World of Warcraft®

''Mmmmmmm... '' Rithrynn could hear a low voice going overhead, but the Night Elf choosed to ignore it, instead rolling over into a more comfortable position as she slept tightly. She didn't want to get out of her warm and comfortable blanket, it was all too great a comfort to betray...

''Give me some minutes... some hours, this is so divine a rest!''

''Mmmnmnmnmnm... ''

*CRASH*
*SMUK*

Without warning, without a chance to brace herself for the coming storm, Rithrynn felt something fall directly ontop of her.
The Night Elf's first instinct was to turn around, but before she could even open her eyes, she received a weak, albeit still hard fist into her face.

And then another, and then another....
Something small and fragile was pounding away at the defenseless Night Elf whom was still dazzled and halfway paralyzed with sleep.

Reacting without thought or emotion, Rithrynn instinctively raised her forearm right up into Liaena's chest, and with a sudden move, the Night Elf stormed up from her bed, and the little human was thrown up along with her, pushed up by the big Night Elf now furiously throwing her back down onto the table.

As Liaena's back smashed down onto the surface of the table, pinned down by the Night Elf's arm, she could see Rithrynn's other hand, holding a piece of long, stainless steel; a razor sharp, serrated dagger, which the Night Elf now raised up into the air above her.

''Die yo,- oh, wait.... ''

Not a second had passed, as the dagger's merciless tip was now mere inches away from Liaena's open eye.
Rithrynn's expression was first confused when the Night Elf looked down at the little girl, then distraught when she realized she had been nothing but mere centimeters from turning Liaena's brain into something that could resemble a grotesque slushie.

''What... what, WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!'' Rithrynn almost shouted at her, clearly upset while she put away her dagger, sheating it down by her belt as she stared down at the innocent little girl whom was lying on her back on the table infront of her, the Night Elf looking almost terrified!

''I... you shouldn't have, goddess! Elune! I thought you were someone else! Ven'shan derin Din o'el! Died! Vashin, benar! I could have killed you! Why, why... why by Elune's light did you do that?!''

''It's a truth I've known a long time, Francis. I've just hoped for a better end.'' Sharon muttered, his voice low as he peered back at the forsaken, his bright face overshadowed by a gray cloud.
''I know he can never atone for his sins, but... I just wish he could see his sins in the first place.''

Sharon silently followed Francis as they turned to head towards the house, walking through the snow covered grass.
The winter morning was quite beautiful. The snow crystals reflected the light of the sun, causing the white blanket surrounding them to glitter and shine beneath the blue sky. It was a truly enchanting sight, and Sharon couldn't help but thinking about how the beauty could betray such a great danger that lurked in the forest.

''What's truly terrifying is not his power, but the hatred that his mind holds. I still cannot fathom how he came to be the dreadful monstrosity that he is today... '' Sharon paused, the High Elf faced downwards as they went, his face attemtping to hide the regret it held.

''He was a noble man before the war, he had a kind heart, and I knew many of his friends whom spoke only well of him, but... he was just a 'mere' poet, a merchant. I had never expected him to survive the war, let alone... become the monster he now is. I fear that even if we kill him, I will never escape that which wrought the corruption of my brother.''

“………..r-rithy” Liaena mumbled finally, staring nonchalantly up at the shiny silver blade suspended mere centimetres from her right iris. She sat up slowly as the arm was removed, watching the animated elf sluggishly.

Rithrynn Angry! Rithrynn Upset! Lots of stuff too fast to follow! What were they talking about again? And…action!

“………………………………”
“…………………………….”

The dramatic pause, where she was obviously supposed to respond, stretched on. And On. Liaena kneaded her forehead where she could feel the beginnings of a pressure headache coming on. “Uh…sorry. About. That?”

