Archive of Our Own ^beta

Let's see what LightTroll and Murderpuppy are up to in this chapter of ScourgeBane.

Remember folks, this is heroes we're talking about.

A Champion even.

Although the line between Champion and murderhobo is quite thin - or nonexistent if you're playing Dungeons and Dragons.

Standard disclaimer - WoW belongs to Blizzard, it is not mine, I am simply worshipping it from afar. Less worship after they did Vol'Jin dirty…

＊＊＊

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly before them, trees twisting toward the sky, forever locked in spring by the Quel'dorei. Lazar trudged forward, his long strides crushing errant twigs beneath his boots. Behind him, the girl - grumbling, scowling, and occasionally throwing rocks at his head just because - did her best to keep up.

Lazar wasn't paying her much mind. His focus was inward, on the swirling, radiant power coursing through him since he unlocked the Light.

It was odd. And he was finding he liked odd.

The Light shouldn't work like this. The power of the Light in Azeroth demanded faith, obsession, or absolute conviction. It responded to belief - not just in itself, but in ideals that its believers often shaped it around - righteousness, vengeance, duty. It wasn't inherently good, but it demanded dedication to be able to use it. Hence why a lot of fanatics that did a lot of plain evil shit could use it.

The thing was, although he knew the light was real, he didn't exactly believe in it in any religious manner, nor was he particularly devoted to it, obsessed, or a frothing at the mouth fanatic (Looking at you Sally Whitemane...)

For how Azeroth worked - he shouldn't be able to use the light like he was. Yet somehow, here he was, wielding it as if it were a natural extension of his will. No fanaticism. No chanting prayers. Just… Sheer ease.

As they continued to trudge through the forest heading towards the border with Lordaeron, the land which would soon enough be called the Eastern Plaguelands, Lazar played with his newfound power.

Once more, Lazar called upon the Light, letting it flow through him with an ease that still felt surreal. Warmth suffused his body, a radiant energy that buzzed beneath his skin like a thousand tiny suns. As he concentrated, the ground beneath him began to shimmer, then glow, faint at first, like sunlight catching on dew.

Within seconds, the shimmering expanded into a golden glyph of consecration, intricate and mesmerizing, spreading out in a perfect circle from where he stood. Holy ground coming into being at a simple thought of his.

The glow was harsh and undeniable, the kind of golden light that made the shadows shrink back as though unworthy to share the same space. The air around him grew warmer, charged with an almost electric hum, and the faint scent of something clean - like a breeze rolling off a mountain spring - wafted through the forest around them. Holy purity briefly reigning supreme.

The glyph extended outward, reaching the ten-foot radius he'd found was his limit with a soft but decisive pulse, as though declaring its boundary. Then, just as quickly as it had flared to life, the light at the edges began to waver, flickering like a dying ember. Within moments, the outermost symbols fizzled and faded, swallowed back into the earth as the golden glow retreated toward him, leaving the ground untouched save for a faint, lingering warmth.

The ease in how he could use it was ridiculous. And a bigger boon then the literally mythical weapon he'd received in the Silver Hand.

He'd practiced in the cave as soon as he was able to wield the light of course, eager to find out what he could do. He even cast resurrection on a kobold. And it worked! Resurrection! As a newbie lightbringer who had no idea what he was doing!

As far as he could tell, he had a limited amount of light, that only worked in a ten foot radius around himself. But he could do any 'one' technique he wished within that limit - as long as he had the power for it.

He'd covered himself in a bubble of pure light just thinking about it, an encompassing 360 degree shield. He'd practiced surrounding his new mace with an aura of holy wrath, which was as easy as wishing it so - he even lightforged a Loa damned kobold pickaxe just by picking it up and thinking of it.

Lightforged!

He wasn't constrained by the techniques of Paladins or Priests. The light would literally do what he wished as long as it was within its power - and his. A ridiculous power. Too OP plz nerf… Is what he would say if he didn't desperately need just this for the coming scourge invasion.

So far, as far as he could tell with his practice, he didn't have enough juice to do much more than one or two techniques before needing to wait for his 'reserve' to tick back up.

It wasn't anything like what this world's setting was like, it was incredibly more versatile and powerful and would only grow more powerful with time. He had the feeling that the upgrades here once he hit 250/500/750 on the kill scale, would enhance the gas in his tank, and his reach. Which meant he might be able to cast more than one technique at once.

An image of him trolling through a battlefield, casually resurrecting people ala Anduin, while wailing away at them with mace blasts of pure light flittered through his mind. He felt absolutely giddy about the sheer potential in this. He might not even switch to any other skill for the next year at this rate!

Also, despite picking the Light immediately, even with his reservation against any mind altering powers - scourge invasion, 'nuff said - he didn't actually feel any of that. It was nothing more than a warm feeling, like taking a dip in a warm bath, to use it. His Mace gave off more of a feeling - and he believed that was the weapon itself more than the actual Light, now that he'd experienced this version of the Light.

Feeling his reserves having dipped a decent amount from the consecration, he giddily used his Mace of Justice to smash a tree asunder that was in his way, the light coating his mace until it shone like a miniature sun as he eradicated the foul tree that had dared to get in his way, bringing his reserves down almost to the bottom, a tiny bit left in the tank.

"Stop doing that!" The girl screeched from behind him. Another rock flew through the air, bouncing off the back of his head.

"Let a bruddah have his fun, mon." Lazar said with a broad grin, slinging the Silver Hand over his shoulder letting it attach to the magnetic clamp hooked onto the leather band across his back. The massive weapon radiated a faint silvery hue even at rest, unless he forced it inert. "Dis be a good day fer da holy mojo, yah?"

"It's not a good day! It's an insane day!" She snapped, her shrill voice cutting through the air. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you see what you're doing? You're breaking reality every time you wave that stupid mace around!"

She threw her hands in the air, then clutched at her face in frustration as she struggled to contain her emotions. "Father Rorick would die of shock if he saw this. I want to die of disgust." She complained, having been irritable ever since he'd left the cave suddenly capable of wielding the Light out of nowhere.

Lazar chuckled raspily, shaking his head. "Ya takin' dis kinda hard, girl. Ain't as bad as all dat."

"Hard?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she stomped up to him. She jabbed a finger into his gut with all the force her tiny frame could muster. "You went into a cave as a normal savage beast, and came out somehow wielding the Light with an ease I never even saw in the priests belonging to my fa-" She suddenly clicked her teeth together looking sickly, before looking away, glaring at a bush so hard he was surprised it didn't spontaneously combust. "The Light doesn't work that way!" She instead raged, her face was flushed with anger, and her voice cracked as she spat out the words. It wasn't just outrage - it was disbelief, a desperate attempt to hold on to what little sense her world still had.

Like he'd demonstrated, he could basically do whatever he wanted within his teen feet area of effect. Such a cheat power... He understood her disbelief and anger. He also hadn't missed her aborted comment. He'd already suspected of course. A girl in the tween age who could apparently read and write and was fairly well spoken - daughter of a noble, obviously.

Although her stealth abilities, affinity for daggers, and the ability to get away with the theft of magic books pointed in a very different direction. And with her obviously having run away from home, he was somewhat curious what kind of noble family she'd fled from, one that obviously had given her rogue training.

Not curious enough to ask, she'd be gone soon and he didn't need the complications.

