The shadow bolt stuck with precision, blasting the hunter off his feet and into the dust and dirt.  The clawed hand was around his throat quickly, lifting him up like a rag doll and holding him off the ground.  

"What do you mean you cant finish her now?!" the voice snarled, bared fangs glinting as the light of nebula and stars illuminated the depths of the hood over the slave masters face.

He gasped, gurgled slightly... "I..They...gyskk.. safe... house..." was all he managed as the grip tightened and cut off his breathing.  He groped at the strong arm that held him up, but then felt his head go numb as it released him suddenly and he landed with a hollow thud on his back, gasping.

The cloaked figure stepped away, contemplating.  He stood near the altar and leaned against it.  

The hunter picked himself up slowly, hands in the dirt he stared at his reflection in the green fel pools.  He felt himself break further seeing his ruined face.  Deep dark circles around fully blood filled eyes.  His face ravaged, the skin gray and lifeless.  His lips were cracked and constantly bleeding.  He wasnt sure how he still lived, what foul necromancy was at work, or what might happen next...  He wanted to kill himself, but he wanted to kill his slaver more.

"Where did you track her?" the raspy voice asked from the alter.

The hunter looked up from the pool and climbed to his feet.  "Garadar, in Nagrand." he said in an almost whisper from such a sore throat.  

The figure nodded slowly.  "Perhaps this will work to our advantage."  He turned, deep violet eyes staring at the decrepit hunter.  "They have imprisoned their own.  She cant stay there forever.  Wait them out."  He walked up and pulled the fanged dagger from his belt, holding it in front of the hunters face and dragging the curved edge across his cheek slowly.  "There will be more pain for you than that pathetic orc if you fail me."  He shoved the hunter backwards and onto the ground.  

"That was quite the spectacle, yes?  I am so very happy you got to see that, It will be even more wonderful to watch the little scribe do the same to herself wont it?  Will you love to see her tear herself open for you?  Oh yes, I can already taste her light..."  He chides the hunter as he licks his lips.  

He takes out a sack of gold and tosses it into the dirt next to the hunter.  "I have procured more true-silver.  Go, pay the man and make some more arrowheads.  We will have to approach this differently..."  

With a flourish of Felfire, the large figure vanishes into the ash and dust of Helfire.

The hunter picks up the bag and attaches it to his belt.  Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, he begins his journey to Northrend....