Kopf's Story

- by Kopfjagger and Lucia


Slather was simply amazed at Kopfjagger's devotion to the Human. He had met his fair share of Forsaken, and each of them were bitter, hateful people eager to end all life, especially Human. But Kopfjagger deeply cared for Lucia. Deep down the Troll hoped that he would learn the full story eventually.

He reminisced of his own mate, undoubtedly missing him in their little flat in Orgrimmar. They had met back when Slather had defended her from a marauding human in Ratchet. She was eternally thankful to him, and soon a deep relationship developed. They hunted wild prowlers, back in the day, and spent hours at night just talking by the Forgotten Pools. She was doubtlessly anxious to see him again, and he looking forward to seeing her and their little boy.

The Shaman rummaged in his packs to locate a pen and parchment. Next he pulled his ancient Hearthstone from his pack. While not the most efficient mode of travel, they were still widely used. But Slather had advanced in his training far enough that he didn't really need it anymore. He figured that Kopfjagger did, as his was probably bound to a post that would kill him on sight. He took an old linen scrap, wrapped it about the stone. He wrote on the parchment in Orcish, the only language the two shared.


This stone is bound to Orgrimmar. You may go ahead and use it. I have my own mission to finish, and my own family to see. If you wish, I own a flat in the Valley of Honor, not far from the arena where you can visit me and rest your weary bones.

Don't worry about me. I can handle my own transportation. I hope you found whatever you were looking for in that Human.

Be well and I hope to see you soon.

- Slather,
Shaman and Servant of the Horde
Slather carefully folded the parchment over, and placed the wrapped stone on top of it as a paperweight. He looked about to make sure he wouldnt be seen, and grasped his Earth totem. He didn't need it, but it comforted him as he began to Recall to the Inn in Orgrimmar. He was nearly finished when he heard a Human in polished plate mail shout at him in a language he didn't understand. Slather didn't dare rush himself, for if he made a mistake there was no telling where he would end up.

An arrow embed itself in his side interrupted the long Recalling spell. The plated man holstered his crossbow and unsheathed his sword and shield. Drawing his own weapon and shield, the Shaman prepared to defend himself. Taking a brief moment to size up his opponent, Slather realized this would be a very difficult fight. The human wore brilliant Plate mail, with the head of a Lion embossed upon the breastplate.

The Shaman bolstered his weapon with the spirit of Fire, and swung at the Human who easily blocked the blow with his shield. The added power of Flame partially melted the metal. With what remained of his shield, the human bashed Slather down the ground, and prepared to impale him. Looking up at the gleaming sword, the Troll quickly rolled to the side, avoiding the quickly falling point, and followed with a blow to the Human's kneecaps. The human took the blow like an expert, not allowing Slather to bend it backwards and break it. A plated boot found Slather's side, causing the Troll to curl up protectively.

Slather sprang to his feet as best he could and blasted the Human with a shock of Frost. Somehow, the Human resisted it, and brought the sword's hilt down impossibly hard on Slather's unprotected head, rendering him unconscious.

At first the stealthed Forsaken could not see very much through the opened window, but he could hear a great, joyous commotion. It soon settled and he could make out the two wonderful children, a Night Elf and Lucia. She sat with her back only inches from him and began to tell a story.

He stood there at that window, hunched over with the light bending protectively around him. The flowers rose up past his knees as he listened intently. The way that she recounted the story was easy for him to follow. She used words that her children would understand, which meant that he could follow most of it as well. It was difficult to not chuckle and laugh at certain parts; especially when she turned him into a sheep.

Lucia left out most of the horrendous parts of their journey, which was to be expected considering her audience. Her voice was simply overpowering to this Forsaken that was trained from re-birth as an assassin; to this sad little creature hunched over a flower bed and hidden from view. He was not ready to leave yet, but he knew that it must be soon.

