Undercity was a practical name for a horrifying place. For any living creature it was a nightmare come true, a city teeming with the living dead and ruled by the Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner herself. Here the undead were free to surround themselves with anything their putrid and rotten hearts desired. This included everything in the undead index, from cockroach pets to exposed entrails.

Hyzanthlay arrived in Undercity via giant bat, and was immediately greeted by a page from the Dark Lady. She was relieved to find that Strellabelle had already delivered the report (along with the head), and that her presence in the Royal Quarter was not required immediately. However, Sylvanas herself had requested Hyzanthlay’s presence at a later, as-yet-to-be undisclosed time.

Freedom in Undercity was the best commendation Hyzanthlay could have wished for. The absence of windows, natural light or clocks reflected how little fatigue or time made to the denizens of the undead. Hyzanthlay freely walked along the candlelit corridors with her new demon, a svelte succubus. Heswena was more for show than anything else, smiling suggestively and dipping the ends of her fingers into her mouth as they strolled along. If the demon felt she wasn’t getting enough attention she would crack her whip above her head and moan loudly.

Her business at the bank and auction house concluded, Hyzanthlay decided to relax by casting a fishing line into the moat of green goo that circled the four quarters of Undercity. And here Eucalypto found her.

“My sincerest congratulations, dear Lady!” Eucalypto greeted her with the usual formality. “Such a shame I wasn’t there to see it myself!”

“You didn’t miss much.” Hyzanthlay snarled, peering at him from under the rim of her ratty fishing hat. Eucalypto’s orbs flickered past her however, to the tattooed thigh of the succubus.

“Oh,” he said, eyes flickering with mischief, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your…friend?”

“My what?” Hyzanthlay blinked. It took a moment for her to understand that he was referring to Heswena, since introducing a demon to anyone was just plain silly. This would be like introducing someone to your cooking stove. And it made Hyzanthlay intensely angry.

“And to just WHOM,” and as her jagged, yellow teeth snapped on the last syllable, she waved her hand and the succubus faded away with a sad little moan, “are you referring to as my friend? And you, rogue, Rik told me you got…lost…somewhere?” And she snickered viciously.

“Ahem, well,” the rogue smiled and raised a patchy eyebrow, “not all who wander are lost, as they say. Leather and steel is as good as gold these days, that is, if one can stand the smell of night elf.”

“True enough. You have been commissioned for some armour? A Tauren warrior turned up at the Sepulchre. If there was any doubt she needed new armour before, I assure you, she certainly does now.”

“Ah, Tiponi,” Eucalypto said. “I warned her about the road from Tarren Mill. Take the zeppelin, I said! Would it be inappropriate to refer to Tauren females as ‘bull-headed’?”

“No, just inaccurate. She will be detained; our common friend Rik asked me to pass on the message. Wailing Caverns, is it? Yes, I know the place, near the Crossroads. I find the Barrens disagreeable, but the fishing there is good.”

“Ah, yes,” Eucalypto smiled, “no doubt, you seek the deviate fish?”

“You know of it?”

“The Trolls are poor at keeping secrets. They also like to show off. But come, Hyzanthlay; there is a tavern in Brill and I would be honored to buy you some spirits, and hear your tales of Shadowfang Keep and Arugal!”

“Ask Rik,” Hyzanthlay reeled in a slimy old skull, and recast her line dismissively. “As I said, the mage was devoid of either power or will, and his defeat was hardly glorious. I have no more to say about it.

Do you not have any tales to tell, rogue?”

Eucalypto was quiet for a moment, but he was smiling gently.

“There are jungles to the far south; pirates, herbs, gems…and good hunting. And you will find no better fishing anywhere in Azeroth.”

Hyzanthlay nodded, focusing on her fishing line. The rogue continued.

“The hunting is the best sport. The best of all. And the best game…is Alliance.”

Hyzanthlay reeled in her line, put away her fishing pole and rose from her crouched position.

“Lead the way to Brill, rogue.”

“After you, My Lady.”

Undercity was too business-like to provide any meaningful repose, so undead looking to unwind found their way to Brill. Both Eucalypto and Hyzanthlay could still enjoy spirits and smoke, in spite of their state, and some storytelling.

Over a foaming tankard, Hyzanthlay described the more entertaining points of Shadowfang Keep. Mainly the time that she had been knocked down the stairs. And the battle with Fenrus. She said little to nothing of Arugal. She took to arranging her herbs on the tabletop and draining her tankard as Eucalypto told her about Wailing Caverns.

“It’s the night elves, of course,” Eucalypto explained, and Hyzanthlay nodded her head in mock surprise, gulping down her mead. He went on for a while about a druid named Naralex and his attempt to use the Emerald Dream to rejuvenate the Barrens. His dream had become a nightmare, and a mysterious taint had spread through the place.

“I was only there to skin dinosaurs, perhaps discover some nice gear that some unfortunate had dropped or some great beast had swallowed. And then this Tiponi turns up. Not by mistake, of course; she was there to assassinate the corrupted leaders of the Fang.

“It was partly your herbalism that drew her to me. I must thank you for the mageroyal; not only is it a fine smoke, but you were correct when you said it was commonly used among the Tauren. I was resting by a newly skinned corpse, puffing away, and it was this that drew her to me.

“I greeted her with the usual formality. Oh, snicker all you want, but she is still a proud lady, and a proper warrior none the less! And I am but a humble servant before such nobility, as you know. Of course my greeting surprised her. Such a shame that chivalry is dead. She was also surprised that an undead would be smoking anything, let alone her grandmother’s favorite blend. And what was an undead rogue doing so far from the Eastern Kingdoms? A young thing, but bright enough, and not the least bit repulsed by me.

