Waquro grunted as his enormous form hit the floor of the hut he had commandeered for the troupe in Stonard. The hard earthen floor was covered in straw woven rugs, hides draped on coarsely made pallets and dotted with small stools for sitting. Some rickety shelving secured by vines was host to various pots, bowls and jugs, some precariously near the edge, looking ready to drop at the slightest movement. A low table was adorned with bowls of worrying types of food, mostly meat, which the humans gathered once lived and crawled in the swamp. Thankfully, there were some slices of bread and cheeses, along with some fruit. A large jug of ale and another of water was also on offer. The earthlings eyed the water suspiciously having failed to see a fresh water supply anywhere in the settlement.

Two windows had been carved out of the mud and twig baked hut looking out to the rear of the settlement affording the lovely view of the wooden barrier wall that protected the huts from the swamp. A lit campfire sat in the centre, it's smoke sifting upwards and out through the hole that served as a flue for the building. For all it was early afternoon now, the thick canopies of the swamp kept the place in partial darkness, so it was a case of tolerating the heat of the brazier or sit in the murk until it turned pitch later.

Bernie, Mel and Mick chose to sit near the outer edge of their accommodation. The smell of dried urine emanated from Mick, the stain on his trousers a visual reminder of his reprimand from the Tauren earlier that day. Along with the sweat, which granted they all suffered from, the aromas in the hut were none too pleasant.

"Can we wash anywhere?" Bernie asked Waquro. "Other than with the crocolisks."

The Tauren's laughter was deep and it rumbled low in his chest. "There are facilities to the left; if you are brave enough to use them."

Bernie nodded and ventured outside to where Waquro gestured. She came across a roughly made wash hut which offered little really in the way of privacy. It was constructed from sturdy enough verticals cut from the surrounding trees and a thickly woven lining which seemed to be a mixture of grasses and vines ran around like a shower door. It enabled the bather to see over the top. Unfortunately, it also meant others could see in if they got close enough. The top had an enormous jug-like container which was filled from hollowed out branches that were engineered to utilise a pump. A tough vine served as the means to tip the jug and its contents over the bather.

She glanced around to see how many unsavouries were in the vicinity. Some orcs were busying themselves at the small forge at the far side of the enclosure. Another couple worked under a low-roofed structure, scraping and de-hairing hides.

More still, seemed to be patrolling the perimeter and she caught occasional glimpses of them as they passed the gates to the settlement. Others were high up in the two watchtowers. A rather well-dressed blood elf, who leaned up against one of the watchtowers, looked haughtily in her direction. He seemed of no threat but she gave him a scowl which clearly conveyed that he "look away". With a slight twitch of his mouth, he did.

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She considered her options. Stink to high heaven or risk giving the orcs an eyeful for a few moments and end up feeling refreshed. She could keep her underwear on so she would be decent at least. She looked around the structure until she located where she could enter.

Carefully she undid the vine tie and a section in the surround opened to allow her access. Once inside she reached over to secure the tie again. She stepped out of her jeans and pulled off her t-shirt. They smelled bad too. She wished she had soap to wash them, but it was a luxury which was highly unlikely to be a consideration in such a feculent community. She draped her clothes over the shoulder-high barrier, then moved to the centre of the shower hut. Reaching out she took a firm grip of the vine and tugged hard. She screamed. The water was unexpectedly and shockingly ice cold.

Mel came shooting out of the hut to see what was wrong and caught sight of Bernie's slumped shoulders just above the wash hut surround. Her hair was drenched. His eyes turned to a blood elf who, with his back turned to Bernie, stood laughing. On further inspection, he saw a number of amused faces all around their location. He could also hear Waquro's deep laughter from within the hut.

When Bernie pulled her hair back from her face, her eyes caught Mel's. He tried his best, but the traitorous twitch at the corners of his mouth gave him away. Bernie glowered, then slowly she started to laugh too.

"Would I be right in thinking that you would perhaps prefer a warm shower, my lady?" the blood elf asked over his shoulder.