"The Light must have glitched somehow, it just doesn't work that way…" The girl mumbled almost to herself, still looking a bit wild eyed, not taking his sudden skill all that well.

"Ya sure, mon?" Lazar asked, cocking his head. He snapped his fingers, and a burst of radiant sparkles appeared above her head, glowing faintly under the dim forest canopy. They shimmered like stars before cascading down in harmless little motes of energy.

The girl froze, staring at the sparkles with wide eyes. Then she let out a strangled noise of rage and clutched at her hair. "No!" she shrieked, spinning away from him to glare furiously at nothing. "No! I refuse! The light is not a… It's not used for petty play! This is not happening! I reject this reality!"

Lazar watched her with a bemused expression, his grin softening slightly. She was flailing now, but there was something behind her anger - something raw and fragile. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, deciding to let her vent for the moment.

She rounded on him suddenly, her voice rising again. "You don't get it! I had to study for hours. I had to rewrite prayers until my hands bled. I had to fast until I passed out!" Her hands balled into fists, trembling at her sides. "And you - some random troll - walk out of a cave and just… Poof! You're wielding the Light like it's nothing!" She gestured wildly at him, as if his very existence was offensive. "The world is broken! It's stopped making sense!"

"Fair 'nough, girl," Lazar said, ruffling her hair with a broad hand. She squawked in protest, swatting at him weakly. For a moment, he thought she might finally be calming down.

He actually felt bad for a second for upending her world view.

Then she punched him in the groin.

He should have really seen that coming.

"Loa-damned brat!" Lazar growled, not really hurt but still not enjoying the action. His violet eyes gleamed with irritation and without a word, he punted her into a nearby puddle of mud, watching her land with a wet splat. There, we're even!

The girl sat up slowly, dripping with muck. She spat out a glob of mud and glared at him with all the fury her tiny frame could muster. "You filthy -"

"Actions, dey have consequences, girl," Lazar interrupted. "'Sides, dat mud bath worth gold in Silvermoon, pure Loa-damned Eversong mud dis. Be grateful, yah, mon?"

He probably wasn't even kidding. He could definitely see the highborn having some fancy ass spas within their little jewel of a city. When you're a society of mana nutjobs, being lazy and pampered around the clock was probably a high priority.

He eyed the murder puppy thoughtfully as she rose up from the mud, should he lightforge a dagger for her? Just as a safety measure to give her a small chance for the future? It could give her a small advantage once Lordaeron descended into hell.

As she threw herself at him with a roar, flinging mud everywhere, he decided he'd wait with doing that until she couldn't stab him with one. A punch to the groin was one thing - a lightforged dagger might actually hurt.

She tackled his legs. He stumbled slightly but didn't fall, laughing as he caught her by the scruff of her shirt and hoisted her into the air, mud dripping off her.

"Ya not be good enough for dat yet, girl," He said, his grin returning as he considered something briefly. Then, with an amused shrug, he tossed her back into the mud. She landed with a loud splash, sputtering and seething.

"You're insufferable and will die by my hand, savage!" She yelled, slamming her fists into the muck. Lazar couldn't stop laughing as her action only succeeded in splashing her face with more mud. The disgusted look on her face as she got some in her mouth made his entire week.

"Come on, brat," Lazar said, turning back to the path ahead. "We got ground t' cover, yah? Forest ain't gunna walk itself, mon."

Saying that, he peered suspiciously at the forest around him, because with treants a thing - the forest literally could walk itself.

The girl dragged herself out of the mud with a muttered curse, stomping after him. Lazar's grin widened as he adjusted the Silver Hand on his back.

Nothing could ruin his mood, his power was just too awesome.

Everything was great!

＊＊＊

Four days of careful travel went by. Four days instead of one or two - mostly because Lazar had started to take it a lot more carefully the closer they got - it wasn't out of the question for the caravan master to have ensured an adventurer party went troll hunting along the route when he returned sans guards.

Although from what he could see, it was unlikely these people took security anywhere near seriously enough to go that far.

He'd brought them to within a few hundred metres of the gatehouse - a squat, weathered structure that spanned the pass between the Eastern Kingdoms' Lordaeron and the woods of eternal spring of Eversong Forest. Its defenses were decent enough at a glance, with sturdy stone walls and iron-bound gates, but to Lazar's eyes, it was painfully clear the place had seen better days. Vines crept along the crumbling masonry, and the archers' slits in the wall were in some cases blocked by the growing weeds and vines.

The garrison was slacking.

From their position concealed in the treeline, he could see the gatehouse's two posted guards sitting at a rickety wooden table just outside the gates. They weren't on alert. Instead, they leaned back lazily, playing dice and nursing what looked to be mugs of ale. Their weapons - a spear and a two handed sword - were tossed haphazardly aside at their feet.

"Lordaeron be gettin' lazy," Lazar muttered to himself, shaking his head. He turned to the girl crouched next to him, a frown tugging at his lips. "Dere ya go, girl. Back ta da humans wit' ya."

The girl glared up at him, her chilly blue eyes narrowed with some conflicting emotions. She didn't move. Instead, she shifted on her heels, her gaze darting toward the gatehouse and then back to Lazar. Her mouth opened slightly as if she wanted to say something, but she hesitated.

After a moment of silence, she crossed her arms and huffed. "I want my magic books."

Lazar sighed, the sound more amused than annoyed. "Fine, fine. Ya got lucky I got no use fer 'em yet, mon." He slung his satchel around and dug out the books, passing them to her. "Here, girl. Go become dis terrifyin' mage or somethin'. Jus' do dis bruddah a favor, mon. No roastin' mah balls if ya see me again, eh?"

The girl's eyes lit up as she clutched the books to her chest, a small spark of glee momentarily breaking through her conflicted exterior. A fleeting smile crossed her face, but then it was replaced by something far more unsettling - a wicked grin. "Thanks for the idea," She chirped sweetly, and her expression promised future havoc.

Ah, such a murderpuppy. She'd fit right in with the horde. Too bad she was probably going to end up just another undead. Hopefully Sylvanas wouldn't get her hands on her in that case…

"Man, ya gonna be a scary lady, ain'tcha?" Lazar said, ruffling her hair one last time. Her response was a glare and a muttered curse under her breath as he nudged her forward toward the gatehouse.

She walked a few steps, then stopped again, glancing back at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she squared her shoulders, drew herself up as tall as she could manage, and marched resolutely down the dirt road. Her countenance was one of someone forcing herself to not look back.

Lazar felt a little bit touched that she seemed to have liked him enough between all the murder attempts to be conflicted about leaving his side. He'd privately admit he was going to miss having someone to talk to. And she wasn't all that bad either… He was definitely somewhat conflicted about letting her go into the deathtrap that was Lordaeron.

But she was smart enough, he wasn't going to force the choice on her. If she didn't want to go, she could say so at any time.

He followed along the treeline, sticking to the shadows. He wasn't about to let her get into trouble - not after everything. He wanted to make sure she got through okay at least. He was easily able to follow her the entire way, a feeling of offense rising up in him. What kind of gatehouse or fort allowed a treeline this close? That was fort-building 101! He was practically right up against it!

He might not be human anymore, but he'd played alliance Loa-damn it! He had some pride in humanity, and it really annoyed him to see such laxity in a polity about to face all kinds of hell.