Rolling off the table inelegantly, she patted the unhappy Rithrynn on the wrist absently as she stumbled past to the sofa, checked beside it, wriggled an arm around underneath (in the process discovering several things that should not, nor should they ever be in a living room) and was in the process of clambering up on the sofa to check behind it before some of the events of the previous night filtered back into her confused brain. “Oh yeah…burned my bag. Crap. That stupid firebreathing hussy….”

“Liiii! Talk to me!”

“Whu…? Oh, right, right…” Liaena blinked back to reality for a moment, flapping her hand in the vague direction of Rithrynn as she tried for a comforting smile. Truth be told, it was not one of her best. “Sorry...I just…thought you were someone else. I’m fine, just let me know when it’s morning, kay?”

“But…”

And with that Liaena had pulled the blanket right over her head as she flopped back onto the sofa, curling into a little ball to the extent only one of her bare feet could be seen.

''It IS morning!''

But Rithrynn felt defeated as her words fell on deaf ears, the small human curling into a little ball among the cozy blankets on the sofa, leaving the Night Elf standing there like a hapless fool. With a pout, Rithrynn folded her arms and threw Liaena a venomeus glare.

''Elune, the nerve of that girl!''

...

'' ... but, she does have a point.''

Turning to gaze towards the beautiful rays of sunlight beaming through the dirty windows, Rithrynn suddenly remembered how tired she was. It had been a good rest, but far from enough to cover the Night Elf's needs.

Turning to Liaena, she saw how much more space there was on the sofa now as Sharon was gone, and only the small Liaena to fill it.
Suddenly the Night Elf's lips curled into a smile, as Rithrynn moved forward to the sofa, putting one knee onto the soft pillows, she climbed up into the sofa, sneaking herself as deep into the sofa as possible by passing over Liaena and forcing her way down next to her.

As a result, Liaena was pushed multiple inches away as the Night Elf tried to make enough room for herself, and as she had found a comfortable position in the sofa, she turned around and reached for Liaena's blanket, pulling a good part of it from the human girl and placing it over herself.

''Oh, this is so much better!''

Surrendering herself to the comforts of the sofa, Rithrynn continued to wrap herself in the blankets, the same time depriving Liaena of said blankets and almost pushing the little girl out of the sofa in the process!

"Oh, that's easy to explain" Francis dismissed as he opened the back door. "When you're in the Scourge it's easy to become like that. Once I'm skilled enough to manage memory-transference spells, I'll even show you if you want. That might be some time away though: Last time I tried one I spent the day thinking I was a cockroach."

With a small chuckle at the memory, he brushed the snow off his boots and walked in. The Warlock and the boy were both already up. Had then been spying on them? To be honest, Francis didn't really care. It was just too early in the day for that sort of thing. But doubtless he'd settle back into that old metaphorical overcoat of cynicism and petty hatred yet. Well, what remained of that overcoat anyway.

"Morning miss, boy!" he said as passed through to the other room, grabbing a frying pan hanging on a hook on the way. "There should be some bacon and eggs in the pantry, bring them in would you?"

In the living room, things were decidedly less lively. The dwarf was still asleep in the corner (He'd better wake up and take that beer I put on him, or I'll take it myself Francis thought to himself) and Liaena and the night elf were still curled up on the sofa. Well, he'd soon fix that!

"Wake up!" he yelled, banging the kettle and pan together. "Come on, up! Am I the only corpse here or what?"

As they entered into the living room, Sharon couldn't help but chuckle when he saw the sofa, where Liaena and Rithrynn now lay curled up together, the Night Elf appearantly having seized the oppertunity after the High Elf had left his spot.

''Give them some rest, it's not like the breakfeast's done already.'' Sharon commented with a humerous tone, altough on a little serious side, the High Elf took a subtle pair of steps away from the forsaken.

While Liaena's typical response to attempts to wake her up were usually responded to by deeper snooring and being totally ignored, Sharon was less comfortable with what the Night Elf would do.

She was a trained marksman after all, so even with a few meters apart, Sharon couldn't help but feel compromised standing next to Francis whom was banging his kettle and pan together.

