Chapter 17

The End of All Things

All things do come to an end. Good or bad, there is a finish.

Koramosh commandeered the zeppelin they had "borrowed" for the trip, sure that they would not miss it for a bit longer. No doubt, he would keep it. He would probably return to the Thousand Needles, where his engineering endeavors would continue. Perhaps then he would move up, and join an engineer's guild at Gadgetzan, where his true techonological prowess could be mustered for the greater good.

After giving a farewell to Stefan, Gordreck decided he would take time off of fighting, and laboring for that matter. With the pocket change he had left, he would spend time in the great city of Ironforge. No doubt, the Dwarf would be drinking his heart out and dallying with the waitresses. But there were no qualms to his decisions; the warrior had earned every ounce of it.

Guro'jintal returned to the Darkspear, where he and Stefan spent time together, telling stories of their adventures with the rest of the tribe. They had made the aquaintance of the Human before, but now they had sealed a friendship over a roaring fire, good food, and legendary encounters. Guro'jintal would remain to lead his people into prosperity.

Gerita Windsorrow died upon the summit of the Dark Portal. She was buried within the Ghostlands, the skull of the Eredar Rok'Roham a headstone for her grave. Upon the stone were five words:

Passion will set you free.

It is there to remind all that where there is a will, there is the fire from within.

After seeing to Gerita's proper burial, Stefan Dreis returned to Booty Bay. There were no parades, no celebrations, no liquor passed about. He returned to the marketing centre as quietly as he had left. The only change was that somewhere along the way, he had lost his hat, and was in need of new weapons.

---

Ori jumped into consciousness as his chin fell away from his propped up arm. He drearily looked around the room, and seeing that it was just as empty, assumed the position upon the counter once again. It was the end of the week, ships were leaving port, warrants were out, and there was work to be done in the morning. Everyone was either asleep or dead.

His head began to slide away again. He caught himself, grumbling as he adjusted his position. His eyes opened halfway, and was taken aback when something was standing on the other side of the counter. He jumped, a wad of drool escaping his lips before he could react. A man was standing across from him.

"Hard at work as usual, I see, Ori," said the man.

"You know it, sneaky bugger," replied the Goblin, pulling out an unusually dirty rag and wiping the spittle away. Ori glanced at the man's belt, and when he noticed something missing, looked up to meet the Human's tired gaze. He noticed too that his mane of wild, wavy hair was unprotected as well.

"Stefan, where's your hat? And your maces! You don't take a piss without those woodies shoved up yer arse!"

He sighed. "It's a long story, Ori."

"I've got all night, my boy! Here, I'll get you a drink. The usual," said the Goblin, hopping off a stool before disappearing beneath the counter.

"Wait, Ori. Not yet," said Stefan. The Goblin's head poked up, his eyes quizzical.

"What's the matter?"

"I...Have to do something first. Then I'll have that drink," Stefan began, turning to look up the stairs leading to the rooms. "Ori...is she...?"

The Goblin shook his head. "She's at the docks, my friend. I got your note a few days back."

"Good, good. I'll be back, then. You'll be here?"

"What, you think I've got a life or something? Of course."

Stefan turned and went up the stairs. His muscles ached, but the physical hinderance seemed so irrelevant. There was one last thing to do.

He entered the room. The smell came first, the familiar scent of Lorelein, whether it was her or the perfume she wore. It didn't matter. It had been so long since he had been in this room, a beautiful woman in his bed, a bright future just outside the window. He might have turned it all around. Then he remembered how he had found her, motionless and cold, blood everywhere.

He shook his head as he looked away from the bed and began rummaging through the drawers of the nightstand.

No one deserves that. No one deserves me.

His fingers ran along the soft fabrics. He pulled the rolled-up tapestry from the dark drawer, watching the moonlight set its contours aglow. The figures of the warrior and the maiden shown brightly in the light. He felt tears begin to form, but surpressed them.

Especially not her.

He closed the drawer, tapestry under one arm. He paused in the doorway, looking at the room one last time, then shut the door behind him.

