Tiponi closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The sun warmed her face and a cool breeze gently ruffled her mane. She sighed in absolute contentment. This was exactly the kind of thing she had imagined during her childhood daydreams. Here she was, exotic travelling companions by her side, on an airship sailing across the sky to an exciting unexplored wilderness. She could hardly contain her excitement. However, the airship operator had failed to mention exactly how long it took to sail across the entire continent, and as the days passed her excitement waned into sheer boredom.

At first she had been mesmerized by the miniature landscape passing by below her, but that had been quickly obscured by the clouds as the zeppelin soared higher. It had been an amazing sight, seeing the white clouds stretched out below like a fluffy blanket. She almost felt like she could reach out and grab them. But days and days of the same sight had dampened her enthusiasm, and now she longed to see something other than those billowy hills of white.

She had explored the airship from top to bottom, and had even been chased out of the engineering room by angry goblins. She admired the little creatures; usually they were fascinating and full of fun stories. These goblins, however, were very much fixated on their work. Her undead companions were better conversationalists, but they seemed to tire quickly of her questions. And that warlock. A demon summoner.

Tiponi frowned. She had respect for all creatures of Azeroth. Living or dead, animal or elemental, all were part of the Earthmother. She had created them, and when they finally drew their last breath they would return to her or watch on from the halls of their ancestors. But not demons. Demons were apart from the Earthmother. They had been brought to Azeroth by the Burning Legion. Corrupt evil creatures whose only purpose in existence was to destroy and conquer the works of the Earthmother. Tiponi growled in contempt.

In opposition to everything she valued, a demon stood on the opposite side of the deck. The beast was hideous. It stood in a revolting parody of a female, with accentuated breasts and thighs that were covered in jagged markings. Its attributes were easily recognizable, from the wicked curved horns on its head to its sharp barbed tail. It veritably reeked of wrongness, and yet Tiponi had to suffer its existence.

As if to laugh at Tiponi’s innermost thoughts the demon let out a giggling squeal and lashed itself with its whip. Tiponi turned away in disgust. She had distracted the warlock with this reaction, interrupting the conversation she’d been having with Eucalypto.

They had been speaking of the Undercity, and Tiponi had interjected.

“How was I supposed to know that?” she had asked, “It seemed ridiculous, who would pay that much for an insect?”

She glanced over at Eucalypto and cleared her throat, “Uh, that is to say…and the armor! They can’t really believe people walk around with that much gold on them. Oh Eucalypto that reminds me, I met this really crazy lady who…”

Tiponi had hissed with a sharp intake of breath.

“What is that abomination!?” An intangible mass of blobby blue stood beside Hyzanthlay where the demonic lady had once stood. Its only distinguishing features were its glowing eyes, devoid of emotion, and metallic bracers on its arm-like appendages. She had then tried to explain the significance of the Earthmother to the undead and why demons were by their nature, evil undesirable creatures that should be destroyed on sight.

It had not gone over very well.

Now she sat on one end of the air ship while the warlock remained on the other. She hadn’t meant to offend her. Forsaken were so hard to understand! She sighed. At least she was leaving the undead lands behind her. Perhaps the people of Stranglethorn would be more amiable. At least something good had come of this trip. She had made fast friends with a troll woman who acted as one of the ship’s guards.

Du’una cackled wildly at Tiponi’s latest question about the Darkspear Clan, and why they fought with other trolls.

“Well, because dey be our enemies. Ya know? Da different tribes be all at war. Like you and the Grimtotems. Da Skullsplitters hate us Darkspears, cos we be Horde now! Ha! They be scared of dat, ya know? But den dey always be hating on us anyway! Haha!!” The troll snorted wildly. Tiponi sat bemused by her extravagant hand gestures as she spoke.

“Dis troll in Stranglethorn you did speak of, I know of him. He be a powerful witchdoctor, strong mojo. You best be careful.”

She dropped a small ball crafted from tree rubber and, while it bounced, attempted to scoop up a handful of troll knucklebones. Tiponi had been disgusted at first, until the troll explained they had been a gift from her father. She had laughed loudly at that for some reason. It was a game Tiponi had come to enjoy, and it made a fine distraction from the monotonous clouds and that thing with the undead.

Tiponi struggled as well, although she was accurate and her reflexes deft, her fingers were simply too large and clumsy to pick up as many tiny bones as Du’una. Once she had nearly lost the rubber ball over the side, but the experienced troll had tied a small length of cord to the ball to prevent such an occurrence.

