not sleep much because of her concern for him but the exhaustion over took her and she practically collapsed when it came close to daybreak. She rested her head on his chest curled up next to him with her arms around him. She swore to herself she would never leave him again...unless he left first...

Lance slept soundly throughout the night, hardly stirring or making any noise. His breathing never stopped and his heart never faltered. Having Magdalia there...her very presence...seemed to soothe him just a little more. He still felt scared, alone, and betrayed. His fear of losing Mags coupled with his fear of Aria finding him...or finding them both...was less than conducive to his health. Her power had wounded him, ripping through his tabard and armor into his flesh. The wound had no blood. It was just a dark, black spot on his chest where her power had found him. 

When he awoke, he found Mags lying on top of him and immediately felt warm and safe. He knew that she would have got between him and Aria were she to have shown up in the night...but he still felt so...betrayed. He felt as though his trust had been violated by these secrets she kept from him. Granted, he had tried to keep something from her, but he'd only wanted to hide his humiliation from her...because he thought she'd be traumatized by the thought of almost losing him.

But he'd been wrong about that...She had not reacted to the news how he had expected, and with the discovery of this...this blood elf running around with her, kissing her, holding her...it hurt. He felt a physical pain in his chest when the many possibilities, the potential, the prospect of how little he probably knew stirred in his mind.

He slowly moved out from underneath her, stumbling at first before he found his balance again. Good, he could walk. She had not taken that away from him. Slowly, he made his way back out onto the rise, forgetting his armor, not even realizing how unarmed and vulnerable he was. He summoned Vergere and decided to find this blood elf...this...creature...who jeopardized everything he had worked for in the past weeks. He would destroy this Rogue, this Bal, just as the blood elves before had always tried to destroy him...

Magdalia awoke to find Lance gone. She rubbed her eyes, shocked that she had slept so soundly for so long. It had been quite a while since she had gotten a complete rest. She sat up trying to get fully awake before heading out, she had a small snack, stretched and walked out onto the rise. She looked around for any sign of Lance but could not find one. She shrugged and smiled, happy that he was out and about and apparently feeling better and called Thunderbrew for a ride. She rode him down to the tavern and smugly approached Kylene.

"Good morning, Mags, your usual?" She smiled so fakely. Mags smirked and with all her force punched Kylene in the face. Kylene turned and fell at the force of the punch, causing her to send the drinks she had in her hand flying and splashing all over herself. She grabbed her face to protect from perhaps another hit. It didn't come. Mags just stood there proudly over her.

"Yea...my usual, but hold the spying and gossiping to my husband this time." She cocked her head to the side with a grin and climbed over Kylene to go sit at an open table in the back. Kylene looked up at her with a glare and watched her sit beyond sight of the bar. She composed herself, touching her cheek lightly to test how swollen it was. She stood up and walked to the bar to refill the order that had just been ruined. 

As Kylene was speaking to the bartender and complaining about how much her face hurt she saw Bal walk in out of the corner of her eye and turned to face him trying to show off her now growing bruise. Bal reached out and grabbed her chin for a better look, a look of shock and horror on his face. Kylene whispered what happened to him and he nodded at her and they exchanged glances at each other and then towards where Mags was sitting. He nodded once more and tapped on the bar and walked towards Mags.

Mags looked up as she saw Bal enter the back room. She smiled at him and watched him sit down across from her. He looked at her and smiled in return. "You are looking mighty pleased with yourself this morning."

Mags nodded at him leaning back in the chair and grinning proudly. "Yup, last night went better than I had hoped and..." she began rubbing her fist with other hand "I feel I made up for some of the bad parts already."

He looked at her with curiosity, "Want to tell me what happened?" He leaned on the table trying to get closer to her. She leaned her crossed arms on the table and spoke softly to him.

"Lance saw us hug outside the tavern...he was here...almost dead drunk and just after that he got attacked by a...very evil force."

"You don't say? That's interesting...what was this evil force?"