When he returned downstairs, Ori was still there, amusing himself with a glass. He turned as Stefan came down, smiling.

"Dock 5, at the very end," said the Goblin simply. Stefan nodded silently, not stopping as he made for the door. But Ori stopped him once again.

"Oh, Stefan! I forgot to tell you. Someone came down the day before, looking for you. Said she was a good friend. She's waiting for you at the docks."

---

The stars had not changed their positions for the last hour. Only the moon seemed to shift in the sky. As the ocean sloshed about quietly beneath, she wondered about all the things that were not as predictable. She knew the moon would be there tomorrow. She knew the stars would shine just as brightly. And she knew that come daybreak, the ocean would still be in eternal sways. Knowledge was comforting.

The creaking of planks caught her attention. She turned around, and smiled as she saw who approached.

"I was told you were a good friend. It was an understatement," said Stefan. She smiled.

"I'm flattered," she replied, watching as he took a seat next to her on the edge of the dock. Two more legs joined hers dangling over the edge.

Stefan turned to look over at the Night Elf. For the first time, he was looking upon her in casual wear. She looked different without a war harness and a pair of daggers. Her hair glowed bright purple in the moon light, as did her pale-purple skin. The inherent glow of her Elven eyes had retracted, revealing a pair of dark brown pupils. The silk gown she wore accentuated her powerful, lithe body.

"You look great, Iyana," said Stefan after a moment.

She smiled again, than looked concernedly at Stefan. "You look tired."

He nodded. "I am. No sleep these last few days. I was bunking with a Dwarf. Snores like a crocolisk." She laughed at his joke.

"I'm glad to see you Stefan. It was good to hear that you found Rok'Roham, and dealt with him accordingly," she said, running a slender hand through her hair. "I think if I had been there, I couldn't have controlled myself. It was better that I stayed at Cenarion Hold."

"Revenge is a terrible poison. There is no cure," he said.

"How did you deal with it?"

He paused. The truth was, he didn't. He hid it, buried the vile, self-destructive thing somewhere in his heart. He locked it away with all the other regrets, hoping he never came across them again. Always hoping.

"I keep looking for the antidote," he replied. Iyana leaned in, placing her lips gently on his. He did not push away.

When they parted, she spoke first. "Perhaps you've found it, Stefan."

How I wish you were right, he thought.

Stefan looked over at the coffin resting close by. He placed a hand on it's lid, turning back to Iyana.

"Do you know who this is?"

She nodded, closing her eyes.

"Do you also know, that when I first met her, my words were yours exactly?"

Iyana looked at Stefan with a mix of empathy and sympathy.

"I thought I had found the antidote, Iyana. I thought that, from here on, there would be no more killing. No more jobs, no supply runs, no trips over Azeroth. No more running around for a some gold in my pocket and liquor in my stein," he said softly. "All because of her."

Iyana layed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close.

"Look where Lorelein is now. And why? Because I had to fall in love with her."

"No," said Iyana. "Because she had to fall in love with you, Stefan."

The lock sprung open. All of it, every last drop of regret and guilt melted his heart away, burning a hole in his chest. He broke into a sob, burying his face in Iyana's chest. She held him close, running a hand through his hair. She embraced his sorrow, accepted him with open arms. The great Stefan Dreis, bounty hunter and all-around hardass, wept like a child.

"Why me?" he moaned. "Why..."

"Because, Stefan," whispered Iyana, brushing her lips against his ear, "Somewhere out there, whether it be Elune, the Light, or the elements...they know you are strong enough. And even the strongest of men cry, Stefan."

"I don't want to be this beast of burden! Why couldn't I be normal, the coolie that unloads sacks of wheat day in and day out for the rest of his life? The guy who will come home to a warm meal and a loving wife and beautiful children? Why not?"

"If you don't do it, Stefan, who will?"

His sobs echoed off the waters, bouncing off into the still, night sky. The stars remained stalwart, never once averting their gaze.