The winds of Hellfire Peninsula shrieked and howled in equal measure. Loose sand did its best to erode whatever material was in its way and worked itself into the degraded joints of a lone Forsaken priest. Thrallmar was still standing for the most part; the lack of foot traffic had allowed great heaps of red sand to build up over anything it could. Lupinum stood with a wince against the grating granules. Something in his gut had lead him back here to Outland. The Priest had spent years out here before finding his way to the Grim. It was for his guild that he had come back. Ruined bastions the Legion had left behind still dotted the world and it was in these that Lupinum searched.
He turned away from the edge of the bluff where he had been watching remnants of a forgotten Legion force bicker and fight among themselves. Azlizarin, his Bloodwing, rested with her wingtips dug into the dirt. In her jaw were several scorpid desperately fighting for escape. "Take it to go, Ali. There's nothing to see here," the Forsaken sighed heavily before jerking his feet into the stirrups and vaulting into the plush saddle. It had been weeks... months, maybe, since he had left Tirisfal with hardly a word. A letter given to the Inquisition, strict verbal instructions for the Illidari... Lupinum figured the Demon hunter would know a thing or two about warfare and if not, then there would be a vacancy to be filled when he returned.
Alizarin's leather wings gained the sky on one of many plentiful thermals. A skillful dip of her wings brought them in line with Thrallmar's distant towers. The Priest licked his lips. The innkeeper was a crotchety old Forsaken who kept the beer flowing. "The only decent part about this Felblasted hole," Lupinum thought glumly.