The girl reached the near vicinity of the guards. The pair of men looked up from their game, their expressions ranging from mild annoyance to something far less innocent as their gazes raked over her. Lazar's sharp ears caught their words easily as he hung around the treeline just a few dozen meters away.

"Well, if it ain't the little miss who got eaten by a troll," The shorter guard said with a sneer. His large nose, easily the most prominent feature on his face, twitched as he spoke. "Whaddya know? Still alive, mighty suspicious that, I'd say."

Lazar admitted begrudgingly that he wasn't entirely wrong. If the troll wasn't him… It would smell like some sort of trap or plot.

He wouldn't put it past the Amani to keep a victim alive, put some voodoo on them that basically made them a living bomb and set them loose to return home. Probably only the fact most Amani had the long term planning of a gnat that prevented such things.

The other guard, tall and gangly with a thin face, grinned unpleasantly. "Aye, it seems to be her. Ol' caravan master reported her dead, but she don't look too dead to me."

The girl tilted her head back imperiously, glaring at them. "Like some troll could defeat me!" She said, her tone dripping with disdain, her nose high in the air.

Lazar couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. At least she was consistent - her bratty attitude extended to everyone.

Cute.

"Well, we're glad you're alive, little miss," the tall guard said, his grin widening into something grotesque. "Ain't we?" He asked his companion.

The shorter guard with the large nose chuckled, his laughter oily and unpleasant. "Aye. Why don't ya come inside with us, girl? We'll make sure you're… Safe."

Lazar's spine stiffened, his sharp teeth grinding together. There was something in their tone - something vile. They better not be saying what he thought they were saying…

The girl took a step back, her bravado faltering for the first time. "I'd rather move along. I have a lot of ground to cover," She said, her voice uncertain.

The thin guard reached out and grabbed her arm, his grip firm. "Now, now, girl," He said, his voice low and menacing. "If you're nice about it, we won't have to break ya."

The other guard laughed again. "Not that it matters. She's reported dead anyway. No one'll care, we can just dump her in the woods after."

Lazar had heard enough. Hot burning hatred flowed through his veins. The look of fear on the girl's face… The utterly ballsy girl who'd argue and beat on a fucking forest troll... It sat ill with him.

He didn't hesitate. He drew his bow, notched an arrow, and let it fly in one smooth motion. The projectile struck the thin guard in the arm that was holding the girl, forcing him to release her with a howl of pain.

The girl didn't waste the opportunity. She drew her dagger from her belt and stabbed the man in the groin. His high-pitched screams were music to Lazar's ears. Even as he felt bad for any future paramour of hers - the girl was brutal and always seemed to go for the crotch.

The screams were cut off as she sliced his throat to prevent the noise from drawing other guards, before stabberific barbie went back to stabbing the guard in the groin over and over again with vicious glee.

The other guard would have probably killed her while she was so busy - he'd have to talk to her about battle awareness - but he was a little busy running for a horn that hung on a hook by the gatehouse walls.

The horn was obviously meant to call the rest of the garrison, who by the looks of these two, were probably lazing away somewhere inside. Useless, the lot of them.

His reason for running for the horn instead of extracting revenge on the girl?

Perhaps it was the mad forest troll that had run out of the treeline howling as he went after him with extreme prejudice.

Lazar reached the man just as his fingers brushed the horn, and despite his wish to make this a long drawn out affair. He knew he couldn't afford to actually have the garrison come running out - so he crushed the man's head like a melon with one smash of his mace, and then ran back to the girl.

Who was still furiously stabbing the first guard, her face twisted in a mix of fear and fury, the man long dead, and probably thanking the light he died quickly.

"Quick answer, girl," Lazar said, crouching next to her. "Wit' me, or ya runnin' through dat gate?"

The girl looked up at him, her hands trembling as blood dripped from the dagger. Her eyes flicked to the gatehouse briefly before settling back on him. "Fine, I'll stay." She said, her voice wavering. "But I'm in charge. You're just a savage. You need someone refined to make decisions."

Lazar raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting to the blood-soaked dagger still clutched in her hand after a hundred stabs through a fuckers dick. "Refined... Sure, mon." Without waiting for an argument, he scooped her up like a sack of flour and slung her over his shoulder.

"Hey! I can walk!" She protested, squirming in his grip.

"Not waitin' fer someone t' poke dere head out," Lazar replied, jogging toward the treeline.

As they moved, a disgusted sound soon came from the girl.

"What now, mon?" Lazar asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Worthless, cheap guards. He only had ten copper in his pouch," She complained, dropping the empty pouch to the ground with disdain.

Lazar chuckled, shaking his head. "Refined, yah? Sure ya are, brat." All that, and she also stole the man's wallet while at it - her family must have been something for sure…

A soft, mumbled "Thank you" came from over his shoulder a few minutes later.

Lazar grinned, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, having her around wasn't so bad after all.

He'd never had kids…

Maybe raising one wouldn't be so bad?

He'd just have to set some boundaries. Like… only one murder a day?

He thought about it, pursing his lips as he carried her through the forest.

Nah, one be too few, mon…

＊＊＊

The girl's silence weighed heavily on Lazar as he moved swiftly through the dense forest, covering ground as fast as possible while attempting to mask their trail. He didn't stop for eight straight hours, his long legs carrying them over uneven terrain, through streams, and past tangled thickets. Over his shoulder, the girl remained still, clutching her books as if they were the only stable thing in her life.

Which they probably were at this point, considering recent events.

Her quietness made him somewhat worried she was in shock or something. He wasn't sure why she'd chosen to come with him either, and the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. A noble-born girl - a fact she didn't exactly hide - had no place trekking through the wilderness with a troll. No warm bed, no servants, no safety. It only told him one thing - wherever she'd come from had been worse.

She'd joined that caravan for a reason, he suspected, and now was adrift and simply clinging onto the only thing that seemed a sure bet. No matter how insane that choice was.

For the moment, he didn't pry. Her choice to stay was her own, the brat was tougher than most kids her age, she'd be fine. He certainly wouldn't have handled any of this shit as a twelve year old back in his world.

His thoughts wandered to her propensity for daggers as he leapt over a fallen log, a plan forming. He'd lightforge them all, give her a bit of oomph. He'd only given her the one to take with her south, right before they'd arrived at the gatehouse, now he'd do the rest. Although idly he wondered if he could lightforge the girl herself, just like the army of light the Naruu had created.

To his shock, almost making him stumble into a tree, his power perked up at his thought. His mind was reeling, his gut twisting in disbelief. It had been idle speculation, something he hadn't meant seriously. But his power… It responded.

He could lightforge people... Like a fucking Naruu... That was... Insane.

Even now, he could feel the light stirring faintly, eager to act on his whim. But it had stopped short, like hitting a barrier he couldn't breach. The sensation left him breathless. He wasn't ready to even think about that yet. Lightforging people? Making warriors imbued with radiant power? That was a line he couldn't afford to cross.

At least not now.

It was obviously not something he was close to, the gap felt very large from what he'd felt when his power had attempted to assist him - and he'd have to be careful with that if the light could literally just jump off on an idle thought of his...

Lightforging people….

