After a relatively calm journey across the Great Sea, the four docked at Menethil harbour and set foot back in the Eastern Kingdoms once more. Yearning for hearth and home, and after Codin had sent off a courier holding a fair portion gold for the people of Southshore, they wasted no time in heading south, towards Dun Algaz. Their feet were sore and blistered, their backs aching under the weight of their packs, but a sense of accomplishment and comradeship kept them going. They knew they would need it, because after all, there was still a fair ways to walk ahead of them before they were home safe.

~~~

Birds fluttered overhead as the early morning sun peeked through the pine trees of Loch Modan. The roar of crashing water flowing through the Stonewrought Dam echoed across the valley, as dear Belmin Hammerbrand departed from his comrades. The four stood atop the dam, looking out on to the Wetlands in the distant north, sharing a moment of peace. The atmosphere was idyllic, but as always, Belmin was the first to speak up.
"Well, it's been a fair canny trip boys." He smiled, hoisting his hammer onto his shoulder and going to shake his comrades hand's.
"Good luck, Codin. Watch that watch of yours." Nodded the Dwarf.
"Aye and you watch that liver of yours, too." Grinned the Warrior, pointing to his sack of fine liquor. The two shared a firm handshake and parted with knowing grins.
"Good luck, Belmin." Said Fizzbiscuit, trying to hide the catch in his throat.
"Aye, you too, shortie." Laughed the Mountaineer, punching him in the shoulder. The gnome immediately regretted his kind feelings. The Dwarf then looked up to the towering Night Elf.
"Good luck with that fine personality of yours, Elf." Guffawed the Mountaineer.
"I'd like to say that it was a pleasure serving with you, Master Dwarf, but I'd rather not part with a lie." Hwinion retorted. To this, Belmin laughed even harder.
"Ahh, you're alright, Elfie. Right, seeya boys. I'm off."
"Be seeing you, mate."
"Take care, Belmin."
"Farewell, Dwarf."
The Dwarven Mountaineer marched off into the early morning sun, presumably to the Thelsamar Tavern, with a pep in his step and a glint in his eye.

~~~

Fizzbiscuit climbed off of his Griffon and looked out across the sight that way Booty Bay. With the familiar smell of cheap alcohol and bodily fluids filling his nose, he tipped the flight master a gold piece and walked off down the walkway, gazing out at the evening sun reflecting off the bay. The Gnome Mage felt oddly at home as he strolled through the town that was once his cage. Wasting no time, he made straight for the Salty Sailor, where outside he saw a familiar sight. His good friends, Grom and Drak, were sitting outside of the Tavern, busy nursing their wounds from yet another punch up at the bar. Drak looked up to see the small, purple robed Mage making his way towards them, with a sack over his shoulder and a smile on his face.

"Oh no, not him again." Sighed Drak.
"Wot is it, Drak?" Asked Grom.
"Salutations, friends." Grinned Fizzbiscuit.
"Oh no, not you." Groaned Grom, tending to a nasty looking bruise on his jaw. "Here to steal more of our money, halfling?! Eh?!" He continued.
"Steal?! Why no, dear Grom, not steal. But I am willing to partake in a fine game of Ball and Cup, if two fine gentlemen such as yourself are interested?" Smirked Fizzbiscuit, setting himself down in his old spot next to the pile of crates and withdrawing three chalices from his sack. The look of temptation on the two Orcs face's was abhorrently clear.
"Fine! But no tricks this time." Grunted Drak.
"Yeah, no tricks, little'un." Grom echoed.
"Of course, gentlemen... of course." Giggled the Gnome.

~~~

The Elf and the Man dismounted the Deeprun Tram with a horde of merchants and travellers and stepped out into the smoke and smog of the Dwarven District of Stormwind. Safe and sound at home, the two went on a leisurely stroll through the cobbled streets of the Alliance capital, recounting the hijinks of their journey and enjoying the warm summer evening. Eventually, the two reached the Pig and Whistle Tavern, where the Saturday night goings-on were already in full swing. Loud music and raucous laughter drifted out into the narrow, torch lit streets of Old Town as Hwinion and Codin walked past the door. A particularly beaten looking townsman flew out of the doorway, followed by two burly looking mercenaries on his tail.
"Just another Saturday night, eh?" Chuckled Codin.
"Indeed." Sighed the Elf, pulling to a halt outside of his door. "Well, this is where my journey ends, friend." He continued, reaching out his hand to shake the Warrior's. Codin shook his friends hand and gave him a wink.
"It's been good, Pal. Thanks again for saving my arse back in Elwynn all those weeks ago." He thanked.
"Oh, no bother. Thank you for bringing me along, Master Brackbyrne. It's been quite the journey." Smiled Hwinion.
"So it has, Hwinion. It's been a pleasure." Smiled the Warrior.
"The pleasure is all mine. Ishnu Alah, Codin." Bowed Hwinion.
"Ishnu Alah, Hwinion." Replied Codin, once again butchering the pronunciation in his strong northern accent. "Perhaps I'll see you down at the Lion's Pride sometime?"
"Perhaps, as long as there's no Defias lurking in the shadows again." Stated the Hunter.
"I can't promise anything." Laughed Codin. The two exchanged nods and parted ways.
"Oh Bloody Hellfire!"
Codin came rocketing back up the street, finding the Night Elf slumped by the door to his compact dwelling.
"Hwinion, what is it?!" Asked the Warrior. The Night Elf looked up to his companion with a look of disdain in his eyes.
"I forgot to water my Peace Lily..." Stated the Elf, placing his head in his hands. Codin burst out into laughter.
"Some Son of the Forest, you are!" He replied, near doubled over. And so Codin walked off whistling into the torch lit streets of Stormwind, leaving poor Hwinion to tend to his deceased Lily.

~~~

The jolly hum of fiddle and drum filled the room as Codin walked into the Lion's Pride Inn, escaping the pouring rain of the late night summer shower. The blazing hearth warmed him deeply as he waltzed into the pub, sitting down by the bar. The familiar sound of cheerful conversation between the townspeople and jovial folk singing made him smile. 'Home sweet home.'
"Oh hello, Codin. Fancy a drink?" Greeted the balding innkeeper.
"Please, if you don't mind, Farley." Replied Codin, pulling back his hood and adjusting his well kept beard and hair.
"One pint of Goldshire Brown, coming right up." Smiled Innkeeper Farley. "So where've you been, anyway, Codin. I haven't seen you in weeks." He continued, passing the Warrior a well-earned pint of brown ale. Codin sat back on the old bar stool and took a deep swig of his drink. He then set the tankard down and gave out a loud belch.
"Oh, just out running some errands, that's all." Explained the Warrior.
"For five weeks?!" Questioned the Innkeeper.
"Oh, aye. I just had a lot of jobs to do, that's all." Replied Codin, smiling.
"Fair enough." Nodded Farley, as he resumed spit-cleaning his mugs and directing the kitchen-staff. Codin sat back, took another swig and sighed. Here he was, back where it all started, sitting in the same stool and drinking the same drink. How he had gotten here though, as we all know, was a much different story.