''Speaking of which, Francis... '' Sharon suddenly said, turning a curious gaze to the forsaken next to him.
''What is for actually breakfest? Figuring you're... not exactly in a state dependant on 'nutrition', exactly what kind of food do you have lying around? And, how old is it?''

"It's just food." Francis replied with a shrug. "You know, like what I put on the table there last night. Bread, cheese, sausage. I have some bacon and eggs in the pantry. It's all fresh. Well, reasonably fresh. It's not like there's a bakers a few hundred yards away I can visit every morning."

He couldn't help but notice the question Sharon was deliberately avoiding, and rolled his eyes. "It's complicated, okay? The undead don't need to eat but we can if we want to. We seem to, well, regenerate from it. It sort of stops the rotting, do you see?."

The High Elfs expression told that he didn't. "No, I don't know how it works" Francis continued apologetically, "but it explains why ghouls seem to enjoy devouring people so much. It works with any food, but fresh is better, and for obvious reasons meat works the fastest. Pork seems to give the best results, although I have no idea why..."

At that thought, he stared into the middle distance for a moment. A hungry look began to spread across his face before he shook his head and the moment passed. Suddenly aware of how rambling he'd been, he joked to the room at large "I hope you're all taking notes! There's a test at the end of the day!"

((Havent posted a while, sorry about that))

Zenera had ,before they returned into the building, slipped away and sat down back where she was resting and simply mimicked what she looked like while resting.
When francez came in to awaken everyone else she then too mimicked her waking up but that is easy.

She got up and as sharon was talking to francez, she walked up to and said "Do you want me to do anything, sharon?"

Hiding under the bedclothes was good. The darkness was quiet, and rested her uneasy stomach. The cushions were cuddly, the blanket was fuzzy and the bed was lovely and warm and --

….The bed was getting smaller for some reason. The soft pillows and blankets were steadily moving away, shifting her closer and closer to the edge of the bed. It was a ridiculous concept, and she ignored it. How could a bed be shrinking?

Thump

Liaena landed on the rather chilly wooden floor with a bump and a yelp of surprise, feeling around for the elusive blanket to look up blearily.

Clambering slowly to her feet, the two men already seated at the table turned to glance at her quizzically as Liaena sunk onto a chair across from them while paying very little attention to the food, the hot high elf or the unhot forsaken. The dress she was wearing, having been nicely chargrilled the previous night, after having slept the night in it it had more holes than chickenwire and appeared to be kept on by sheer force of will on its part as she planted her elbows on the table to rest her head on her palms, staring morosely through a round cheese.

The cheese in question was growing blue mould. Weird. Was it supposed to do that?

All in all, the food looked, and particularly smelt distinctly unappetising to the young woman. The room itself however, didn’t smell too bad. There was a interesting floral scent in the room, and her eyes wandered over to some of the stuff left out by the --->incredibly house-proud<---- forsaken.

“……………….”

Swiping her empty bowl off the table, Liaena pushed back her chair to wander over to the large array of the undeads parchments, broken quills and herbs just lying around on sideboards. Poking around she selected several odd-looking varieties of leaf to put into the bowl and started rattling around in drawers, apparently entirely oblivious to at least one pair of eyes watching her. “….sweetheart?”

“I’m…uh…not hungry” Liaena muttered absently. A final handful of blue herbs went into the mix-up as she turned on her heel and made a bee-line for the kitchen. “I’m going to borrow a pot, OK Francis?”

It was clear she wasn’t planning on waiting for an answer as she pushed the door to the kitchen open and disappeared through it purposefully. Belatedly, her head reappeared for a moment before vanishing, to smile weakly at Sharon. “Oh…and morning”

Click

Click

From her deceitful slumber, Rithrynn had kept half an eye on the events as they had passed in the room, and as Liaena disappeared into the kitchen, the Night Elf choosed to make her move.