“I agreed to help her find and kill the leaders of the Fang when I found out they were night elves. Yes, the smell of the place was difficult to endure. I’m grateful for the herbs, as they also masked the reek. Do you have…”

“I’ve put some things together for you.” Hyzanthlay enjoyed how her skills in herbalism never failed to draw Eucalypto’s interest. “The Liferoot is a little tricky to cure, so don’t hassle me about the wait.”

“Of course, my dear; as long as it’s no trouble.”

The sound of raised voices interrupted their conversation. The heated discussion seemed to be drawing closer. It was in Orcish, and seemed to involve a number of undead voices and one familiar Tauren. Eucalypto paused to raise an eyebrow, and then rose from his chair to limp quickly outside. Hyzanthlay waved at the barmaid to refill her mug and continued puttering with her smokables. The scene outside was considerably less tranquil.

“We have been directed to take you to the zeppelin,” the Deathguard said to the young Tauren warrior. “Until it arrives, you will stay where we can see you, or until Eucalypto appears and gives us an explanation for you.”

“There is no need for all this fuss!” She replied tersely. “I was perfectly within my rights when I told the cockroach vendor…”

“Jeremiah Payson has been selling cockroaches underneath the Undercity bank since the day the Dark Lady set foot in the Royal Quarter. That is well before any Tauren muddied our doorstep with their hoof prints!”

“Be lucky we agreed to escort you out of town,” the other Deathguard sneered. “Shall we carve you up instead, and sell the cuts to Stormwind for a few gold?”

Their cruel laughter was cut short. A figure had emerged from the inn nearby and reached them in a split second. The Deathguards didn’t even see him until he appeared before their eyes, hand raised.

“Enough, cur!” Eucalypto snarled and gave the nearest Deathguard a sound slap on his grey cheek. “What insolence! Is this how we treat guests?”

“Your ‘guest’ was harassing Jeremiah,” the Deathguard sounded defiant but he was cowering. The other was pouting and rubbing his sore face. “Accusing him of extorting foreigners!”

“And good for her, because he does.” Eucalypto spoke firmly and quietly. “Gold means little to us, those trapped in a never-ending cycle of undeath. Now, tell me gentlemen, how is a cockroach like a writing desk?”

This seemed to confuse to Deathguards, who wandered back the way that they had come muttering angrily. Eucalytpo turned to the Tauren warrior.

“Greetings, Tiponi,” and he bowed. “Forgive me; Undercity is not known for its hospitality.”

“Well, I should say not!” Tiponi shook her mane defiantly. “Can you imagine? So much silver to buy a bug for a pet?”

“A travesty indeed! Perhaps we should ask Richard what he thinks?”

Tiponi opened her mouth to say, Who? But the word never came out. Eucalypto tilted his head to one side, and a huge dark brown cockroach poked its head out from under his collar. It waved it’s feelers in Tiponi’s direction rather resentfully.

“This is Richard,” Eucalypto grinned wickedly and lifted the little creature off his shoulder. It clicked affectionately in his direction, “purchased from Jeremiah some time ago. They’re great survivors.”

Tiponi could not help but laugh quietly.

“Would you care to join Hyzanthlay and I for a drink while we wait for the zeppelin to Stranglethorn Vale?” Eucalpto carefully tucked Richard back into his collar.

“Indeed, Eucalypto,” Tiponi nodded with relief and saluted her companion before following him inside the inn.

The patrons took little notice of the foreigner who had to duck her head down a bit to keep her horns clear of the beams in the ceiling. Eucalypto’s companion was an undead female, and before her on the table were smile piles of herbs and an empty tankard, still frosty from the now absent contents.

“May I present my esteemed colleague, Hyzanthlay.” Eucalypto raised his voice so the whole tavern could hear him. “She is the accomplished warlock that recently stormed Shadowfang Keep and slew Arugal for the Horde!”

The few patrons roared with approval, and the barmaid provided Hyzanthlay with a brimming tankard on the house. If there had been any blood left in the warlock’s body, it would have been rushing to her cheeks.

“Pleased to meet you,” Tiponi carefully took her seat, as the bench was rather small for her. One undead warrior at another table nodded in her direction, clearly impressed by her size and apparent strength.

“We did meet, before,” Hyzanthlay’s command of Orcish was not as accomplished as Eucalypto’s and Tiponi had to listen carefully. “You were badly wounded, and Mura was tending to you in the Sepulcher. I do not expect you to remember.”

“I do remember the potions. My thanks for that. I see you are also a herbalist.” Tiponi took note of the various herbs on the table, and was distracted by what looked like a bit of Swiftthistle.

“This is difficult to find,” she said, “and very valuable among my people. Do you know its use?”

The warlock looked at her with a raised eyebrow and shook her head. Tiponi opened her mouth to continue but was interrupted by the low, long horn that was mounted on the zeppelin tower just outside. A scratchy goblin voice yelled,

“The zeppelin to Stranglethorn Vale has arrived! All aboooard for Stranglethorn! Vale!”

“We will have much to talk about during the trip, Tiponi,” Hyzanthlay quickly gathered up the herbs; some she had already rolled into small cigarettes. She handed a few of these to Eucalytpo as he tossed a few gold onto the table.

“I’ll see to this,” Eucalypto said, “for today, I travel to the tropics with two lovely ladies, and could very well be the luckiest rogue in the whole of Azeroth.”