He shook the thought away, focusing on the girl's grumbling as she shifted on his shoulder. The Lightforging could wait. It wasn't like he was about to broadcast his abilities to every undead-loving creep in Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas. Arthas, Kel'Thuzad, that elf traitor fucker who's name he couldn't remember - and all the Dreadlords - were going to be enough trouble without painting a target on his back.

If he started lightforging people, Archimonde himself might decide to make a pit stop on his way to Kalimdor to stomp it out. Not an option he relished.

So that was off the table until at least Archimonde's defeat, perhaps even longer.

After miles of hard travel, Lazar finally stopped by a stream. The gentle burble of water was calming, a brief respite from the tension of the run. He crouched low, easing the girl off his shoulder and onto the ground.

"Go drink, girl," He said, gesturing toward the stream, she hadn't had anything for eight hours, and she'd had a stressful day. Even the threat of what those men laid out was enough no doubt to shock the girl. Any girl. Or guy for that matter.

She hesitated for a moment, clutching her books protectively as if she thought he might snatch them away. With a suspicious glare, she placed them carefully on a nearby rock before trudging to the stream's edge. Lazar smirked, digging into his satchel for some dried meat for her. She was going to need more meat on her bones if she wanted to survive this wild life. He made sure to not even go near her books, since she placed such importance on them.

They set up camp quietly afterwards, the girl moving as if on autopilot. She'd fallen into a routine after their time of traveling together, building the fire and setting up sleeping spots with minimal fuss. He watched her, gnawing idly on a strip of meat, already done his own tasks.

"A silver fer ya thoughts?" He said at last, breaking the silence.

She sniffed, still poking at the fire with a stick. "I'm worth at least a gold per thought," She shot back, not looking at him.

Lazar chuckled, his tusks gleaming in the firelight. "At least ya gumption ain't faltered, considerin' tings, girl." He was glad she showed some fire again.

Her expression twisted, irritation flashing across her face. "I'm not weak!" She snapped, spinning to glare at him.

He raised an eyebrow, fingering his tusks thoughtfully. "Neva said ya were, mon. If anyting, ya scary strong an' put t'gether fer ya age."

The compliment didn't seem to help. She scowled, her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned away. Lazar scratched his head, unsure of what to say next. She was clearly in a state, wrestling with her choice to stick with him.

The silence stretched on until he blurted, "Can ya teach me ta read Common?"

The girl blinked, visibly startled. For a moment, she stared at him, then her expression shifted entirely. A sly grin spread across her face, and her chilly eyes lit up with wicked glee.

"Hohoho!" She laughed dramatically, placing her hands on her hips. "The savage can't read, huh? I suppose, with my superior intellect, I can lower myself to helping you."

The smugness was palpable, but Lazar didn't mind. It was worth it to see her perk up. "Aye, I'd 'preciate it, mon." He said with a grin, watching as her self-satisfied expression faltered. She gave him a suspicious look, clearly annoyed he wasn't rising to her bait.

"Fine," She huffed, dragging one of her books closer. "We'll start with the basics. Don't drool on the pages."

Lazar smirked, settling in across from her. "Ya da teacher, den. Hope ya ready fer da challenge, girl."

The girl rolled her eyes but opened the book with an air of authority. "This," She said, pointing to one of the letters on the page, going extremely basic, "Is A. It makes the Aa sound. Repeat after me - Aa."

Lazar grinned, leaning closer. "Ahhh," He said, drawing out the sound exaggeratedly.

The girl groaned, her face falling into her hands. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Nah, girl," Lazar said, his grin widening. "Gonna be fun." Once he stopped messing with her anyways. It might not be English, but it had some similarities at least, that with a teacher helping him, should have him pick it up fairly quickly.

They'd have to remove her magic bauble for when he would practice speaking common though - as he couldn't do it without its magic aid off and no longer aiding their speech, but this was a start - and would take the girls mind off things.

The lesson continued late into the night, the girl's haughty explanations and exaggerated exasperation filling the camp with laughter and a surprising warmth. As they worked, Lazar couldn't help but feel a small flicker of relief.

For all their bickering and banter and murder attempts, this strange partnership of theirs wasn't so bad. Maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what both of them needed.

Every Troll needed a murderpuppy.

Way better than a pet bear or flying snake or something lame.

And every little girl needed a murderbeast to point at things that annoyed them. Right?

＊＊＊

A week later, Eversong Forest.

The forest glade they'd taken over was peaceful, the kind of serene quiet that came only with the absence of nearby predators - surprise! - they'd killed all of those. A small campfire crackled cheerfully in the center of the clearing, as they sat nearby. Lazar sat cross-legged on a patch of flattened grass, a pile of papers spread out in front of him. His tusks twitched in concentration, and his violet eyes squinted as he tried to decipher the unfamiliar script on the pages.

They'd found the papers three days ago on the corpse of a high elf. The elf had been sprawled beneath a massive tree, his fine robes pristine except for the dirt smudges where he'd collapsed. No marks, no signs of struggle. Whatever had killed him, it wasn't something that left visible traces, and it wasn't the Amani behind it. The body was too intact, untouched by the usual savagery. Some Amani trolls got really creative when it came to the elves - corpses included.

It bothered Lazar more than he wanted to admit - because it might mean something fucky was going on. People usually didn't fall over dead with no signs of the reason, not the highborn at any rate.

The girl sat across from him, cross-legged as well, her small frame hunched over one of her books. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy braid, and her icy blue eyes gleamed with determination as she mumbled indistinctly under her breath. One hand was raised in front of her, fingers twitching as if grasping for something invisible.

The firelight reflected in her eyes as she whispered faster, her focus intensifying. Lazar glanced up briefly, noting the furrow in her brow and the tight set of her lips.

"Don't hurt yaself now, girl, can smell ya brain going wonky from here." He muttered, returning to his own task, annoyance filling him at trying to decipher the language. The girl knew a little Thalassian - why she'd been allowed in that trade caravan so easily. He was attempting to pick up a little as well by reading the papers the elf had carried, the girl having taught him what little she knew.

Lazar rubbed his temples, frustrated by the elegant, flowing script on the pages. His eyes skimmed over the words, trying to piece them together, sounding them out in his head.

"Thre..." He muttered. "Thre'... Does dat say Threat?"

His attention was abruptly drawn away by a sudden surge of heat. A fireball the size of a melon erupted from the girl's hand with a loud whoosh, streaking across the clearing and smacking into a nearby tree. Lazar bolted upright, his mace instinctively in his hands before he realized the fireball fizzled out weakly against the bark, leaving only a faint scorch mark.

At least she wasn't attacking him anymore. That would have probably smarted a bit more than her punches…

The girl stared at her hand in shock for a moment before breaking into a grin. She jumped to her feet, bouncing up and down as she laughed, her excitement contagious as he shook his head with a wry grin.

"I did it! Did you see that?" She cried, spinning in place with her arms outstretched. "I made a fireball! I'm amazing!"

Lazar leaned his mace back against the ground, shaking his head in amusement. "Aye, girl. Ya made a li'l spark, yah? But ya sure ya don't wanna be a rogue instead, mon? Ya already halfway dere."

Her grin vanished, replaced by a look of pure indignation. "Never! I'll never be a rogue! Rogues are filthy cowards and brigands!"

Lazar raised an eyebrow, scratching at his tusks. "Cowards, mon? An' yet dey be useful. Sneakin', stabbin', gettin' da job done 'fore anyone even knows dey dere. Mages? Squishy. Get close an' ya toast."