Sitting up in the bed, she reached for her satchel lying on the ground and pulled it up next to her. Going through the buttons, Rithrynn opened the satchel and began to rummage around inside of it with her hand, before she finally found what she was looking for, and pulled out a delicious cinnamon roll out of her satchel, barely a day old.

Leaning back against the slightly torn sofa as she took a bite, she smiled as she looked over to Francis and Sharon, whom were both stuck over the table, where the food was perhaps not anymore delicious than the table itself.

''Oh, don't worry about me, I remembered to pack my own.'' Rithrynn explained as she munched hungrily away at the constantly shrinking cinnamon roll.

''I wonder what Li's going to come up with. I don't even want to imagine what that undead's kitchen looks like.''

The thought of Liaena having to work her way to a breakfeast with rotten eggs & bread old enough to be able to walk by itself made the Night Elf grin as she ate away on her cinnamon roll.

Not to mention... Liaena... cooking?

That was one thing Rithrynn had never heard of, and so it only made the Night Elf more curious as she thought of what Liaena would bring out of the kitchen - or if she sould start to evacuate the house as soon as possible...

''I'm sure it can't be THAT bad... it's just food.''

Having found his seat by the table with Francis, the High Elf found himself in an awkward position. While Francis' intentions were certainly as white as snow, the food, much of it carrying signs of old age and rot, Sharon found himself deliberately working for an excuse not to eat.

But his little plan was soon crashed as Liaena, whom had recently just arrived at the table, darted for the kitchen.
Indeed, he could not take the responsability as chef then. But on the other hand, if by some divine miracle, Liaena would be able to conjure up something edible in the kitchen. Hopefully not poisonous in the very least.

Until then, Sharon just had to play it...

''So,'' Sharon started, finally turning his attention back from the kitchen door and to the forsaken, the High Elf bringing up his usual friendly smile.
''What brings you to Quel'Thalas, Francis? To be quite frank, I had never expected to see you this far from Forsaken land or Dalaran. It makes me very curious... ''

Turning around to look at the room, said room he already knew like the back of his hand even from his short stay, the elf gave it a thoughtful stare before looking back to Francis.

''This... little hamlet of yours, what exactly is it with this place that beats the grand libraries of Dalaran, or... ahem, the dread halls of Undercity?''

"Well, um". At Sharon's question, Francis showed a great deal of embarrassment, reaching for another bottle and clearing his throat. "You remember our last little, er, adventure, back in Dalaran?" he began, trying to take the cork out of the drink in his hand as he talked. "I don't, I ended up missing half of it. There I was, running down the street, next thing I know Something hits me in the head, and I wake up a week later in a casket!"

With a loud pop the cork shot out the bottle and struck the Forsaken in the forehead. He gave a small exclamation of pain and rubbed the spot with his free hand. "Can you believe that! Do they not know how to check for life signs? Or un-life signs? It wasn't even a particularly good casket either! Some idiot had stuck a clove of garlic in my mouth as well, I have no idea what that's about!"

His embarrassment was steadily replaced by a mixture of anger and bitterness, with a touch of sadness thrown in. He was now taking swigs straight from the bottle every other sentence. "So I claw my way out, of course - scared a passing student half to death, and it took a few hours longer than expected because they buried me upside down for some reason - but I managed it. But They weren't exactly pleased to see me. I'd failed at the mission after all, and I bet my eye a few of Them were angry that I'd even failed at dying again."

He took another, longer draught and then sighed, gesturing to the room at large. "So they sent me here. Thought it'd be best to 'get me out of the way' until 'everything blows over'. All my work and studies get posted to me now, so I don't think I've been missing anything important at least, but I do miss Dalaran so very much. I wish whatever They're waiting to blow over does so fast."

Crouching down with her nose right up to the dark and cold fire-grate under the stove, Liaena was glaring solidly at her sworn enemy.

The sworn enemy was the unlit kindling. Its accomplice was the spark flints.