What he witnessed in that home that morning made him realize that it had all been worth it. The entire journey was something that he would do all over again if it meant that it could end this way. Lucia was happy, her children were smiling and hugging their mother (while smacking and sticking their tongues out at each other). Family is something that he yearned for more than he realized.

But the time had come to leave this place, for now. He knew that he would return, however. More than likely it would be sooner than later, he confessed to himself. He wanted to make sure that the children wanted for nothing and that his precious Lucia lived as comfortable a life as possible for the rest of her days. He wasn't sure how yet, but he would help this family any way that he could.

Before she could get to the part in her story where she had to say goodbye to him, he departed from the window. He whispered onto the breeze through the window the Forsaken word for love. It seemed appropriate. He was confident that Lucia would be the only one that would hear it and most certainly the only one that would understand it.

He made his way back to where he had left the Troll, still under full stealth. He wove between the humans that were crowding the streets, making sure to leave their pockets alone as he went. Today and this town combined to make him almost generous.

Slowly he made his way past the bored guards to where he had left Slather. Looking around, it appeared that the Shaman had already left the area. Spotting a round, flat stone, Kopfjagger went over and picked it up as well as the parchment it sat upon. Reading the note he smiled to himself. This Troll was truly a friend.

He decided not to delay and began to hearthstone to a new home. The last thing he saw before light flashed and he felt himself being pulled into the nether for the journey was a small pool of blood and a broken totem.

"What have I done," he exclaimed to himself from the Inn at Orgrimmar. "I have left the Troll!"

That drew funny expressions from those crowded into this tiny Inn. He had been here many times before, but the city was so large that none of the faces were familiar to him. He had to go back. The Forsaken had given his pledge of unending loyalty. But first, he needed to check the small flat that Slather spoke of. Perhaps he made it out okay.

Slather awoke on a stone floor, his wrists chained to the wall, stripped of all his equipment. His headache was tremendous. He couldn't use the Recall spell like this, lest he drag an entire prison through the Ether and into the heart of Orgrimmar.

Regardless, he needed to reclaim his Totems. Such things may appear to be mere tools to other people, but they were a symbol of nature and a piece of one's soul to Shaman. To take them was an insult below insults. Slather strained against the chains with all his strength, but no avail. Defeated for the moment, he let himself drift back into unconsciousness. His last thought was a waning hope that he may be able to think more clearly upon awaking.

((This part of the story was written in partnership by Kopfjagger and Lucia. I have the honor of retelling it but at least half, if not more, of the creative power comes directly from Lucia even though her name does not appear to the left of the post. *bows deeply to Lucia* Thank you, Lucia, for letting me retell our story, I hope to do it justice.))

Forsaken ChainedEdit

The Forsaken rogue went to find the flat that Slather described to him. He made it through the busy streets past the Auction House and winding streets of the Orc capital and the Trolls adopted home. This was not his first visit here, but it was the first time he had ever thought of this place as home.

It was bright.

He didn't like bright places very much. Not only did it hurt his eyes, but it made his pale, grey flesh seem even more rotten. This was a place for the living. He did see many other Forsaken, but they came and went in a hurry. He doubted very much that they would ever consider this home.

It took a bit of time, but he found the flat and asked the lovely woman Troll if she had seen Warook lately. When she said no, her expression changed from suspicion at the Forsaken's presence to alarm.

Kopfjagger quickly related the tale of their journey together and in the presence of Slathers mate, he vowed to go and find him. He had been meaning to get back to Goldshire soon anyway. She did not seem to give much merit to his words until he let her know of his vow of loyalty, enumerated the debts that he had accumulated to her brave Shaman, and how he would see Slather safe no matter the cost. She nodded through her tears and the quietly closed the door in his face.

And with that, he was off. He was very familiar with the route, but he had a stop to make first. He took a quick flight to the Crossroads, then mounted up and rode along the dusty road to Ratchet. Stopping at the goblin bank, he changed out his Horde gold for that of Stormwind.