The girl crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Mages can throw fireballs. Fireballs, Lazar! How cool is that? I can literally set people on fire!" She bounced in place with a disturbing gleam in her eyes, "The solution to any problem is more fire!" She exclaimed, daring him to disagree. Her expression turned disturbingly gleeful as she said it, her eyes lighting up with a dangerous enthusiasm that had Lazar leaning back slightly.

He huffed out a breath, watching her with a mix of amusement and concern. "Kid," He said, his tone dry, "Ya like da flashy tings too much, mon. All spark, no substance. An' dat look in ya eyes? Scary, mon. Real scary."

This partnership only needed one flashy fucker. Him. Mostly because that meant people wanting to kill them would be stabbing the guy who could regenerate instead of the girl with squishy bits.

She ignored him, holding up her hand again. "Such power," She muttered to herself, her voice trembling with excitement. "I'll have all the power! They'll never catch me!"

Before Lazar could say anything else, she started throwing fireballs in every direction, her laughter echoing through the clearing. One after another, the small flaming orbs streaked out, hitting trees, bushes, and even the campfire itself.

"Oi!" Lazar barked, standing there in deadpan irritation as he watched the forest glade catch fire. Small patches of flame licked at the underbrush, the beginnings of a very real problem.

The girl didn't stop, her laughter growing louder as she raised both hands, flames bursting forth in wild arcs. "Ultimate power!" She shouted, her voice giddy.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, she collapsed. Her face met the dirt with an audible thud, her body going limp. "Ultimate power?" She squeaked out confusedly, somewhat muffled by the fact her lips were kissing the dirt.

Lazar froze for a moment, the firelight dancing around them, then sighed deeply. He glanced at the spreading flames, already licking at the lower branches of the surrounding trees, and began packing up their camp with practiced efficiency.

Not his trees, not his land, but unfortunately his idiot.

By the time he finished, he found himself standing over the girl, her small form sprawled in the dirt. Her cheeks were bright red, her breath coming in short, embarrassed huffs. She didn't look up as he crouched beside her, poking her shoulder with one large finger.

"Ultimate power, huh?" He said, his tone unimpressed. "Dis very impressive."

Her groan was muffled by the dirt.

"I'm never lettin' ya forget dis, girl. Not ever."

She let out a frustrated whine but didn't respond, her exhaustion clear. She'd obviously blown all her mana and probably gone a bit over what was healthy.

He wasn't a mage so he could only guess.

Lazar shook his head, glancing at the burning glade around them. The kid was reckless, dangerous, and entirely too enthusiastic about destruction - but she was a fun one.

And that was something.

"Alright, murderpuppy," He said, hefting her over his shoulder with ease. "Time ta move. Can't be leavin' a trail o' burnin' trees fer da humans t' follow, yah?"

Not to mention if any elves were around - they tended to be really upset with little things like forest fires.

Her grumbled response was unintelligible, but Lazar's grin only widened as he carried her deeper into the forest, the flames behind them not growing too dangerously.

It would probably be fine.

＊＊＊

A few days later, they found themselves arriving at a small lake, Lazar having taken them slightly northwest, away from the border of Lordaeron. He was a bit farther north then he liked, but they were still far enough away from the elves - as evident as he crouched on a tree branch, his shoulder loli sitting on his shoulder, spotting the Murloc village at the edges of the lake.

If the elves were actually paying attention this deep south, they'd have cleared the pests out. It really was no wonder they always ended up turtling behind Silvermoon's shield - they were shit at putting in the work to watch over their own domain.

The Murloc village was an opportunity though…

Lazar had killed plenty of wildlife during their travels, and the amount of Murlocs he could spot... He might actually reach the 250 benchmark in Light if he killed them all.

The wildlife didn't give nearly enough so he was still a bit away. Well… As long as the Murlocs didn't give too low of a point total per kill.

If they were equal to the kobolds it would be fine. And they were about the same level of weak yet annoying - so it should be fine. His shoulder loli was practically vibrating with excitement too.

Luckily he had almost orc-like broad shoulders instead of the usually more gangly troll kind, and the girl was tiny and light which helped - or the shoulder loli experience would have never happened.

Lazar crouched on a sturdy tree branch high above the ground, his sharp eyes scanning the scene below. Nestled along the edges of the water was the small Murloc village, its haphazardly constructed huts made of reeds, driftwood, and mud. The Murlocs themselves bustled about, their gurgling cries echoing faintly across the water.

Perched on his shoulder, the girl clung to his braid for balance, her icy blue eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Look at all of them," She whispered, her voice trembling with barely-contained glee. "Are we gonna kill them all?"

Lazar snorted, scratching his chin as he watched the scene below. There were at least two dozen Murlocs in sight, their numbers spilling from the huts and skittering along the water's edge. It wasn't a large settlement, but it was densely packed. The potential for chaos was definitely there - but manageable.

As long as he didn't discount some more popping out of the water at any time. But with the amount of huts and supplies on display there couldn't be too many hidden away.

"Aye," He murmured eventually, his tone thoughtful. "Jus' thinkin' how I wanna go 'bout it, mon."

The girl tugged on his braid, making him glance sideways at her. Her grin was all teeth and bloodlust, an expression that somehow managed to be both endearing and concerning.

It was easy for him to feel happy with murder when he literally felt himself grow more powerful for each one. Although killing might be a simpler term, since no government in Azeroth considered killing kobolds or murlocs as a crime. The girl didn't have that excuse, she was just like this.

"Just smash them!" She said, her tone exasperated. "It's not like they're hard to kill!"

Got a lot of experience with that? He wondered, skeptical, but his thoughts moved on quickly, because he had something else he was thinking about. "Dere's a method t' da madness, girl. Ain't just 'bout dem."

His gaze drifted back to the village. The Murlocs moved with their usual jerky, gangly motions, but they weren't armed for war. They carried crude fishing spears, nets, and baskets, their attention focused on their daily tasks. If there was a caster amongst them - it didn't show. Murlocs being rude enough to not easily display who to kill first by dressing them in robes.

He hadn't told the girl about his power. But now... He wondered if he should.

Not that they fully trusted one another, they had a weird partnership and kind of friendship brewing, with the girl still stabbing him on the odd occasions, but full trust was far off. She wasn't telling him her origins, and he sure as the damned Loa wasn't telling her his.

No, the reason he was pondering telling her was because he didn't want her to kill steal.

He wanted ALL the points.

He wondered if keeping her in the dark was worth the risk of losing kills. He needed all the points he could get.

Losing points just wasn't worth it, he decided, not bothering wasting time on too much thinking - it was a pretty clear cut choice.

"Girl," He said, his voice low, "If I give ya da bow, ya tink ya can go non-lethal? Jus' cripple 'em so I can finish da job?"

Her reaction was instant and visceral. She made a noise of disgust, yanking on his braid hard enough to make him wince. "No fireballs? And no murder? What's the point, then? I didn't join up with a troll to go respectable!"

Lazar snorted, suppressing a grin. "Fireballs still a no-go, brat. We ain't got enough of da forest left after yer last show, mon." He teased.

Her scowl deepened, and she crossed her arms. "It's a lake right there. Water doesn't burn!" She whined, her voice taking on the distinct tone of a sulking child.