Tiponi laughed and clapped as the troll fumbled. She might be able to win this time! She concentrated, sticking her lolling tongue out the side of her mouth as she did so.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this!”

Meanwhile, Eucalypto was actually looking forward to an entertaining trip; he expected some tension between his two companions and wasn’t disappointed. After a slight tiff over a demon, Hyzanthlay and Tiponi avoided each other. The warlock retreated to the lower level to smoke from the balcony, and it was not long until Eucalypto joined her.

Tiponi continued her game of knucklebones until it grew dark, drawn by Du’una and her tales of trolls. She decided Hyzanthlay must have cooled down some and decided to rejoin them. They were relaxing on a small balcony that extended from the lower level. Some sort of discussion about politics. The way that Hyzanthlay was ranting, one could tell that she’d had a few. The succubus perched nearby, purring and fussing over her nails. The sun had set over the Great Sea to the west.

“..any doubt about them, just look at the human misery piled against the Greymane Wall. How any of them even survive the night is beyond me!”

“Our family didn’t know the Silverlaines very well,” Eucalypto quietly let a small detail of his former life slip away like the landscape of the Eastern Kingdoms beneath them. He was sitting on the edge, letting his feet dangle over the railing. A line of smoke trailed from the cigarette dangling from his mouth and wafted high over Menethil Harbor.

“As if the gate will ever open. Is there really so many there still?”

“If you don’t believe me, ask Phannuz,” Hyzanthlay raised her voice snapped her fingers. The succubus moaned sadly and faded away. In her place the voidwalker appeared. Eucalypto laughed. Tiponi did not understand the joke.

“As you command,” it said in a deep monotone, and Hyzanthlay could not help how her demon’s presence agitated the young warrior. She had called it an “abomination” earlier and Hyzanthlay had been tempted to remind her that those were the Undercity guards. This thing was actually called a Voidwalker.

“Tell us, Voidwalker,” she sneered, “you were there; what did you think of Silverpine Forest?”

The voidwalker did not have a mouth, but a metallic voice that seemed to come from behind its beady black eyes said,

“I…don’t like this place.”

The two undead collapsed into peals of inebriated laughter. Tiponi frowned.

“I’ve got one, I’ve got one,” Eucalypto leaned back, and as he spoke smoke seeped out of the numerous holes in his head, “Tell me Phannuz, what is your opinion of the delicious Devaite Fish?”

The voidwalker answered without hesitation, “Cannot…resist.”

They collapsed in laughter again, and Hyzanthlay dismissed her minion with a wave.
He muttered, “I go.” And vanished.

Tiponi shook her head and said, “I really don’t understand your humor at all. It’s like paying for a bug. Is that a joke?”

“Are you really so bothered by bugs and demons?” Hyzanthlay said. “When Jeremiah sets up a shop in Thunder Bluff, then you can cry about it. And Azeroth is filled with demons. Better get used to it. Euc?”

He didn’t turn around but simply handed her his lit cigarette, which Hyzanthlay used to fire up the unlit cigarette in her mouth. She placed it back between his fingers and took a long draw from her own. It had to be long, as she was short of breath these days. As she did Tiponi spoke;

“As I said, the Earthmother created all life on Azeroth, and to her and the ancestors they will return. But not demons. Demons are apart from the Earthmother.”

“Tiponi,” Hyzanthlay stared at her, “has it occurred to your Earthmother that Eucalypto and I would rather be pushing up some nice daisies somewhere?”

“I always wanted to be cremated and used for gardening, actually,” Eucalypto’s wide grin was lit up by his cigarette. His orbs glittered with mischief and the stars wheeled overhead. The smoke, combined with a generally relaxed atmosphere, had allowed him less formal speech.

“Ah well, to each his own,” Hyzanthlay said. “At least, that’s what I kept telling myself in Thunder Bluff.”

Tiponi looked at her in surprise. “You…you’ve been to Thunder Bluff?”

“Indeed I have, and I must say I was impressed by your people and the city they built on the mesas. But as for my journey, when I was but a ‘lockling,” Hyzanthlay began, and Eucalypto laughed and coughed, “I was given a staff by a superior with that odd sense of humor. And who is the master of the staff?”

Tiponi didn’t answer. She knew it was Ansekhwa, and where he resided.

“I knew better than to have my demon with me then. At least I knew better than to draw attention to myself in your city. Didn’t seem to make a difference to that warrior outside the master’s tent. Someone you know, no doubt. No, no, she would never have told me her name. Introduce herself? Not likely!”