"No one will think anything the matter with a Forsaken rogue carrying around Stormwind coin," he thought to himself. "Rogues are very good at accumulating the money of their enemies." He hefted the small leather bag in his hand. Shaking his head at how light the bag was, he stuck the bag under his leather chest plate.

He took the boat into Booty Bay, eyeing the countless Alliance that came and went in what he considered Horde territory. Their numbers were more than impressive, he mused to himself. It is absolutely frightening. But what if some of them are like his precious Lucia? How was he going to battle his enemies now that he was in love with one?

A question for another time, he decided. From Booty Bay he took a quick flight into Grom Gol then retraced his steps back to Goldshire. The journey was much quicker and safer by himself. The foes in these areas fell quickly to his blades and what he did not wish to fight, he simply stealthed and ignored.

Finally, he was at Goldshire. He crept up to the kitchen window and took a peek inside. The hour was still early, but the sun was about to poke over the horizon. A throwing dagger unhooked the simple clasp on the inside of the shutters. Carefully opening the shutters, his gloved hand reached in through the window and deposited a small sack of gold.

It was all that he could spare and it was vastly short of his expressing his emotions towards her, but it was the best that he could do. He made sure that there was a single sprig of Peacebloom in the sack so that his precious Lucia would know that he thinks of her. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the amazing woman only feet from him, but it was very dark in the house and the sun had just started to peek over the distant hills.

He snuck back out of town and began to run through where the Alliance would take a captured Troll. His thoughts quickly turned to the Stockades and he knew that he would probably not make it out of there alive. If skill and luck both held miracles, he had something resembling a chance.

Shivering in the cool morning air, he made his way towards Stormwind. Thoughts of Lucia and her children quickly warmed him as he crept along the lonely road into the heart of his enemy.

Being home was so wonderful and the days began to blend together, lost in routine. Lucia and her children said a fond farewell to the gracious Night Elf Priest that had stayed and cared for Alexi and Loria while Lucia had been away. Then the day to day living took over.

During the busy hours between sunrise and sunset Lucia was pre-occupied with the running of the household and keeping her children relatively safe. Yet still, a scent or a flash of color, a sound on the wind and she would stop and drift back into memory. Kopfjagger was always on her mind. She wondered how he fared in his new home, if he thought of her and mostly, if she would ever see him again. It was not worry so much as was hoping. She sent her hopes to him silently in her heart as she busied herself.

In her bed, the sun just starting to rise, Lucia was awake and staring at the ceiling. Soon she would have to get up and being the chores, but for now she was content with having a still moment to daydream and regret.

Finally a ray of light peeked over her sill and fell across her face. A new day had begun, one that would most likely be like yesterday and the day before that. She did not see the shadow leaving the kitchen window so far away. Once she was up her chores started immediately. She made the bed, washed the sleep from her face and headed out to tend the cows.

Once she was done that, she headed into the kitchen, milk pails full, and got ready to make breakfast for her children. She saw it and stared, the image not fully registering in her mind yet. Her head tilted slightly to the side, just as her daughter does when puzzling something out.

On the counter below the window was a sack. A tiny bloom tucked under the leather thong that held it closed. She dropped the pails and burst out the front door. She scanned the area for any sign of him. She ventured away from the house in case he was concealed just on the borders or town. She dared not call out to him, but her eyes searched everywhere for her rogue.


Head down she went back to the house and approached the sack.

She gasped when she opened it and a gold coin slipped out and fell to the floor. She bent down and picked it up, and placed it back inside with its cousins. There was so much! The possibilities flooded her. There was so much she could purchase for her children now. She could hire that McClure boy to fix the roof now.

With a sigh, Lucia clutched the bag to her chest before putting it in a safe place. Smiling, she went out to gather the eggs. Though she didn't get to see him, she knew Kopfjagger had been there and that thought made the day's chores go by so much faster.

