Callings part I

Buthaleirus snickered. Talking to Shentu'l always proved entertaining. Between the youthful enthusiastic would-be assassins seeking approval and promotion, and the blood-thirsty proficient killers needing re-training and validation, some roguery was always afoot.

Tonight was no different. However, this night, Butha paid less attention to their requests and more attention to the weapons of choice used by the both the young and the old.

"Ah' be noticin da ahlmost all da sneaks now-a-daiz be usin eithah meh beat sticks, er da lon' blades." Buthaleirus commented to Shentu'l, as the trainer finished his third salute in the last ten minutes. "Where all da pointies?."

"Ahhh, bruddah, daggahs be fallin outta favah lon' ago." Shentul answered. "Luk at ju'. Joo be half da reahson some sneaks be usin da mayces an hammahs. Besides, dem biggah weapons jus be easiah ta use. Nah fahncy feetswork, jus slashin an bashin."

"Yah, but evfen da pups be switchin." Butha nodded with a solemn look on his face, as he watched an undead rogue barely into his tenth season carrying a sword shimmy up to the trainer. Dey nawt evfen learnin da pointies gud." He continued, as he felt the pommel the dagger tucked inside belt. "Dis nawt a gud ting, nawt gud at all. How can a sneak, reahlly be a sneak, iffen dey dun' be learnin da bahsics."

"Joo aint goin ta see meh fightin words wit dat brudda." The trainer agreed, nodding to a disappointed Buthaleirus. "Dah quahstion be, whut joo goin ta do bout its?" He asked, looking to the Butha's maces, maces, which Butha helped popularize.

"Meh?" The ever-student responded with a puzzled tone and look. "Whut joo meanin, meh? Joo da teachah. Joo jus stahp teachin dem pups wrong."

Ignoring the young undead sword rogue standing in-front of him, Shentul turned to the Shadowmaster, placed a hand on Butha's shoulder and switched his dialect to troll. "My friend, I've learned long ago, you can only teach what folks want to learn."

Buthaleirus sighed deeply and listened intently as his Trainer continued.

"You know my meaning. I'm just an old rogue, trying to help wherever I can. But, you Butha, you are not so old. You are the one fighting mystical beasts. You are the one killing alliance. You are among the ones the youth look-up to." Pulling Buthaleirus closer and placing his other hand on the Shadowmaster's other shoulder, he continued. His tone grew softer and more serious. "You have heard as I have, the northern wind is blowing stronger. Things will be getting bad sooner, rather then later, and change is afoot. The horde, and its rogues, will be needing leaders. Leaders that lead by example.

Easing Butha back to his original distance, Shentul' winked and watched as the Shadowmaster absorbed their exchange.

Shentul's words borrowed deep into Buthaleirus. The Shadowmaster allowed only a select few to speak to him with such priority. Shentul was one of those few. Butha had known the Trainer since before his mother's suicide.

So much had changed, so quickly for Buthaleirus. Perhaps now, what he needed more than anything was a return to his roots, a return to the shadows.

"I need to think on this brother." The long-time mace-wielder spoke softly in troll. "This is not an easy choice." Turning to leave, Butha's thoughts and more importantly, his feelings were a sea of confusion. He did indeed need to think on this decision, and he knew just the place for such thought.