Bernie's laughter ceased. She looked towards the blood elf. His face was still inclined to the side, and he was obviously awaiting her answer. Her eyes darted to Mel. He shrugged and pouted. If the elf could somehow ensure it, why not? Had to better than her screaming every time the water hit her.

She cleared her throat. "I would indeed sir, yes, but I doubt it will help the stench without soap."

The blood elf made a gesture with his hand. Bernie caught her breath as warm water suddenly cascaded over her. She looked up. Another wave of his hand and a bar of soap appeared in mid-air. Twitching his fingers the bar levitated towards her.

She smiled and reached out over the screen, catching the bar as it neared her. Stepping back, she lifted the soap to her nose. It was the most beautiful scent, fresh, soft and warm like vanilla and honeysuckle. "Thank you," she said. 

She glanced back at Mel. Her friend nodded and went back into the hut, happy that she was under no threat.

"You are most welcome," the elf answered. "We seldom have pretty ladies through here, so we are not equipped for your needs."

Bernie smirked. This one was a charmer. "You are a warlock?" she asked as she lathered herself thoroughly.

"No, my lady." He sounded offended. "I am a mage."

"Oh! Well, both do magic, so what's the difference?" Game-wise, she never did understand what it was that made one class better than the other.

She watched the elf as he leaned against the watchtower again and crossed his arms. "We are superior," he said with an aloof timbre to his voice. "We have much more class than warlocks or sorcerers whatever you wish to call them. Without doubt we are more focused and more powerful."

"Warlocks can summon demons," she said conversationally.

"A sign that they are incapable of working alone, if you ask me. Minions should only be used if absolutely necessary," he replied.

She smirked. "They can produce health stones and fonts to replenish their comrades."

"We can conjure food and some of the finest vintages in the land," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Warlocks can create fear to repel enemies." She started washing her clothes.

"I can turn them into sheep." The mage was not one for being beaten.

She tried one more. "They make gateways to propel you forward or back."

The elf scoffed. "I, my lady, make portals to help you cross continents, even worlds."

Bernie laughed lightly. This one would have an answer for everything of that she was certain. She had finished lathering her clothes and was rinsing them off. "What is your name, if I may ask?" she said.

"I am Alaen Nightstrider," the mage said with a flamboyant bow. "And I believe I am your ticket out of here." He slowly ventured across, hands behind his back, a cheeky grin on his face.

Bernie inched closer to the shower surround, trying to conceal herself from his curious eyes. "Erm ..." Her mouth twitched nervously.

With a sudden flurry of his hand a silken robe wrapped around her. By the time he had reached the edge of the shower, she was fully covered. His cheeky grin never wavered. "Your clothes will dry soon," he indicated the vapour already dispersing from the fabrics . "The heat in the swamp, as you can tell is quite ... intense."

If she was not mistaken, this elf was being very flirtatious. Ordinarily, Bernie would have responded, but her sights were fixed elsewhere and for all that someone was far away, she sensed something was afoot that may change that. She stepped out from the shower and checked her clothes. The elf was not wrong, they would be dry soon.

The sudden sound of beating wings had all in the compound crouching or readying for battle. Bernie felt helpless dressed in a silken robe, her shards within the hut.

Waquro and Mel came outside, followed by a slightly nervous looking Mick. They all looked skyward, expecting to see green drakes the likes of which had attacked them earlier. What they actually saw was very unexpected. Waquro was standing defensively, his axe at the ready, Hagus and Belmar came round from the side of the hut, also bearing their weapons. Alaen was poised to fire frost bolts at the intruders.

Two orcs were being brought in to land in the clutches of demon hunters, another two flying beside them.

"Do not attack," San'ti shouted before she touched the ground.

"They are not the enemy. They have brought us back from a meeting with Khadgar." Galurk confirmed.

Instantly, Waquro lowered his weapon and signalled for all the others to do likewise. More wings could be heard and they looked to the canopies again. Three more of the creatures arrived. The tallest and bulkiest one clearly the leader.

Bernie looked at Mel and Mick, her jaw slack in utter astonishment. The three of them knew who this impressive creature was.

Waquro stepped forward. He greeted Galruk and San'ti before turning his eyes to the demon hunters. "Thank you, for enabling my colleagues to achieve audience with the Archmage. I am Waquro, Elder of the Ragetotem tribe."