"Dis troll not takin' da risk, mon! If anyone got da mojo ta make a lake burn, you be it," He said dryly.

The girl perked up at that, her lips curling into a smug grin. "Of course. Glad you recognize my capabilities." She preened so hard she almost fell off his shoulder, having to grab on to his head, a small flush to her cheeks as he glanced back up at her.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, da real reason ya can't kill 'em… I get more powerful wit' each kill, mon. Need ya t' leave 'em, so I get da points an' da power."

She froze for a moment, her grin fading as she mulled over his words. Then she sighed dramatically. "Is this one of your Loa things you keep muttering about?" She said, her tone tinged with jealousy. "Unfair! Power through murder. That's like the best power ever. I never get nice things."

"Sure," Lazar said, shrugging. If she wanted to jump to that conclusion, he wasn't going to correct her. It worked for him.

The girl's eyes narrowed, her expression turning calculating. "Can I pray to a Loa? Maybe I'll get my own murder power?"

Lazar groaned inwardly, already regretting everything. "Nah. Only trolls, mon."

"I'm gonna do it," She declared, her tone defiant. "If I pray to all of them, then that should give me all the murder powers, right?"

Okay, so maybe it didn't work so well for him…

Loa, if you're listening… You damn well better not!

"Don't," He said firmly, before sighing and deciding to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand. "We gonna do dis or not? Ya good takin' a support role?"

She grumbled under her breath, clearly displeased, but eventually nodded. "Fine. But if this plan gets boring, I'm throwing a fireball."

"Noted, mon," He said dryly, handing her his bow and quiver.

She fiddled with the bow, her mood visibly lifting as she held a weapon in her hands. Lazar eyed the distance to the village and frowned. The trees here wouldn't give her a good vantage point, and the village itself was far enough away that her aim might suffer.

An idea struck him, and he closed his eyes, reaching for the Light. The warmth of it surged through him, eager to obey. With a thought, he directed it to anchor the girl to his shoulder, forming a gentle but unyielding connection.

The girl gasped as she felt the Light wrap around her. She shifted experimentally, finding herself securely stuck in place but still able to move her arms freely.

"...Oh... Yeah..." Her voice took on an almost purring quality as she felt herself stick and realized he'd be taking her into battle on his shoulder.

"Remembah! No killin' any of dem." He told her, the Silver hand feeling eager in his hands as he drew it. Even as he had to tamp down its light as the mace itself seemed to want to shine brightly.

Damn weapon, wait until we're smashing to give us away, he thought, a grin on his lips.

Their stealth died anyways as the girl roared out, "CHARGE!"

Lazar obliged.

＊＊＊

The charge was pure chaos.

Lazar barreled down the incline, his long legs eating up the ground as his war cry echoed across the beach. The girl whooped with joy, tightly attached to his shoulder, loosing an arrow wildly. The first shot flew wide, missing the Murlocs entirely and embedding itself in a reed hut.

"Adjust ya aim, girl!" Lazar barked, laughing as he smashed through a cluster of underbrush, a wet gargle sounding out as a confused Murloc that had apparently been napping, hidden underneath, got stomped, its throat crushed.

"I'm trying! Stop shaking me so much you brute!" The girl snapped back, her voice a mix of frustration and pure excitement. She steadied herself on his shoulder, and this time, she waited, taking proper aim, the bowstring taut in her small hands.

The second arrow found its mark, striking a Murloc in the leg. The creature let out a garbled screech as it toppled sideways into the mud.

"Better, girl!" Lazar hollered, grinning as they closed the distance to the Murloc village. The Silver Hand was in his hands and he was itching to get some points. Heh, he was starting to sound like a Trandoshan. Wrong universe but not too off base.

By the time they hit the edge of the settlement, Lazar was fully ready to get in the mix, the girl crippling another Murloc for him that he simply stomped over in his charge, his foot crushing its ribcage with a wet squelch as he went past it. He swung his massive mace in a wide arc, the gleaming weapon glowing faintly as the Light reinforced his strikes. Four chittering Murlocs were caught in the sweep as a group, their frail bodies crumpling like twigs as bones snapped and organs pulped. The force of the blow sent them flying into a pile of wooden crates, which shattered on impact.

"Dat be how ya do it!" Lazar crowed, already turning to face the next group, taking a spear to the gut which barely managed to scratch his tough hide, before he used the shaft of his mace to brutally slam the Murlocs forehead in, piercing its brain.

From her perch, the girl had a clear view of the chaos below her. She grinned wickedly, loosing arrow after arrow. The first few missed again as she adjusted to Lazar's bounding movements, but soon her shots found their rhythm. Arrows buried themselves in legs and knees, hobbling the creatures and sending them tumbling into the mud.

"Gotcha!" She yelled triumphantly as another Murloc went down, its stubby arms flailing as it tried to drag itself toward the water.

Lazar usually simply stomped over the crippled ones, either crushing them underfoot or drowning them in the mud as he forced them under with his weight.

More Murlocs began to pour out of the huts and surrounding reeds, their guttural war cries filling the air. Some came from the water itself, their slimy bodies glistening as they emerged, armed with crude spears and nets. Lazar counted at least half a dozen from the lake alone.

"More on da way, girl!" He warned, even as he grinned and slammed his mace down on top of another Murloc, pasting its head as he followed through all the way, pancaking the tiny creature as he grinned darkly at its compatriots, blood flecking his tusks.

"Good! More practice!" The girl retorted, her voice alight with bloodthirsty glee.

The first wave of lake Murlocs hurled their spears with surprising coordination at that point, the projectiles arcing through the air toward the troll and his tiny companion. Lazar's grin widened as he reached for the Light. It surged through him eagerly, wrapping them both in a shimmering bubble of golden energy. A full shield covering them from all angles.

He could have dodged, but he just wanted them to see how utterly inconsequential they were against him.

The spears clattered harmlessly against the shield, bouncing off with dull thuds, slightly smoldering. The girl whooped in delight, leaning forward on Lazar's shoulder to get a better angle for her shots. She picked off the advancing Murlocs one by one, each arrow finding a leg or a groin, (really girl?) leaving them writhing in the mud.

"Keep at it, girl!" Lazar called out. The Light shield allowed him to move freely instead of remaining constrained, the bubble simply following him. He closed the distance to the nearest Murloc, his massive mace swinging downward with devastating force. The creature's head caved in with a wet crunch, and he caught another as it attempted to get past him to stab him with its spear, sweeping his mace aside to crush its ribs as it wailed at him.

By then the shield ended, but it didn't matter. Using the Light here was simply overkill as it was. These weapons they had weren't enough to pierce him fully, not after his body had leveled up. He'd imagine if he leveled body up high enough, only legendary weapons could do harm - something to ponder once he leveled Light up high enough.

More Murlocs swarmed in, chittering and screeching as they tried to overwhelm him. Lazar spun his mace in a wide arc, using its sheer mass to keep them at bay. The girl's arrows continued to rain down, her accuracy improving with every shot. Although she'd be running out any second with how eager of a shot she was…

The duo worked in tandem, a whirlwind of destruction and precision. Lazar's mace struck with bone-shattering power, while the girl's arrows ensured the enemies were hobbled and easy prey. The ground around them became a battlefield of writhing, gurgling Murlocs, their greenish blood staining the mud.

