Rik had always liked Booty Bay. It was gritty and filthy and oozing with character. Virtually every kind of creature in Azeroth that could count gold and tip a mug had wandered over its crooked boardwalks. Even a creature like his friend Eucalypto could find enthusiastic and non-judgmental business partners.

Rogues were generally well off anyway, but Eucalypto was richer than most. He was a talented rogue and leather worker, obsessed with perfection. He knew exactly which ore held the most precious stones and always seemed to know exactly how much the blacksmiths would need.

So it did not surprise Rik when he got word from Eucalypto in Booty Bay. He had enough capital to start to the guild, after only a few days in Stranglethorn. He explained nothing in his letter, which was typical of his cryptic friend. Something that he preferred not be written down, no doubt.

And so, Rik walked cheerily into the Salty Sailor tavern expecting to see a happy wave from his friend, sitting behind a pile of gold and jewels, perhaps. Instead, he found him sitting quietly at a dark little table with his scraggy head in his leather hands. His tankard, sitting sadly next to an unlit candle, was empty.

“Good evening, friend! So nice to see you again!” The Tauren raised one of his massive hands in greeting, hoping to rouse the unhappy creature out of his stupor. But Eucalypto’s head seemed to sink even deeper into his hands, and he remained silent.

“Ahem…what news?” The Tauren asked, as he squeezed himself into the smaller seat and nodded to the barmaid, a plucky little goblin who launched herself in their direction.

“Welcome, friend!” She proudly displayed her sharp little teeth in a sincere smile, but her eyes also regarded his sombre companion as if to say, Are you sure you’re at the right table?

“Greetings! Refill my friend’s mug and I’ll have one of the same, and…” he pointed suggestively at the unlit candle.

“Leave it,” croaked Eucalypto. The goblin widened her eyes and scurried back to the bar with his empty glass.

“Does something ail you, Eucalypto?” Rik felt silly asking a zombie such a question but he felt like he was at a loss.

The undead rogue exhaled heavily, wheezing, and whispered something that Rik couldn’t understand. He seemed to be speaking a strange language.

“Whaddayasai?” Rik snickered and made a face as the goblin lass returned with two foaming tankards. Only her thick hoop earrings and the tips of her ears were visible as she waddled up to them. She didn’t look at Eucalypto before taking the gold Rik was holding out and bolting to another table.

“I…she’s…I can’t find her.” Eucalypto muttered into the table. “She’s gone, she’s been gone…”

“Oh, well,” Rik coughed, wondering who he was going on about this time. That Felstone girl, perhaps. “They…uh… sometimes they come back…”

“No, NO…” Eucalypto waved his hands helplessly, “She’s gone. They took her. We won’t ever see her again. Ever.”

“The Warlock?” The Druid asked. “Hyzanthlay?” She had earned herself some notable enemies, but it was difficult to imagine her being taken anywhere by anyone against her will.

“Your people spoke of her…”

“Our…our people..?”

“I used to watch her, too, but they took her away….”

“Took who, Eucalypto?”

“The Blue Child,” Eucalypto said said, raising his head. For a moment his eyes filled the table with a sickly yellow light before fading again. “They took her…she’s gone. She’s gone forever.”

Rik sighed as Eucalypto took a generous swig from the full tankard. The Blue Child was an old story from his childhood.

Once upon a time, Azeroth had two moons. The bright, white moon and another smaller moon that gave off little light and only appeared on occasion. They nicknamed her the Blue Child. But hadn’t it been a story? Had he really seen the moon in his childhood, or was he remembering an old dream from the fireside?

“Oh, Eucalypto,” Rik sighed and dug his flint and tinder out of his pack, “how do you expect to find anything at this dark little table? No wonder you keep losing things.”

As he spoke, he opened his tinderbox and began to strike a small spark.

“The Blue Child was pleasant enough, as the stories say,” he continued in his gruff but pleasant Tauren tone. “But she gives no light, so perhaps you need some of your own.”

The little spark caught on the bit of tinder that Rik was holding. How many rainy, windy nights in Mulgore had the light of a small fire been a beacon of hope for his whole family? These days he could light a simple candle in his sleep.

“There now,” the little spark clung to the wick and happily grew, “we can have light whenever we want it.”

Eucalypto blinked at the little flame, as if he had never seen fire before. He sighed again, and dropped his head.

“I’ll never see her again,” he mumbled.

Rik sighed and sipped his mead. Perhaps he had left his friend alone for too long. Any discussions about money or the guild would have to wait until morning.

* * *

Hyzanthlay crouched rather miserably in the dark shadows near the Swamp of Sorrows. The air reeked of dragons and herbs. Quite a pleasant place to stop and catch her figurative breath. The first few rosy fingers of dawn were creeping in from the misty ocean, and as soon as she was sure her pursuers had given up the chase did she turn and make her way to Stonard.

The previous several hours had not been very productive. They had begun well with the meeting in the tower but things had degenerated from there.

The three undead talked well into the afternoon. The small, narrow tower was soon clouded with smoke and hoarse whispers, punctuated with the usual laugh or angry outburst. Hyzanthlay didn’t always agree with her hosts, but it was refreshing to speak to like-minded undead, aware of their state, unashamed and unrepentant. They went on at length about the Royal Apothecary Society, the Forsaken, and the Dark Lady herself. Eventually, the conversation turned to more casual matters; namely, herbalism and her personal reasons for being in Duskwood.

“So, no recollection at all?” Zraedus said, rubbing the bit of flesh left on his chin.
“Not so unusual. It has been known to happen. It might be better to forget. But you think this human can help you?”

“I’ve seen these two, this man and the dog that the Troll spoke of,” Faustin said.
“They are fairly well-known. This man, he comes to the graveyard outside of the Tower sometimes. Some humans do, to pay their respects. Many died here during the first war. But he only comes and drinks and then falls asleep.”

“Careless fool,” snarled Zraedus. “If it wasn’t for the stink the damn dog would raise every time we move, we would have eaten him by now.”

This prompted a hearty laugh among the small gathering. Hyzanthlay grinned, but inside she was distraught. So far, he just sounded like an average human who had gotten lucky in escaping from Andorhal. If he even saw her, he would probably run and hide. And as for the dog, at best she would make a nice pair of leather boots for some young rogue. A promising lead was starting to feel like a dead end.

Even if she managed to meet him, and he did not run away, what could he tell her?

She thanked them for their gracious hospitality, and they apologized profusely for their humble offerings and invited her to return. When she stepped out into the night she did not have a clear plan. Destruction Warlocks were by nature poor planners, losing interest in anything that took more than three minutes.

Well, if he did business with Trolls and Tauren, maybe it was time he meet another illustrious Horde race. If he had survived Andorhol intact, how squeamish could he be?

Hyzanthlay took her time exploring the area near the tower. She saw signs of dog and man, enough to know that they came here often and had been here recently. There was no rush, as the hillsides were dark and quiet. She found dog tracks, clearly from a domesticated creature that didn’t think about leaving prints in a familiar place.

A human had rested here the night before, and Hyzanthlay could still smell the blood in his veins as much as the booze that had tainted his breath. There was no trace of smoke in the air. She touched her herb pouch and hoped he would appreciate their exchange.