The horned creature inclined his head. "I am Illidan Stormrage," he said. "And we have come to help."

Bernie felt very light-headed suddenly. Alaen stepped forward and grabbed her before her knees gave way. "What is the matter?" he asked her.

"Illidan," she replied. Her eyes widened as she saw the demon hunter look in her direction. "He knows Drew and Sarah." She smiled as she thought that just maybe, she was going to be reunited with Drew, and she could hopefully make him believe she had not just used him to find her way to Azeroth.

Then her body went limp in a dead faint.

"Is she sick?" Illidan asked the blood elf and the human who kneeled over Bernie.

"Lovesick perhaps," the blood elf grinned. His eyes met Mel's, who did not smile back. Alaen cleared his throat when he noted the disapproval in Mel's eyes then continued to aid Bernie, who was slowly coming round.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Mel. She furrowed her brow, embarrassed that she'd fainted. "I feel like such a numpty," she whispered, her eyes just peering past his shoulder at the Lord of the Demon Hunters.

"What on Azeroth is a 'numpty'?" Alaen asked with a wicked grin on his lips.

"An idiot!" Mel said, his hard stare at the mage clearly defining who he considered the idiot was.

Alaen leaned down to Bernie's ear, "Best tell your friend I can turn him into a sheep." Bernie shook her head a little, dispersing the mist of her sudden swoon. She glanced at the mage and Mel before focusing once more on the enormous demon hunter standing in front of Waquro. "Lord Illidan," she called out.

The seven and a half foot demon hunter turned towards her. She was in awe of him and a tad frightened as well. He was enormous, so much larger than she thought he would be, and he looked utterly menacing as he towered over them all. He simply looked in her direction, he did not utter a word at first. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something else. She took the cue. "Am I right in thinking you know Drew and Sarah?" She knew it sounded utterly ludicrous, just spilling out two names, but she also reckoned if what Drew had told her was true, then the demon hunter would know of whom she spoke. Her heart did somersaults when he replied.

"Yes, I do," his voice deep and strangely soothing.

Bernie scrambled up from the ground, Alaen offering a hand to steady her. She accepted but released it as soon as she was vertical. Hesitantly, she stepped forward. "Do you know where Drew is just now?" she asked.

From the hut, a petulant scoff was heard. All eyes turned as Mick came out from the shadows, looking even more dishevelled and smelling pretty rank. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath but Bernie was under no delusion that it would be derogatory. "Alaen," she said looking over her shoulder at the mage. "Any chance you can toss him in the shower and keep him there while he's made more hygienic, including his clothes?"

The blood elf grinned, a little wickedly, and replied with a flourish. "Whatever the lady desires." Quick as a flash, Mick was teleported to the shower and pinned in place by a binding spell before being liberally doused in water and soap. The spell rendered him silent too, much to the relief of all around them. A few low sniggers were heard before the attention returned to the conversation between Bernie and the Lord of the Illidari.

The demon hunter's head was cocked, as if scrutinizing some rare specimen. "You are from the same place as they are?" he asked.

Waquro watched the exchange between Bernie and Illidan with interest. This demon hunter was obviously closely affiliated with the two much-spoken-of individuals from another planet. As such he assumed he would quite possibly understand what significance the phenomenon surrounding Bernie implied.

"Yes, we are," the redhead replied, still a little uncertain of this huge demonised elf.

"And you know Sarah and Drew well?" Illidan asked, a dubious tone to his voice.

"Only Drew," she admitted, "...though not...well well..." her face coloured a warm pink.

A muffled sound came from the shower, followed by a dull thud and splash as Alaen, with a slight adjustment to his spell, knocked Mick down to silence him, but continued with a rigorous scrubbing of the rancid human. Bernie's mouth twitched at the mage's ingenious method of silencing the irascible Mick.

The demon hunter stepped closer to the blushing redhead. "And so how are you here, with the horde?" his tone, while it implied suspicion of the connection between her and Drew, was not taken as a slight against Waquro or those around him.