Thoughts of Lucia followed the Forsaken as he skirted the road to Stormwind. She was on his mind completely, and he was walking into the jaws of death for another friend. This one he had sworn his eternal gratitude to. But his mind was on the human woman that owned his heart that, until he met her, was worthless dross.

He made it to the ramp leading into Stormwind before he knew it. Thoughts of children laughing and playing and of his precious Lucia ran through his mind as he skirted past the guards and that pompous human sitting atop his horse.

The rogue was not even sure where he was going and this was not the place an undead can ask for directions. The sun was well up, yet drowsy in the morning sky. In true fashion of a large city, the road was already full of people rushing here and there. It seemed that the humans rarely walked.

He began to weave his way to an alley when a guard turned suddenly and slammed into him. His veil of stealth, his safety, was gone. The guard let out what could only be assumed as a battle cry and slammed his shield on Kopfjaggers head. He could almost see the stars.

Trying to turn, he ran into a towering human in plate armor and a crest he did not recognize. It must be one of those mercenary paladins he had heard about.



Kopfjagger awoke chained to a wall in a cell all by himself. There was no sign of the Troll but there were humans, elves and dwarves gathered on the other side of the room.

Lucia sprang to his mind, but he quickly tucked those thoughts away in his heart. He was in the hands of the enemy, but she was safe. It appeared that they wanted to ask questions of him and him alone. Whether or not the Troll made it was something that he could not think about now. If he was going to make it out of this cell, he was going to have to use all of his cunning.

But Lucia was safe. Nothing else seemed very important compared to that.

((This part of the story was written in partnership by Kopfjagger and Lucia. I have the honor of retelling it but at least half, if not more, of the creative power comes directly from Lucia even though her name does not appear to the left of the post. *bows deeply to Lucia* Thank you, Lucia, for letting me retell our story, I hope to do it justice.))

Dreamless SleepEdit

Slowly the Forsakens eyes adjusted to the lighting. The lone door off to his right was closed firmly. A tiny barred window set at the top third of the door let in no light. The dank, dark stone walls dripped and oozed seemingly on their own. Directly across from him, no more than twenty feet, was a thick oaken table. Various pieces of battle gear, parchment and a few feeble oil lamps rested on the table that seemed to have been in this cell for ages.

Human guards, clad in bright plate armor with spotless tabards, flanked the Forsaken. Longswords rested in their scabbards and the soldiers stood ram-rod straight. Looking up at his own hands, Kopfjagger noticed that each hand was separately bound by thick metal bracers that were chained to the stone wall. The chains had enough slack to allow his arms to move, but not enough to lower his arms to his sides. His feet were likewise independently chained to the wall. His range of motion was limited, but some movement was possible. The image of him being drawn and quartered entered his mind and an involuntary shiver worked its way down his spine.

There he stood; chained before his enemies. He twisted his neck suddenly and violently. A loud crack was heard as the upper vertebrate popped violently. He let a pleased sigh dribble from his mouth. Chained though he may be, he was not defeated. He allowed a smile to show his teeth.

The Forsaken chained to the wall took a moment to look over those silently gathered in the room. It was as if the entire room was holding its breath. He resisted the urge to scream Boo! but it was difficult to hold in.

Pacing behind the table, with a solid metal helmet under his arm, was a warrior of sorts. His body with slender and did not present the physique one would normally associate with a taker of lives. The Humans neck was entirely too thin to be sticking out of armor that profound and stoutly built. Billowing behind the man was an ornate cloak that seemed to shimmer with a magic woven into its threads. The ink-stain on the mans nose betrayed him for a high level clerk dressed in his parade best. The only combat he had seen was probably with a tower of falling scrolls or a stubborn desk drawer. Kopfjagger let out a quiet snicker as he watched the human strut awkwardly.

