Da children had decided it was time to bring some dishonor ta Lower Black Rock Spire. A call wented out to all da children of proper seasonin, be der er be called sissy boy fer da rest a yer days. Fer me, da title Sissy Boy would be a step up, but I decided ta go anyway.

I gotted der early, an still had a lingerin hangover from all da Pink Fizzberry juice I had been drinkin lately, so I decided ta sleep it off. I sat down on da big floatin rock wit chains holdin it up, an dozzed off. When I woked a bit later, I had da most wonderful feelin a warmth an security I'd had in a long time. It was almost as if a tiny lovely angel had been watchin over me in me sleep ta be sure I camed to no harm.

With dat feelin a bein cared fer bolsterin me, I climbed da chain an stood at da entrance to da dungeon. Der was a number a alliance types der as well, an since I had a bunch a snowballs in me pack, I decided ta let dem know dat it was da season ta get pelted. Da most fun was me game a hide an seek snow ball tag wit a very loverly white haired Night Elf rogue.

Once da alliance had moved on an da children had arrived, we got serious (sort a) and began to spread da dishonor (an da remainin snow balls I had brought). Dis was me first outin wit many a me brudders an sisters, an it was a most enlightenin and humblin experience fer me. Da children was a force ta be reconned wit. We move from room to room, leavin death, destruction and da mark of dishonor behind us. My role consisted mainly a stealthin up ta da enemy an sappin one a dem. Wit me rogie mates we thinned der numbers while da rest a da children finished dem off.

Bosses an minions alike fell to our blades an spells. There was no opponent who met us who did not die. When it was all said and done, we painted da graffiti a dishonor all over da walls a dat place wit da blood of da former inhabitants. Long will dey remember da day da children camed ta visit.

When it was done, an all da children had dispersed an gone der way, I returned to da spot I had napped earlier. I bowed down an whispered a word a thanks to da little angel dat watched over me. I knewed her aura a care an protection had seen me through da day.

- From Tales of a Tailor, by Gharote

" ... the "The Laughing Jester."

It was night in Stormwind. Well past midnight and well before dawn. The quiet and the still when the world was at its most empty, the dark when the shadows slipped through the stone bound town like little hounds of death.

She sat on the arch of one of the many bridges, heels lightly tapping the keystone below, watching as the stars went out one by one by one as a front of clouds slowly rolled in above the streets and interlinked canals.

She looked down at a small missive written in a handful of languages, of which only two she could understand. She smoothed the wrinkled paper on her lap, squinting as she made out the words slowly in the dying light, her finger tracing the words as she whispered.

"... no longer welcome ..."

She turned her head, to look up at the big voidwalker standing watch over her.

"... well, we know what that feels like, don't we Mezzy."

The warlock folded her hands in her lap, head ducking, the hat's wide brim concealing her eyes, her features, hiding the hurt she couldn't help but share.

"Oh no Mezzy, this ain't the kind of thing you can solve with talons.

"It ain't that kind of thing at all."

One hand reached up, turned into a little fist, which first rubbed her cheek, just below her soft eyes.

"I can't help but think ...

"That at the exact time Mister Dominik was writing this ...

"We were on the way to the molten depths beneath Blackrock Mountain."

Her smile was small and sad, a touch poignant, as she considered the missive and that night.

"When Mister Dominik was writing this ... we had just come down that long wrought iron chain, all alone, me and you.

"And there he was. Just resting. Asleep. Don't know why or when or how, that really wasn't important at all.

"It's not safe there Mezzy, not at all.

"Especially if you are an Orc, all alone."

Her head tilted, quiet, as she looked across to the big blue voidwalker.

"I met Jaina Proudmoore once. There in Theramore. And I can't help but hope ...

"That she would have smiled, just a bit, as we sat down, and made sure Mister Orc stayed safe. That at least one of us remembered not only what she stands for, not only who she fought ... but also, who she fought with.

"Now, I'm much too short to be her. And I doubt I'd ever see, let alone, meet a Horde folk as important as Master Thrall. But did you notice something, Mezzy?"

There was a small smile there, as the gnome lass hugged herself lightly.

"Did you notice his clothes. Oh Mezzy, you could see, you could almost hear, I was so tempted to reach out and feel the silk, the fine threadwork, the embroidered key patterns running about hems and cuffs. They were not just traded in coin from some vendor in Ogrimmar. They were made ... with care, with skill, with love ...

"His hands were those of a tailor, Mezzy.

"Just like me."

Her hands turned upwards, as she just looked down at them.

"Just like me.

Soft eyes closed.

"It's easy to hate, Mezzy. It really is. It's so easy to paint a portrait of someone fel and horrid, to let words and rhetoric lead you like a wolf on a leash, to take away everything from a folk until they is nothing left but a caricature of darkness and death.

"But that all falls apart ...

"When you realize that they are just folks. Just like me. Just like you.

"And that there is common ground.

"Two tailors. Meeting upon the rocks of a mountain black."

Soft eyes opened, to look down at a missive, at that a catch of breath while she slowly crumpled the notice up.

"Another win for the Burning Legion ... "

Standing, the little gnome walked quietly along the canals, the water black, in the shadow of stone and half timbered buildings.

" ... and we all lost, Mezzy."

Ta sleep... perchance ta dream:

It is da most pleasent dream I has had in me entire Mudders Boy life. In it, I sits alone in da darkness, sleeping yet aware of the emptiness. Den in da distance two lights comes toward me. One is small an burns wit da pure white a kindness an innocence. Da udder is much larger an blue, hovering in a obviously protective way over da white light.

Da two lights settle in front a me, an slowly all around me da darkness begins ta melt away. It is replaced wit a meadow full a wild flowers dat sway rythimicly to a barely felt breeze. As da darkness retreats further from da intensity a da small white light, a waterfall can beez seen feedin a loverly pool of water. A colorful rainbow of colors hangs in da mist risin from da pool.

To one side a da pool stand a Troll Lass a Tauren Bull an A forsake woman, dey is armed an armored. To da udder side stands a bearded Dwarf, a Elvish Lass an a Hummie man, also armed an armored. Dey all stares at da rainbow dat is created by da mist of da waterfall and da light of da two entities standin next ta me. Da animosity which is etched into der faces as dey stares across da pond at eachudder slowly begins ta fade, much like da darkness did.

One by one, dey drops der weapons an begins ta shed der armors. Dey den enters da pool an moves toward eachudders. Instead of fightin, dey embrase and begins ta frolik playfully in da waters. At dat moment, a small hand takes mine. I looks down at where da lights was, an I sees a loverly gnomish lass, who is holdin da hand of a large blue strangely handsome entity. She looks in me eyes an says "come Marion, join the dream."

Da three a us walks into da waters an joins da udders.

When I awoked, I was alone, sittin on da rock in da Black Rocks I had dozed off on. Ifn I coulda, I woulda stayin in dat dream ferevers.

- From Tales of a Tailor, by Gharote

Four years have passed since the mortal races had banded together and stood against the might of the Burning Legion. And though Azeroth was saved the tenuous bonds between the Horde and Alliance have all but evaporated. The drums of war thunder again.

- from the cinematic introduction to World of Warcraft, by Blizzard Entertainment.

I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.

- Dwight David Eisenhower

Anyone who has ever looked into the glazed eyes of a soldier dying on the battlefield will think hard before starting a war.

- Otto von Bismarck

Whoever told you that They've us forgotten is wrong.
It's me and you Mezzy, we know the day of Their comin' ain't long.
And we are just not that strong.

- Nellisynthia Nellastatia of Kharanos

Peace is not God's gift to his creatures. It is our gift to each other.

- Elie Wiesel