The stupid part of the whole thing was that it really shouldn’t be difficult. Liaena had been lighting fires with spark-flints (and many, many other methods) from about the same age she became capable of toddling into them. But just now, right now, it just wasn’t working. Either the spark-flints were damp, or maybe the kindling was damp, and it just wouldn’t—“Fute. Te. IPSUM!”

A shower of sparks flew into the air at a particularly savage smashing of the flints together. Most of them went onto the kindling which spluttered into life. One or two landed on the soft underside of her wrist and burnt sharply before she flicked them away with a yelp. “Ow!”

With the fire finally burning in the stove she dumped the large iron pot she had acquired on top of it, to pile several different kinds of herbs and spices into it none too carefully. After a pause she knelt down, opened the door to the flames and threw a handful of powder inside, which made the flames roar up dangerously as she slammed it shut again.

The mixture looked decidedly unimpressive. It was also a glutinous grey with leaves floating in it, as opposed to the translucent green that it was supposed to be for the correct mixture. The water inside wasn’t even boiling yet on the new fire as she stirred fretfully, poking at the mixture.

It also seemed to be suspiciously quiet, which was not something she was entirely accustomed to. Normally, there would be something along the lines of--

“So, the timer is reset at one day, twelve hours and forty minutes. I thought you were taking potions for this sort of thing?”

“………………………..”

Liaena turned around slowly, to see the small boy sitting on the counter on the opposite side of the room, swinging a cloth bag that was clinking enticingly and wearing the sort of smug expression that would cause many to try and bash in his face with some sort of blunt object. The expression in question, was aimed at her now.
“Hi! Speaking of, I’ve got all your spare potions. Can we talk?”

*

“….So, he’s dead then?”

The two figures were outside, near the well. Liaena was perched unsteadily on a tree stump, with her bare feet drawn up inside her skirt and wearing a cloak of Francis’. She was also the speaker, as she glanced at the black-haired boy.

“Yes. I didn’t do it” Patrick said pointedly. Looking away towards the trees, he glanced back at her briefly to raise his eyebrows. “Trust me; he’s better off out of it. Potions plix?”

“Uhm, sure…” Liaena muttered. Ferreting through the bag of potions she brought out two to scan their labels, eyes flickering over the chicken scratch to place them beside her. “These should help with the decomposition….have I asked, how?”
“Yes. You asked. Twice” Patrick growled. “And I said I didn’t know, twice. It happened, it’s done, let it go already!”

“……”
“……”

Liaena took a peek at the boy, a very small smirk growing on her face. “You know, it looks so cute when you scowl like that?”
“What?”
“It’s so adorable. Sort of chibi?”

“Oh-ho-ho, do you really want to start this with me?” The boy growled dangerously. Turning around he stabbed a finger at her, a smirk growing on his own face. “You, who still measures herself once a month? I know you wear platform shoes...”

“You—“ Liaena flushed, going a delicate shade of red. “At least I have a boyfriend. How’s that going for you again? ”

“Boyfriend? Believe me, I hadn’t even noticed” Patrick drawled. “Next time you see him, tell him to get more hair on his chest, less on his head would you? Waking up sometimes, I swear I thought he was a girl”

“Moron!”
“Shortie!”
“Super-Shortie!”
“Baby!”
“Cultist!”
“HEY!”

“….”

There was a pause, in which Liaena sent the other a lukewarm glare. “You do realise that I hate your guts, correct?”

“Oh totally mutual” Patrick agreed cheerfully. The boy jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the house. “I reckon I won’t be the only one either, given you left the fire under the pot back there”

“I left the fire under the pot?”

*

The explosion was loud and the explosion was impressive, throwing the iron stove clean through one wall to crash halfway into the living room containing the startled group. Outside, Liaena and Patrick were watching the roof as tiles peeled gently away to fall into the kitchen. A nice big hole had been torn in it to look up to the skies.