One particularly bold Murloc leapt at Lazar, brandishing a rusted sword. He caught it mid-air with a backhanded swing of his mace, sending the creature into a nearby hut, its chest concaved in. The flimsy structure collapsed under the impact, burying the Murloc beneath a pile of reeds and splinters.

Another Murloc tried a jump, showing that the things didn't pick up on clues very quickly. Lazar spun around and used his mace like a baseball bat, slamming into the midsection of the Murloc, before it went flying across the lake, blood trailing the figure before it went out of sight, a splash heard moments later.

"Dat one learned ta fly, yah?" Lazar joked, earning a snort from the girl.

"You're ridiculous!" She giggled back, her tone showcasing her amusement. "7 out of 10, not enough distance!"

Tch, everyone's a critic.

The fight, if it could be called that, continued, each Murloc that appeared meeting the same fate. Lazar's swings were methodical, each one aimed to maximize damage in as efficient a way possible. The girl, meanwhile, had run out of arrows, and was now simply yelling insults at the dying Murlocs.

She was creative, he'd give her that. If the Murlocs were not busy dying in agony, they'd be absolutely burned by her words.

Then, just as the battle was all but won, a sneaky Murloc emerged from the shadows behind them. It moved with uncharacteristic stealth for its kind. Before Lazar could react, the creature darted in and slashed at the back of his leg, severing his hamstring, the blade of superior quality compared to the rest, and able to cut through his thick hide.

A growl of pain escaped Lazar's lips as he staggered, his massive frame nearly toppling. The girl screamed his name, her voice high-pitched with alarm. "Lazar!" She cried out, grasping his head.

"Dis be nothin' 'm fine, girl," He grunted, he didn't even need the light, his own regeneration already working on it. He could feel the torn muscle knitting itself back together, though the process left a dull ache. He reached down, his massive hand closing around the squirming Murloc that was still stabbing frantically at his legs.

A rogue Murloc… His eyes flickered to the high quality blade it wielded. Now that was odd…

"Ya an ugly fucker, ain'tcha, mon?" Lazar said, lifting the creature into the air by its head.

There were no other Murlocs alive as far as he could tell, no movements he could see, so he had time.

The girl, already over her earlier brief panic, snorted in amusement. "Look who's talking," She quipped, her fear melting into relief.

Lazar scowled, his tusks twitching. "Hey, fer a troll, 'm a great catch, mon!" He shot back, his tone offended.

At least he thought so, he had big tusks, and he had more muscles now then the average troll… That was hot, right?

"Sure, you're a real heartbreaker." The girl said with a wicked grin. "That's why you're alone in the woods with someone not your species and bullying Murlocs..."

The burn was severe. Lazar stared at her for a moment, his jaw dropping slightly before he shook his head in disbelief. "Ya breakin' mah heart, girl," He said dramatically, before crushing the Murlocs head in his hand. The creature went limp, its body dropping to the ground with a wet thud.

The battle was over. The village lay in ruins, the Murlocs all dead. Lazar straightened, rolling his shoulders as he surveyed the carnage.

He twitched a little in annoyance as he checked his system. One point away from 250 Light! One point! Fucking cock tease Murlocs!

"Ooh, this one's alive still!" The girl said, sadistic glee in her voice as she pointed at a Murloc with an arrow in its groin trying to crawl to the water.

Lazar practically flew over there as he smashed his mace down.

250 Light.

He shivered as he could feel a strengthened connection to the Light. Just like how his body had grown stronger when he'd hit 250, irregardless of his other reward.

Two choices were laid out before him.

Beating Heart of a Champion

Your heart beats with the thrum of Light. One time, and one time only, upon death, the Light immediately restores you in perfect health, the boon ending in that moment.

This… It was pure bullshit. He'd have to wait until he reached 500 in any skill to see if these were just the beginner set to help a brother out at the start. Because if these things scaled higher? How Loa damned high would they go at 10 000?

It would be really hard to not pick this. One instant do over. Death rewound. And most importantly… In perfect health. So he'd be back in tip top shape even if he died to an old god tentacle fucking his skull.

A Champion's Love Affair with Lady Luck.

Transform a tenth of your power in the Light permanently into a hidden reserve inaccessible to you until the time is upon you, and get a permanent boon from Lady Luck in return. Forevermore, when your Light begins to wane, your will weakening, your luck exponentially increases in return.

… Now he was conflicted. Insta not dead - or luck powers that make sure he doesn't die in the first place?

This one was permanent too, unlike the first one.

Fuck…

If he was understanding this correctly, when he was using up his Light, weakening, that tenth of his power he'd locked away would return with a vengeance as a luck based power, turning things around…

A tenth though… Right now. That was nothing. Five years from now…

This was not as easy a choice as the Silver Hand was.

"I'm going to stab you in the dick if you keep ignoring me!" The girl said right in his ear, and he was drawn away from his thoughts.

He'd choose later… He'd have to think about it.

He plopped her off his shoulder, dumping her on her ass in the mud, as she glared at him.

"Go grab all dem arrows, girl. Den we be settin' up camp, eatin', an' cleanin' up, yah?"

"Fiiiine." She grumbled, setting off, taking some glee in stepping on the corpses around them as she hunted down all the arrows she'd used.

Was he making her worse? Or was she always like this? He wondered.

＊＊＊

The campfire crackled softly as Lazar leaned back against a tree trunk, the comforting warmth of the flames warding off the creeping chill of the evening. Just a few hundred feet away, the ruined Murloc village still smoldered faintly, its once-busy occupants now reduced to nothing but memories - and dinner.

The girl stood by the lake's edge, her tiny figure outlined by the fading light. She glared at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm taking a bath," She said firmly, as if daring him to argue. "I'm not a savage, like you…"

"Ain't stoppin' ya," Lazar replied, his voice mild. He laughed inwardly, amused but careful to keep it hidden. She was as savage as they came. Far more savage than him in many ways.

"Don't you dare peek," She continued, wagging a finger at him. "I know what you're thinking, you beast, this hallowed vision is not for you!"

He just gave her a casual wave as he turned his attention back to the fire. He had no intention to peek, he held no such interest.

The girl stomped off toward the lake, muttering something about trolls and savages under her breath. Lazar shook his head and chuckled softly, his long fingers carefully rotating the Murloc impaled on its spear. It sizzled and popped over the fire, the smell faintly fishy but not entirely unpleasant.

Murlocs were kind of like fish, right? He wasn't sure if they were edible, but he figured he'd find out soon enough. He planned to try it first - no need for the girl to keel over if it turned out to be poisonous.

He could probably heal her just fine with the Light. Although he'd never hear the end of it if she died of food poisoning and he had to resurrect her.

Her distrust about him staying close was amusing. She seemed to think his insistence was lecherous, not understanding he was more concerned about her toes becoming a snack for some predator. Her fireballs wouldn't do much good if something dragged her underwater, after all. Luckily, his sharp ears would give him warning if anything in the lake decided to try its luck.

Eventually, the girl returned, her dark hair damp, a look of contentment on her features. She practically radiated smug satisfaction, having scrubbed off the grime of battle and travel.

"Much better," She said, plopping onto a rock near the fire. Her eyes caught sight of the roasting Murloc, and her expression shifted to curiosity. "Are we really going to eat... A Murloc?"