Sitting around the table were others, but none really piqued his interest yet. It was the human that he had his eyes on. Sure enough, the human strutted around the table, hands behind his back. Someone shifted something on the table, but the Forsaken never took his glowing eyes off of the man.

So, Scourge, it seems that many in the Alliance have interest in your kind. Kopfjagger was stunned that he could so clearly understand what the human was saying. It had taken him hours to pick up the smallest of phrases with Lucia, and yet this human was speaking the tongue of the Forsaken with ease.

Noticing the shock on Kopfjaggers face, the human casually gestured to the table. There sat in the center a small, dark box with many wires and a small antenna sticking out of its top. That, said the human, is a goblin device for translating any known language into the language of the listener. The human then casually walked a few steps closer to the chained Forsaken.

Tell me, Scourge, what are the weaknesses of your breed? A taunting smile spilled over the mans face. Rocking back and forth, from heel to toe, the human looked almost playfully at the chained enemy he was addressing.

Okay, Kopfjagger thought to himself, this could be amusing. He tried to speak but his mouth was incredibly dry. He managed to get out a weak request for water, which made him wonder quietly to himself. Never in his un-life had he recalled being thirsty before.

An elfin female arose from the table gracefully. She was seated before a thick stack of parchments that were carefully unruffled as she rose. Smoothly, she dipped a ladle into a bucket by the door and glided over to the Forsaken. This was quite wonderful, Kopfjagger thought to himself. The cell even came with beautiful serving women. Not bad, he thought as he sipped from the ladle.

The water seemed to be soaked up by his mouth before it even hit the back of his throat. Smacking his lips rudely, the one-time assassin for the Dark Queen smiled up at the elfin beauty and gave her a wink.

Pain ripped into his jaw. The whip crack followed immediately. Once his vision cleared, Kopfjagger looked over at the human man. A whip hung loosely in his hand, the tail of it snaking back to his side. Feeling a tooth floating free in his mouth, Kopfjagger spit with all the force he could muster. The tooth bounced off the humans shiny, oversized breast plate.

You are not here to ogle the Questioners, Scourge. The dictate was delivered by one who was accustomed to people obeying. Well, Kopfjagger thought to himself, he was no person. Nor did he have any intention of playing these silly games any longer.

Silence descended once again. Glowing eyes met brown. A rat scurried under foot. The dripping walls and the faint sound of a trickle was the only sound for many a long minute.

Finally, the human man walked over to the table and picked up an empty vial from a rack of similar vials. He toyed with it and set it back down. Most of the vials were empty but there were two more with a dark blue liquid in them.

Turning back to face the Forsaken, the man flourished his cloak, as if showing it off to those at the table. Two knots of golden thread were easy to make out in the flourish. Obviously it was some sort of denotation of rank. Kopfjagger did not bother to hide his eye-rolling.

These, Scourge, are a heavily modified Dreamless Sleep potion. We usually reserve it for the maniacally insane, but the Council decided that it was to be tried on your breed as well. That sickly taunting smile was back. The whip was not coiled, but rather swayed lazily in the humans hand.

I must say, Scourge, that it had a most profound effect on you. For sentient beings, the effect of one potion is usually twenty some odd hours of sleep. For your mindless breed, however, it was nearly a month for each dosage. Most curious that. The lecturing voice drifted off, adding counter-point to the stunning revelation.

Kopfjaggers mind swam with the implications. Lucia! How long had it been since he last saw her? What of Slather? How long had he been asleep?

The shock must have been most evident for the human reared back his head and laughed. It was not the laugh of a madman, but it was not far from it either. The laugh was made all the worse by the echoing in the small, stone chamber. Orange replaced the yellow glow in the eyes of the Forsaken chained to the wall.

((This I had to rewrite completly from scratch. The chapters may slow down for a while as I re-create from scratch part of a thread that happened many, many months ago. Please bear with me. Thanks.))

End of Kopf's Story Book 16
[<---Book 15] [Book 17--->]

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