“I blame you for this entirely”

“Kleptomania, Pyromania, you just keep racking up the social disorders Rune. If you work on it, you might just be able to plead insanity for damages”

*BOOM*

In the seconds after the explosion, Rithrynn found herself scrambling to her feet amidst the (even more) chaotic room, as now Francis' organized horde of junk had been thrown everywhere, and a thick cloud of choking dust was settling across the room.

Coughing as she attempted to make her way through the crashed living room towards the source of the explosion, she could see it had come from the kitchen, and Rithrynn's first thought was of Li who hadn't left it!

''Li!'' Rithrynn screamed, jumping over the half smashed breakfest table where both Sharon and Francis were lying on the ground, fortunately, and unfortunately, unharmed.


As the Night Elf reached the kitchen door and grabbed frantically at the handle to swing it open, what she saw was even worse than that of the living room...

Parts of the walls in the room had been shriveled away, any tables or desks had been shattered into a thousand pieces. The metal oven had been heated and exposed to such a force that the whole thing had split open and bent into numerous, strange directions like some kind of damaged metal plant.

Fire was burning in small places around the kitchen, and there was a sour taste in the air as if someone had attempted to brew some kind of toxic bomb.

But no sign of Liaena...

''Dear goddess, has she been blown to bits!?''

''Li!''

Spotting the broken kitchen door leading out into the backyard, Rithrynn stumbled on through the burning wreckage of the kitchen, dodging any heated metal or burning furniture, she finally managed to escape the smoked kitchen and walked out into the garden.

And there they were, Liaena.. and Selim, standing there, the latter looking awfully glib while the first looked rather ashamed.

''Li!'' Rithrynn's jaw almost dropped, the Night Elf was left speechless as she trodded out into the snow, gasping at the human girl, waving her arms around as though there was something she wanted to say but just couldn't, or wouldn't let herself.

''Li! You just blew up the house!''

''By the light, what was that?!''

After the explosion, there was only total confusion in the room, as the living room was now clouded by a thick mist of dust and smoke shrouding the razed furniture.

''Francis! Rithrynn! Are you okay?!''

Sharon shouted out as he pushed the broken table aside, coughing as he looked up just in time to see Rithrynn's butt fly over him and into the kitchen door in search for Liaena.

Trusting that she would be able to take care of Liaena, or at least notify him if she couldn't, the High Elf turned around and saw the forsaken lying on the floor not far away from him, covered in dust and wooden splinters - but thankfully unharmed.

''Francis, it's nice to see that you're in one piece!'' Sharon exclaimed, a smile lightning up on his face as the High Elf rose up to walk over to the forsaken, lowering himself to grab Francis arm.

''I was quite worried you had been wounded, I'm glad to see that you are still,-''

*RIP*

And as the High Elf was about to pull the Undead back up on his feet, all he heard was a brief snatch; as the undead's entire left arm suddenly came right out of its socket as the High Elf pulled, causing Francis to slam back onto the floor and the High Elf fall backwards through the air and into the wall.

An eerie silence passed, as Sharon's eyes moved from the less-armful Undead, over to the rotten, deceased arm he was currently holding in his hand. Frowning upon the diseased, limb, Sharon turned his gaze back to the forsaken and held it up.

''I think this... ahem! ... belongs to you, Francis.... when was it last you visited an embalmer?''

Francis didn't respond initially, his gaze blankly moving between Sharon's face and his own detached arm. Eventually his mind managed to catch up to his mouth for a moment, and he mumbled "Not too long ago. Just before I came here I think."

Silently he rolled onto his front, used his remaining arm to push himself to his knees, and from there onto his feet. The house was completely wrecked, nearly everything that could be broken, was. As he watched one of the walls snapped and fell over with a crash.

"Why did you" he began , stumbling around what remained of the room. Burnt scraps of paper and ash fell like snow. "How did you-" he continued, sounding more and more distressed as he sifted through debris. His walking stick / staff, neatly snapped in half (sparks spurted out of both ends of the break pathetically). A dozen wine bottles, cracks covering them like spider webs (they crumbled into shards when he touched them). His Shadow idol was on top of one piles, miraculously unharmed. He grabbed it and tucked it under his arm, as a small child would their favourite toy.