Hyanthlay let out a loud, drunken burst of laughter before continuing. This startled Tiponi but she didn’t show it.

“Did they tell you to go wait in a cave in Undercity? Did they tell you to go crawl underground where they wouldn’t have to look at you? Perhaps you should visit the Pools of Vision and get a good look at the rotten freaks!”

At this last word, Hyzanthlay tottered to her feet and began to walk towards the stairs leading to the upper deck, muttering to herself.

“Protection from evil?” She snickered, as she stumbled out the stairs and let out a belch; “I AM evil!”

Eucalypto chuckled and waved. Tiponi stared after her swaying form as it disappeared up the stairs.

“I offended her,” Tiponi said sadly.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Eucalypto chuckled. “It is a difficult feat to offend an undead warlock. Hyzanthlay’s demons won’t be much of a bother to you. The beasts she calls from the nether are but mere trinkets to her eyes. Demonology is not her specialty.”

“What is?” Tiponi was almost afraid to ask.

“Destruction,” Eucalypto said, smiling proudly into the starry sky.

Hyzanthlay made it to the top step, and swayed for a moment with the movement of the airship. She stood on the landing for a moment, hiccupped, then sighed and moved towards the railing where a few hammocks were set up. She slowly eased down on one, yawned and stretched, then turned her orbs towards the open portal next to her.

The two troll watchers had been chatting rather loudly until she appeared; now they lowered their voices. Du’una nodded towards her, and then gave Umjin a suggestive shove. The troll reluctantly took a few steps towards the Warlock, who slowly turned and stared defiantly back at him.

“You…you got the good stuff,” he said, his head lowered, smiling. “You leave some for us watchers, yes?”

Hyzanthlay grinned viciously. Leave it to a troll to smell the Kingsblood, and ask for some sight unseen. It was not only a handy herb for alchemy but a classic troll favorite. Not only for smoking but also for tea and cooking; the herbalist in Orgrimmar had gotten a little excited talking about it.

“Indeed, friend,” Hyzanthlay wasn’t the least bit surprised. “But it was not easy to find, and it’s not cheap. My supply is limited, but for the right amount I’m sure…”
“We trade, and not for gold,” Umjin said carefully. “You want some information? That be valuable.”

“Go on,” Hyzanthlay nodded slowly and let her eyelids droop, hoping he would loosen his tongue if she seemed less likely to jump up and melt his face.

“Your friend, the Rogue. He be headin’ north?”

“Why do you think that?”

“It be Alliance territory. Old orchards, farms, small towns. Fun for an undead Rogue and Warlock. There be other things too.”

He paused and leaned closer.

“You be Hyzanthlay, the Warlock that killed Arugal. We hear of you.”

Hyzanthlay turned and glared at Umjin. She was already testy about the delay in attacking the monastery and there was nothing that the Scarlet Crusade wanted in Stranglethorn Vale.

“You know a place called Duskwood? There be undead there. A grove filled with dragons. And a city called Darkshire A small city, that has many…umm…”

He seemed to have forgotten the word in Orcish, and turned to Du’una with a helpless gesture.

“Refugees,” she said. “From the north, from the war.”

Hyzanthlay sat up and turned to look at both of the Trolls. Her round orbs were now shining brightly and she gave no further heed to the Troll’s discomfort.

“They say you don’t know, but that you have a mark.” Du’una touched her breast, close to her heart. “Maybe you be there that day the Scourge came.”

“Before I was a Watcher,” Umjin nodded and continued, “I cross the bridge, and brave the undead to sell the Kingsblood. There be one good customer, he know them all. From Andorhol. He was there, that day. And they say he know the Scarlet Crusade, too.”

“I understand,” Hyzanthlay said softly. “Very well Troll, your price is fair.
Darkshire, was it? And did this…human…have a name?”

“Sure, but he never tell me,” Umjin chuckled. “Nah, he be too smart for that. But he easy to find. He has a dog, about so big.” The Troll lowered his hand to knee-height. “This dog can sniff undead. She be famous for it. But you be clever, you can fool a dog. He have a scar too, on his face.”

Umjin drew his index finger down the side of his face, from his forehead, past his eye, to his chin.

“My thanks, Troll,” Hyzanthlay reached into her bag and pulled out a generous amount of the pungent plant. “Now leave me, and don’t speak to me again.”

Her orbs were flickering with a threatening light. Du’una hurried back to her post and Umjin backed away a few cautious steps before doing the same.