Broxigar began his proud strut towards the arena’s exit gates, but Tirian sparked a thought about the previous day. Rabid orcs attacking in groups seemed like a fanatic cult action and who better to ask than an orc chieftain. 

“Broxigar!”
Tirian called across the distance to the victor, catching the orc with a slight nod with is head. A slight breeze carried red strands of hair out of the warriors face as his eyes narrowed with a serious gaze burning in the reflecting light of the afternoon sun.

“I was curious about an event that occurred a few nights ago. I need some answers and you’re the only person that can give me that.”

Broxigar felt an eyebrow raise at the question, and the level of seriousness in the red-heads eyes. 

“I can spare some of the Earth Mother’s time. Meet me in the sanctuary.

Tirian nodded to the orc, noting the sudden change in tone and words that were being presented. Tirian walked away from the chieftain with a sense of security knowing there might be some simple answer to the madness of the ambush of the previous evening. Tirian exited the brightness of the outdoors and into a familiar face. The desert elf Elrithos spoke with a tone of wisdom and kindness as his compliments fell to the ears of the Durandal prince.

“Thanks, may luck be in your favor in the next match.”

The two parted ways shortly after so few words had been spoken and Tirian quickly shook his head at the thought of his skills being a ‘talent.’ The soldier sighed heavily as the tsunami of memories came crashing down onto his conscious. There was nothing he would not give to cleanse those horrors from the deepest parts of his soul. Thoughts of freedom from caution and fear long forgotten memories catching up seemed to be just a dream. Blue eyes looked up from the beaten dirt path with a glazed look over distanced thought just in time to see the opening to the ‘Sanctuary.’ Tirian approached the door with a feeling of dread deep in the pits of his stomach, how long had it been since that day.

Lucille sat in a tavern of sorts, eyeing the room with that smug look on her face. Icy eyes wandered around the room, judging each and every patron based solely on looks. Her thoughts began to drift off to that red-haired man she lost to earlier. He was certainly peculiar in his tone and actions. Even his moments and combative technique aided to this forming hypothesis of just who Tirian was. She knew already who his father was, and the atrocious actions that side of the continent had fallen to due to that dictator. Lucille wrinkled her nose up in disgust for a moment and fell back into the chair with a heavy sigh, just too much thinking for one day.

The slender teen stood abruptly from the chair with a mission, leaving the tavern in a cloud of dust as she ran towards a building odd and peculiar people tended to gather at. Lucille made great time, coming up to the worn down door covered with aged moss. The building seemed cracked and tested by time all the way back to ancient history. The scene was empty and not a soul seemed to be in sight, Lucille did not have the patience to simply sit and wait. Instead the hasty girl kicked at the stone door until it shifted enough for her slender frame to squeeze on by. Noise of distant chatter quickly hovered in the air, followed by silence from the loud noises. 

“Intruder!”
Suddenly Lucille found herself enclosed by a circle of various races of men and women. The circle parted to the sight of two faces, both familiar. Broxigar and Tirian looked at one another and then back to the impatient and smug looking Lucille before letting out friendly laughter.

“She’s with us. Don’t jump to extremes boys.”

Broxigar spoke with a calm and befriending tone, causing the circle to dissolve with disgusted looks and groans of unhappiness. The trio returned to a room, silent as the night before Tirian spoke up.

“They came from the night, attacking with a group stronger than a hundred. Goblins, Orcs and even cave trolls my friend. We were saved by a wolf god and then a remaining goblin began to spoke of darkness coming and heart seeds.”

Broxigar listened intently, his expression never changing and his eyes never moving. Lucille anxiously looked around the room wondering just what the hell this place was.

“When Dark Emperor fell, my race lost its pride and power. Many of us turned to an orchish warlock, Gul’dan and formed the cult you were just speaking of. Times are dangerous my friend make sure you keep those keen eyes open for the signs.”

“Thanks for the information Broxigar. I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop. Time to take my leave. Lucille. You’ll have to come with me, this group doesn’t quite like new comers.”
Lucille opened her mouth to rebel but was quickly stopped by an intense gaze from the red-headed warrior. Reluctantly, she stood from the chair and exited Sanctuary with Tirian. Upon exiting the question burning brighter and hotter than even the sun erupted from the impatient teen.

“WHAT was that place? Seriously. Stuck up like a jeweler merchant in Tyrael.”

“A home to magical beings. A place for magic users. Now please keep quiet. I can’t think when you talk louder than a war horn.”

Lucille shot Tirian and angry look and then turned a pouty face forwards. Silence encompassed the duo until they came upon the inn, entering and then conversation started once more.

“That is Rudolf.”

Tirian pointed to the dwarf who’d been drinking in a corner.

“Make sure you tell him you’d like to join. I have other things to attend to.”

Tirian gave no chance for the girl to answer as his mind quickly jumped to Serna. Maybe she had awoken. What a sight it would be. Tirian hurried his pace up a flight of stairs until coming to an open room with the twins. Both awake and looking well!