He now noticed Liaena and the boy, sitting a good distance away from the wreckage. "Why!?" he shouted a them in shocked despair. "What did I do to you? Was the service not good enough? Was I-" his tirade stopped mid sentence as his brain told him something important.

Arm arm arm arm arm arm arm

He span around to Sharon, now actually comprehending what the elf was holding. He then looked at his right shoulder, noting the pale bone and the thin liquid (steaming in the cold air) that was spurting out. It was slightly tinged green, and smelt strongly of formaldehyde and ethanol.

His brain supplied a dozen or so things to say at this point. But as the pain kicked in, it settled for 'scream in agony'. So Francis did.

Rithrynn’s appearance, closely followed by Sharons, was something of a considerable relief to Liaena as she sat stunned on her tree-stump. They both looked unhurt, which was a great achievement given the circumstances. Even if the questioning was inevitably going to turn too…

“Li! You just blew up the house!”

“…..”

“Well actually, I just blew up half the house” she corrected the Night Elf hopefully. Peering over at the smouldering wreck, she put on her best smile and did her best to look at it optimistically. “I reckon it’ll be right back to normal with a few coats of paint…and bricks…and maybe some of the interior walls might need replacing. It’s fine. I’m pretty sure they weren’t load-bearing”

A few more tiles slid off the roof and fell into the hole leading down into the kitchen. Both she and the Night-Elf heard them shatter. “And maybe the roof might need fixing up. At least it’s not raining. And if it gets cold enough—“ here an icy wind rippled through the clearing to prove her point, Liaena drawing her bare toes further under the cloak as she held up a finger “--the snow won’t melt and damage the fittings! It’s foolproof, really. I’m sure Francis won’t mind”

“WHY!?”

Ah.

Francis minded.

Oh dear.

Liaena quailed before the very, very, very upset forsaken, drawing further and further inside the pilfered cloak as he raged at her. The animalistic scream was just the icing on the cake as she shrunk away, the wave of things-not-having-gone-entirely-according-to-plan coming crashing down on her. “sorry. Sorry! It was an accident, on the light, I swear!”

-FLUMP-

The Forsaken completed his dramatic entrance suddenly and abruptly, by collapsing neatly onto a piece of snow still untouched by fire or cinders as alcohol leaked out of his severed shoulder. Liaena blinked for a moment as she slid gently off the tree stump, her feet sinking into the deep snow. “Uhm…are you all right…?”

Hurrying across the snow, Liaena reclaimed the manky arm from Sharon with minimal squeamishness before kneeling beside the forsaken. Rummaging around in the bag containing her reclaimed potions, she hunted for a moment before coming up with a long, curved, horribly-wicked looking needle and a reel full of quite thick, coarse black cotton. Biting off a significant length of cotton and threading the needle carefully, she stuck the finished product through her cloak in readiness as she started trying to line up the bone in the arm with the connecting socket, ignoring the way he was glaring at her. “I’m going to fix it. Just stay. Still!”

Looking up she glanced worriedly at Rithrynn and Sharon, waving the needle around expectantly. “Are either you injured? At all?”

“…”

“Don’t worry, I have anaesthetic”

Seeing the forsaken in so much pain and despair was something Rithrynn found quite delightful from where she stood behind Liaena and observed the human's treatment of the forsaken, altough she couldn't deny her displeasement with Liaena's intervention that was keeping Francis soul from slipping into the shadows... or whatever vile and wretched places the humans went to when they died.

On another note, it was because of said girl that Francis' house was in ruins and the forsaken himself was lying in the snow, painfully abused, injured, and missused.

''I owe Liaena a sweetroll for this!''

Sitting down in a haunched position next to Liaena, Rithrynn continued to observe the little 'operation', the little doctor preparing to put the arm back into its socket now dripping with alcohol and other unmemtionable liquids.

''Let me help you... ''
''Ri!''