Bernie flinched as he neared. He was daunting to say the least – impressive, but actually quite scary. The horns were so ridiculously huge, heavy and deadly looking, that one wondered how he managed to keep his head upright.

His physique was mesmerising, however. Glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration, it was all taut muscle and toned to perfection, the tattoos weaving a path across his broad pectorals and ample biceps, but more than that, it inculcated the prodigious strength and power of the one-time night elf. The demonhide wings, enormous, strong and threaded with pulsing veins, rippled in the unforgiving humidity and heat of the swamp.

Although his body had been ravaged by demonic forces, there was no denying the raw sexuality of such a man. Bernie caught herself teetering on another swoon and quickly shook her head to clear her thoughts. She cleared her throat. "A slight disagreement," she explained, a little embarrassed still. "And then Waquro, Belmar and Hagus here, found us in Deadwind Pass."

Illidan was now directly in front of her. With her eyes level at the midsection of his abdominals, she was most relieved she wasn't any shorter. Nerves coupled with her somewhat libidinous thoughts gave way to semi-hysterical laugh. 

Instantly she checked her manners. "Apologies," she said staring up to the runecloth wrap, "I am in awe of meeting you, and inclined to feel a bit giddy by all that has happened to us so far." She subconsciously gnawed her lip.

Waquro watched her curiously. Giddy? Bernie? He thought. He snorted, mildly amused.

"Hmm," Illidan muttered. He glanced at Mel and the drenched Mick. "So, just the three of you? Or are there more hiding?"

"Just us three," Bernie replied. "But I was hoping to meet up with Drew again. I need to ... sort some things out with him."

"I have heard tell he is in Stormwind." Illidan said, straightening, lifting his head, oozing an air of superiority. "However, there are more important things at stake than your ...lover's tiff." He said with aplomb. "You will meet with him soon enough, but for now..." he grabbed her elbow and instantly an anguished cry left his lips.

Bernie's eyes widened as the demon hunter shuddered. She glanced at Mel, panicked by Illidan's sudden change in stature. She watched as the demon hunter's chest heaved. He staggered. "Tiene!" he gasped.

Bernie's jaw dropped, she recognised that name from the tales Drew had told her of his last visit to Azeroth. Illidan pulled her closer. She found herself tight against his body, her other hand automatically came up and pressed on his chest in an attempt to distance herself from the powerful demon hunter, but the act seemed to fuel whatever he was experiencing.

She glanced up and saw his fangs as his lips curled back. His head then fell forward, the huge horns almost colliding with her. His black ponytail swung forward and draped over her face. She tried to pull back but he kept hold of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Waquro approaching. He stopped at their sides and watched with interest, slowly nodding.

The spectacle made Alaen lose concentration and his binding spell on Mick fizzled out. He stared at the mighty Lord of Demon Hunters who was absorbed in some strange reaction to the red-haired woman. Mick slowly stood and peered over the cubicle's wall, his eyes huge. Mel was dumbstruck, uncertain what to do.

Illidan inhaled sharply, pushing Bernie back, breaking their connection. He stood, panting, his head tilted in her direction, fangs still bared.

"You know the spirit she harbours?" Waquro asked, quite unfazed by what he had witnessed.

Illidan turned his attention to the tauren. "Yes!" he said breathlessly. "She was one of my lieutenants. You know of this - this..."

"Possession?" Waquro offered. Illidan nodded. "Yes." The Tauren stated. "Though I did not have a name for the spirit until now."

Bernie was still recovering from her close encounter, which, while not entirely unpleasant, was bizarre to say the least. "Drew spoke of her - this Tiene. And – and I dreamed of her the other night, she spoke of someone called..." she searched her memory for the name. "Camnath!"

Illidan faced her again. His composure returning. "He was her husband. He died before she became one of my Illidari."

Waquro stepped forward. "This is significant in the pending war?"

"War? What pending war?" Mel stammered. He clasped Bernie's hand.

The two orcs who the demon hunters had arrived with stepped forward. Galurk spoke. "There is much we need to discuss. I suggest we all retreat to the hut and share what we know."

Everyone mumbled agreement. All, including the drenched Mick disappeared into the hut.