Mags went to open her mouth as Kylene approached holding a mug in each hand. Kylene looked at the mugs and then at the two of them and instead of putting the mugs straight in front her, she switched the mugs, putting one in front of Mags and the other in front of Bal. She held out her hand and Bal paid for both. Kylene winked at him, pocketed the money and turned back to the rest of the tavern. Mags put both her hands on the mug and looked down into the liquid. "An old friend of his that apparently has gained a lot of power attacked him...almost killed him, and would have were it not for a friend from our guild..."

Bal nodded picking up his mug and inhaling the aroma before drinking it slowly. Mags put her mug to her lips and began gulping it.

"So, he saw us...hug...how did that interrogation go?"

She shrugged as she finished her drink and leaned back after putting the mug down, "Surprisingly well, he was so drained from the attack and the amount of alcohol he consumed I don't know if..." She blinked hard losing her train of thought, putting a hand to her head. "I don't know if...he really knew..." her eyes were drooping and the room was spinning, she was having trouble focusing. She sighed and let her head fall onto the table, collapsing her arms underneath her. 

Bal grinned at this and looked around before getting up and going around to where she was and picking her up in his arms, cradling her. Her head fell back as she lied there unconscious in his arms. He slowly walked with her in his arms looking around constantly as he walked through the bar and checked around outside before exiting the tavern. He nodded and winked at Kylene before leaving. He put Mags on his Windrider and she groaned a little as she was draped over the saddle. He mounted right behind her limp body and ordered his mount into the sky. They flew to the far south corner of the lower city and landed. He pulled her off of the saddle and laid her down in the grass.

"Oh you foolish human...you will pay for what you have done..." He grinned looking at her so helplessly lying there and then his face looked disgusted as he kneeled before her and began removing her clothes. He removed his armor as well, leaving only his pants on and left her in nothing but her tabard. He lied down next to her, only looking at her face, so limp, so asleep. "You see...Kylene will tell your husband where to find you...and he will find us...and you will lose everything precious to you and you will only have me to cling to, and once I have all your trust...I will kill you." He turned her on her side and wrapped his arms around her as he moved one of her legs to wrap around him. He took his cloak off and draped it over them and gazed at her with an evil grin. Her groans were the only signs of life she gave. He tried to make himself as comfortable as possible while holding her as close to him as possible. He gagged to himself and looked around before he rested his head and closed his eyes to rest. He would wait for Mags to wake up or for Lance to wake them both up. 

As Lance finally touched down on the Scryer tier, unarmed, most of his armor left at the side of the bed, his avian companion simply would not leave him. But after a moment, she took flight and headed towards the out skirts of the city...where Lance would likely be banished the moment his presence was discovered.

He was impeded by an Arcane Guardian, but he didn't care. He starting fighting the giant, mechanical sentinel, but after only a moment...his form was banished, and then exiled. Moments later, Lance found himself dropped out of space and time next to the sign at the cross roads just outside of the city of the Naaru. 

A walking peacekeeper saw him, and just shook his head. "Those loyal to the Aldor and those loyal to the Scryers, are not allowed to travel to the sanctuaries of those they are at war with, Paladin. Surely, you know this, so why did you still recklessly travel to the tier of the Scryer in search of mischief?"

Lance sighed as Vergere slowly touched down and trotted over to him, lowering her head at him to bade him to mount her. He frowned at the peacekeeper, shaking his head as he simply said. "I do not know. I feel that I should discuss this with someone more experienced with the matters that I feel I am dealing with."

The peacekeeper chuckled at this, and bowed as he resumed his guard on the road to the sacred city. Lance got on Vergere and took to the sky. "I know who I need to speak to..."

He called upon the light to imbue him with the power of the crusader, giving his mount the speed and haste to facilitate their journey.

He touched down in near the wardens guarding the outskirts of the expedition outpost. He trotted over to the one night elf he respected above all others. Lauranna Thar'well, the one person who knew more about potions mastery than any other being he knew of...wrinkled her forehead at him. "Lancesalot...to what do I-" But she stopped, frowning at him. 

Lance slowly dismounted and stood there. He wore his Virtue tabard, his greaves, his necklace - which he hardly ever seemed to take off - his cloak, his black shirt, and his rings. He had left his helm, his mantle, his armguards, gloves, battle harness...even his truncheon and shield. He became quite self-conscious about what he was...or rather was not dressed in.