Lazar smirked. "Aye. Thought ya'd turn up ya nose, girl." He poked the Murloc with a clawed finger, checking to see if it was done. Still a bit raw in the middle, at least the skin was crisping up nicely.

Instead of the disgust he'd expected, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Turn up my nose? Are you kidding?" She leaned closer, practically salivating. "Not only did we crush them, we're eating them? This is amazing! I'm so badass!" She cackled gleefully, rubbing her hands together like a goblin counting a hoard of gold.

Lazar gave her a lingering look, raising an eyebrow - he'd better nip this in the bud right now. "Listen, girl, I ain't eatin' no elf or human. An' neither are you. We draw da line somewhere."

She pouted dramatically, her lower lip jutting out. "But what if elf tastes as good as they look?" She asked, her wide, innocent eyes batting up at him.

Innocent. Hah!

His expression turned flat. "Eat 'em da normal way, mon."

Shit, he'd have to learn a whole new way to do that, his tusks could impale an unlucky girl if he wasn't careful. Troll issues.

Her brows furrowed in confusion for a moment, then realization dawned. Her nose wrinkled, and she recoiled in horror and disgust. "Ew, no!"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Dat be ya line, huh? Dine on ya enemies, yum. Eat 'em out, yuck?"

"Gross," She muttered, crossing her arms. "Murder is cool, not… That other stuff."

Lazar decided to let the conversation die, focusing on the Murloc as he poked it again. "Keep an eye on dis, girl. No lettin' it burn, aye? I'm gunna wash."

The girl's nose wrinkled in distaste, and she waved him off. "Fine. But I want the eyes," She said, pointing at the roasting Murloc with a gleam in her eyes.

Lazar paused, looking at her sidelong. "...Sure. Knock yaself out, mon." Girl just got weirder every day…

He stood, unfastening his loincloth and tossing it over his shoulder. It wasn't exactly in pristine condition after all the fighting and traveling, and the smell wasn't improving. He'd have to scrub it out in the lake while he bathed.

"Hey!" The girl yelped, her hands clamped over her eyes. "Don't be a brute! Do that somewhere else! Don't hurt a maiden's eyes!"

Lazar glanced back at her, one eyebrow quirked. "Work better if ya don't have ya fingers splayed wide when ya hidin' ya face an' eyesight, girl." His tone was dry, but he couldn't hide the amused smirk as he noticed her sneaking peeks.

She spluttered, her cheeks turning red as she clenched her fingers tighter over her face. "Just go!" She shouted.

Chuckling to himself, Lazar jogged off toward the water, the girl's indignant muttering fading behind him. He hadn't thought much of it, really. Trolls weren't exactly shy about such things and a lot of his natural reactions and habits were more Troll than human.

He hadn't exactly hidden the calls of nature on their travels either, but he supposed she hadn't been paying much attention to that. He made a mental note to be more mindful. He had no interest in her that way, and he sure as hell didn't want her developing some kind of awkward crush.

Ever.

The cool water was a welcome relief as he waded in, the grime of the day washing away in lazy swirls. He scrubbed his skin with rough handfuls of sand, using it to scour the blood and sweat from his muscles. His loincloth got the same treatment, though he wasn't sure how much longer it would last before he'd need a replacement.

Armor, he thought. Gonna need some real armor soon.

The thought lingered as he finished up, wringing the loincloth out and slinging it over his shoulder. He'd have to rely on his natural toughness for now, but against proper enemies, he'd need more than just his hide.

Right before he returned to camp, he put the loincloth back on, even if it was still wet - no need to set off any more weird stuff.

When he returned to camp, the smell of the roasting Murloc filled the air. The girl was still perched on her rock, her eyes glued to the cooking creature like a hawk watching prey.

"Is it done yet?" She asked eagerly, bouncing slightly in place.

Lazar poked it again, nodding in satisfaction. "Close 'nough, girl. Ya ready ta eat da fruits o' war?"

She grinned wickedly, practically snatching the Murlocs eyes off the roasted corpse as soon as he handed it to her. "Victory never tasted so good," She said, biting into the things with obvious relish, Lazar wincing as they made a popping sound.

Lazar sat down across from her, tearing off a piece for himself. It wasn't half bad - fishy, but edible. He watched her as she devoured the Murloc with all the enthusiasm of someone with a belly twice her size, her small fingers digging into the charred meat, having finished the eyes.

"Ya somethin' else, girl," He muttered, shaking his head.

"And don't you forget it," She replied, flashing him a toothy grin before going back to her meal, juices running down her jaw.

She sure as hell didn't eat like a nobleborn.

"If dere be more like ya in Lordaeron, dat be one frightenin' land, mon." He said, shaking his head.

She frowned at him, "I'm not from Lordaeron." She said with some very clear distaste to her voice, "Why would you think that?"

"Not Lordaeron, den? Closest place, girl, can ya blame me? So, what ya be, eh? Gilnean?" He asked, eyeing her carefully, she was crazy enough to be one of those. Thankfully this was way before they all became furries.

She gave him a look of such disgust he almost thought her Murloc was going to be coming back up. "Gilnean? You make me sick! I'm not talking about this anymore, I'll die just from being compared to those rubes."

She tore off a strip of meat with her teeth, chewing on it while glaring at him, before pointing at him accusingly, "And why do you never use my name, huh! Savage, Beast, Gilnean lover!"

One of those things wasn't like the other, he thought wryly as he scratched his head, "Ya neva actually told me ya name, ya know dat, mon?"

She blushed, but kept up her glare, if anything it intensified. "I am a lady, it is up to you to ask!" She sniffed, before looking at him expectantly.

He laughed, "I be fine callin' ya girl or brat, mon." He couldn't let her get away with thinking she could dictate too much to him. He was humoring her most of the time - but he wasn't going to start taking orders from his tagalong.

"Jadzia! My name is Jadzia!" She bit out, frustrated, her tiny hands clenched into fists.

"Dat be a good, strong name, suits ya well, it do." He said after a moment's thought.

Her face transformed, all the anger and frustration melting away as she absolutely beamed at him, radiant at the very minor compliment.

"You can call me Lady Jadzia, you may bow now." She said regally, her attitude swiftly changing back to its primary brat setting.

He didn't feel that punting her in the lake was the wrong move.

Once she swam back,

She disagreed.

＊＊＊

Somewhere, sometime.

"Ah, how interestin'! De girl be wantin' ta pray ta de Loa, eh?"

A deep laugh rumbled, echoing through the space, a faint sound of beating drums in the background, a constant thrum of power heady in the air.

"Ha! If de lil' troll ain't showin' proper respect ta de Loa, ta me, maybe dere somethin' ta dis... branchin' out, mon…"

"She be a kindred spirit, I tink. Wonder now, what sorta sacrifices she might be offerin', hmm?"

All that could be seen in the darkness was a wide toothy grin.

"Dere be blood on da horizon, mon!"

＊＊＊

Author's Note:

The girl has a name. Although she didn't share her last name, nor her nationality.

Unfortunately for those wanting to guess, her hate of Gilneans really doesn't narrow it down at all.

She did not have a healthy home life, obviously.

Lazar is still somewhat taking all this like a game - he's in a regenerating troll body with the power of the Light - he'd have acted much differently as a regular human.

The time for fun and games though won't last forever…

Cheers