Suddenly, and without warning, Rithrynn had sneaked her arm forward to grab the forsaken's loose limb, snatching it from Liaena, the Night Elf suddenly rammed the arm back into it's socket, resulting in a disgusting 'squelching' sound as the rotten limb was reattached into the body, coupled with a following scream of pain... or was it dispair? ... as the undead was pushed a good half meter through the snow as the Night Elf attached the arm properly.

Smiling to herself, appearantly pleased with her work, the Night Elf turned around to look at Liaena, a big smile on her face, with no sign of hiding the satisfaction she had received from administering the 'reassembly' of the forsaken.

''See? Good as new! You may begin the stitching... ''

To see the two girls work on the injured forsaken was quite simply painful, and Sharon found himself struggling against a deep and strong urge to intervene and make as much space as possible between them and Francis.

But, despite the screams and their questionable... methods, Francis seemed to be actually coming back into one piece as Liaena and Rithrynn seemed to have joined hands in the project - though Rithrynn's intervention was perhaps questioned by Liaena.

Deciding that this was not the time to comment, out of respect for his deceased colleague, the High Elf turned to walk back into the ruins of that which had once been Francis' house, which was well beyond the ability of any repair spells that the Elf could ever conjure.

Not long after, Sharon finally returned to the little group sitting around the forsaken.

In his hands, Sharon carried three glasses, as well as an old, dusty and slightly burn bottle of dwarven brandy.

''I hate to interrupt, ladies and gentlemen, but an explosion of such magnificent proportions is bound to have attracted the attention of every single Sin'Dorei ranger within the radius of a hundred miles.''

Uncorking the bottle and gently tilting it so that the bitter, bronze liquid came to flow out of the bottle, filling up the first glass in his hand while holding the rest in his arm.

''I, for one, would not be sorry if we were to miss out on the upcoming party that is bound to take place here with the green eyed gentlemen of the Sin'Dorei army.''

As Sharon finished filling the glass, he placed the bottle of brandy down into the snow next to them, before he reached forward past Liaena and Rithrynn and held the bitter drink up to Francis.

''I don't know what they will think when they come here, Francis, but... in any case they were to assume anything bad from your behalf and role as a law abiding, proud member of the Horde; you are more than welcome to join us.''

Francis angrily knocked the glass out of Sharon's hand with his undamaged arm, and reached straight for the bottle. It was too far away to grab, but with a thought it leapt to his hand.

"I hate you" he said in Gutterspeak, between gulps. "I really do. I swear to Sylvanas, I am going to slit your throats while you sleep. Not just yours, you rabid, pointy eared, cloth-brained night elf. But yours as well, you stupid, incompetent fat pig of a woman. You are everything that is wrong with Azeroth. I can't believe life is wasted on you. Go suck a rat and die."

In dark moments like these, he understood why people like Putress existed.It seemed fate was content to do nothing but spit upon the undead. Killing everyone and starting again would solve so many problems.

The brandy ran out, and to punctuate his (hopefully not understood, if anyone of them spoke Gutter he was in even more trouble than he was right now) rant, he smashed the bottle against his head. The added pain seemed to drain his rage to boot, downgrading him from 'homicidal' to 'sarcastic'. "Sure, why not?!" he spat at Sharon, returning to Common. "Why don't I just follow the group of murderous arsonists who tried to kill me and then destroyed my, albeit temporary, home? Along with my work and possessions? I mean, what have I got to lose? Besides, if I say no she" - here he jabbed the broken bottle-neck still in his hand in Rithrynn's direction - "will just cut my head off to stop me being a witness. So why not Sharon, huh? Why not? When we are back in Dalaran, I promise you there will be words."

And if the rangers that are no doubt already heading this way catch us, his brain added, I could just say I'm a hostage. No skin off of his teeth. Maybe they'll even shoot to kill!

"Get on with it!" he snapped at Liaena. "Shadow, can you do anything right for once in your life!?"