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Authors: Tybilt Pook


Tybilt expected Pook to have over-packed for their vacation, given her affinity for changing her outfits to match her mood or surroundings. He rode up the path where Pook was waiting at the Garrison, donning the proverbial cat-who-ate-the-canary smile and holding only two full backpacks. Tybilt blushed at the fact that he had brought three packs brimming with supplies and clothes.

It was deep in the night and all around them in Stormwind and Elwynn Forest, the denizens of the Alliance slept. Given all the happenings of the previous nights; Pook getting kidnapped, the Brigades swift and terrible retribution on the responsible parties and their allies, and the new alliance with the Horde guild called Haven, they both were exhausted physically as well as emotionally. When Tybilt heard Pook suggest a vacation, he immediately suggested they just grab their bags and go that night.

It was a refreshing change to not plan anything and just see where the roads would lead them. Cromwell was a mastermind at intricate and elaborate schemes, but Tybilt and Pook needed a break from planning and plotting, they needed to just follow their noses for a while and see where it took them.

As they started off down the path, a gentle breeze blew through Elwynn Forest, seemingly making the air around them lighter and friendlier; even the stars seemed to glow a bit brighter. After riding for a short while, they made camp near the shore in Westfall, the gurgling sounds of some primitive murlocs blending with the crashing waves of the ocean in the distance.

The dawn came bright and early as the sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the ocean and the shore in a soft pink glow. Tybilt awoke early and found Pook curled up next to him, still in a deep slumber, her hair tussled in a ball behind her. Yawning deeply, Tybilt scratched at his chin and started to realize that something was not exactly right.

He fumbled through their camp and noticed that their belongings were not where they had left them the night before. Counting the packs that lay before them, he came up with four. Not the five that they set out with. Pook mumbled something but remained fast asleep, relatively undisturbed by his fidgeting. As Tybilt rummaged through their packs, he quickly found that his pack full of trinkets and weapons was the missing pack.

The ire began to boil up in Tybilt as his anger was mixed with embarrassment in the realization that someone, or something, stole up on them during the night, robbed them, and he was oblivious. His self-loathing episode was interrupted by a loud clamor on the seashore. Standing up and adjusting his eyes, he could see a couple of small murloc huts on the shore and a commotion of activity surrounding them.

It appeared that some poor adventurer had wandered too close to the huts and was now a murloc breakfast. Tybilt laughed in the same way that one laughs at the fool who trips in a pothole or slips and falls. Until he looked closer at the murlocs.

Tybilt could see an open pack of items next to them HIS items! The murlocs had taken some various weapons and trinkets out of the pack and tied them to a barnacle-encrusted rope. They were using the rope to lure hapless and greedy adventurers into their small village and well the ensuing feeding frenzy was the gruesome end to that.

"...Fishing! ...I can't believe they are fishing...! ...Bait and a line!" Tybilt stood slack jawed in amazement at the scene in front of him. He had always assumed murlocs were next to mindless rampaging monsters, like sharks on two legs. but seeing this filled him with some respect for the cleverness and ingeniousness of the monsters.

As amazing as it was he needed what was in those packs, and the battle-scarred rogue who had survived so much and was a seasoned as any of the elite members of the Alliance headed down to the shore....


...Pook awoke to the sound of frying in a skillet as the warmth of a campfire cut through the chill of the Westfall morning. Tybilt kissed her on the nose as she yawned, wiping the sleep from her eyes and tucking her wild mess of hair behind her ears.

"Good morning sweetheart. We're having fish for breakfast!"


The water was still and quiet, almost unnaturally so for the ocean. Tybilt swam off the shore of Stranglethorn, floating, scanning the horizon with his eyes...there was something ominous about...

Suddenly something took hold of his foot and yanked him underwater. He surfaced with a gasp a second later, flailing, only to be pulled under again.

The surface of the calm water betrayed no sign of where he'd gone...

Under the water, he found himself face to face with a rather vicious animal, long-fanged and long-eared. A shower of bubbles erupted and the animal's face resolved itself into Pook's grinning expression. He pulled her close and kissed her, blowing bubbles into her mouth playfully, and then the two of them swam up to the shore.

"Druids cheat!" Tybilt declared, spreading out on the sand.

"Oh, you'rre one to talk!" Pook said, rolling her shoulder experimentally. She was still a bit sore...she'd tell Tybilt about how she'd gone back to town "just for a minute" to turn in items to the Darkmoon Faire and had ended up getting shot by Remrant after their vacation was over. She'd been expertly healed up at the Cathedral and it was no use ruining their time over it.

"Rogues cheat, always. It's what we do," Tybilt said with a nod, closing his eyes. "But Druids are supposed to be noble, maintaining the balance of Nature..."

"I'll balance YOU," Pook said, falling on him, her wet hair cascading down around his face.

For a time the Naga and Undead at the nearby Ruins of Aboraz watched the frolicking Elf and Human with confused expressions. They were close, but seemed to be no immediate threat...

After a time Pook looked down the shore contemplatively as she rubbed Tybilt's shoulders, pausing occasionally to nuzzle the nape of his neck affectionately. "Sweethearrt...?"

"Hmm?" Tybilt asked, leaning into her hands.

A wide, somewhat disturbing grin spread across her face. "Have you everr wanted to be a pirrate?"

Some time later, Tybilt and Pook hauled the last of the corpses to the side of the boat to pitch it into the water.

"Wait!" Tybilt said, removing the Captain's hat from the dead Goblin, and then shoved the body over the side.

"Hang on...why do YOU get to be the Captain?" Pook asked with a smirk. She had put on some of the less bloody bucaneer clothes they'd been able to find, but let's face it, clearing the ship was dirty work.

"You can be my First Mate!" Tybilt declared, striding over to the ship's wheel, pilfered flask of volatile rum in hand.

"Hmm...and suppose I rrebel?" Pook purred at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he stood in a very Captain-like fashion at the helm.

"Then I will be forced to put down your mutiny...and lock you in the brig!" He turned and hoisted Pook on his shoulder, squirming and giggling, and carried her below decks.

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