Your glow tags are all showing inside the chapter.
Undying Scarab
- Thread starter greysongarr
- Start date
- Location
- United States, Texas
... Sneaky was the one that did all the BBcode.
I have no idea how to mess with it, but I'll let him know.
- Location
- United States, Texas
The Tanya-Kancolle story is current in its last phase before beta-ing, as Sneaky's time was spent on his health and Scarab first before finishing the last section we needed, so as of this moment there is no link to it.
Well, that's not at all terrifying.
"Master! I have it! I've found a way to obliterate Wraith's body!"
"NO! NO! A THOUSAND TIMES NO! Last time someone obliterated her body it merely mildly annoyed her... and may have unleashed a primal force of endless destruction, an unending appetite that would consume the world!"
How many dragons did she eat???
How pathetic or powerful are these dragons in this world? The ones she's eating like theatre popcorn?
Ahahaha. Taylor finding the hidden information.
And the precog's visions are flawed.
Ahahaha.
Ok.
So, I think QA stepped in, Gated Taylor out of there, and rebuilt her body/shell.
And probably took the dragonbone body for herself.
Ahahahahahaha.
"I found it. It's mine."
Start of chapter: "Whosoever could teach me more magic? I have dryads and satyrs..."
End of chapter: "Whosoever could teach me more magic? I have an Archmage in the guest castle."
Oddly difficult.
Hmmm.
Ahahahaha.
TELL HER you're saving her.
Eh, probably wouldn't help anyway.
Taylor isn't really good at giving up.
Ahahahahaha.
Ho ho ho.
Now I have a dragon.
Idiot bosses - nothing new for Taylor.
Ahahahahahahaha!
I love this line. It's full of 'Back where I grew up, a gang like this would have been destroyed in less than a week!"
Ahahahaha.
Alex is Confused.
I have to wonder - is Taylor the Undead Aspect of Death or something?
Heh! Alex is about to be more confused!
Great chapter.
Another epic action filled chapter, interesting. I am now looking forward to the refractory period that isn't just Taylor chatting with QA or filled with internal narration. She's going to bless the pool, exchange three sentences with the dryads, then go and ask Gothik what he needs perhaps starting a short conversation of magical theory before being interrupted by another disaster, isn't she. Poor priestess, two disasters while she was out of a hunt.
I must say that I have no idea what is going on with Taylor's mana pool at this point. One moment she almost exhausts herself from blocking a single blast from Malygos and a single dragon's soul is enough to top her off, the next she is starving and numerous dragons are doing little to satisfy her. But then she's fine following QA's intervention? Considering the last time this happened, my best bet at this point is that Taylor and QA have two completely separate mana pools and QA refills Taylor whenever she relinquishes control. And also that when Malygos burned off Taylor's body and flayed her soul she discovered the difference between her usual active reserve of mana and the total mana comprising the entirety of her being. So when she was trying to quench her hunger she was trying to close those wounds without any knowledge of how to do so and just stuffing stolen mana into them like using vast quantities of cardboard to patch up a ship's hull.
There being a suppression model also poses interesting questions for just how would Taylor function without QA. We know she wouldn't have been to run mind games around the Scourge leaders, but this goes beyond that or simulating sadness when killing innocents. Unfortunately, not enough material to make theories.
PS: Also, unless the factions figure out a counter for Taylor's Soultheft/Drain, she has just become unstoppable by any conventional force and immune to attrition at a level not seen by any other Scourge member and comparable only to the likes of... well, Malygos and Archimonde. Every single battle Taylor faced so far, she could have just waded in by herself and soloed the Scarlet Crusade and both the Alliance and Horde landings simultaneously. Only the likes of Sigvald would've been a problem, but with her mobility even that would be ignorable by simply gating to the other side of the battlefield. And yes, she'd be surrounded and made into a pincushion, but I doubt swords and regular spellcasters would be able to out-damage the swarm of dragons in the air.
Seriously, her Soultheft has effectively very high damage, never misses, is an extremely good heal, and is spammable to boot. It's "Let's form our battle strategy around this ability" good.
I must say that I have no idea what is going on with Taylor's mana pool at this point. One moment she almost exhausts herself from blocking a single blast from Malygos and a single dragon's soul is enough to top her off, the next she is starving and numerous dragons are doing little to satisfy her. But then she's fine following QA's intervention? Considering the last time this happened, my best bet at this point is that Taylor and QA have two completely separate mana pools and QA refills Taylor whenever she relinquishes control. And also that when Malygos burned off Taylor's body and flayed her soul she discovered the difference between her usual active reserve of mana and the total mana comprising the entirety of her being. So when she was trying to quench her hunger she was trying to close those wounds without any knowledge of how to do so and just stuffing stolen mana into them like using vast quantities of cardboard to patch up a ship's hull.
There being a suppression model also poses interesting questions for just how would Taylor function without QA. We know she wouldn't have been to run mind games around the Scourge leaders, but this goes beyond that or simulating sadness when killing innocents. Unfortunately, not enough material to make theories.
PS: Also, unless the factions figure out a counter for Taylor's Soultheft/Drain, she has just become unstoppable by any conventional force and immune to attrition at a level not seen by any other Scourge member and comparable only to the likes of... well, Malygos and Archimonde. Every single battle Taylor faced so far, she could have just waded in by herself and soloed the Scarlet Crusade and both the Alliance and Horde landings simultaneously. Only the likes of Sigvald would've been a problem, but with her mobility even that would be ignorable by simply gating to the other side of the battlefield. And yes, she'd be surrounded and made into a pincushion, but I doubt swords and regular spellcasters would be able to out-damage the swarm of dragons in the air.
Seriously, her Soultheft has effectively very high damage, never misses, is an extremely good heal, and is spammable to boot. It's "Let's form our battle strategy around this ability" good.
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Still have some glow tags here. Also the second part is Taylor speaking, so I don't think it should be glowing? Or if it should be glowing, I don't think it is supposed to be the same color as the Dragon Aspect of Magic.
Marvelous, if this goes further some events may go really unexpected
- wraith gate and undercity assault - hmm this demon died just like previous one... but this city is a mess, ok team, grab anything valuable and lets move out, not in the mood to talk with living at the moment.
- meeting b4 ulduar - What is SHE doing here? - well, Lady Hebert came and asked for some knowledge of nature and life magic for her garden. She stays quiet in libraries, keeps books clean and undamaged, and helped us greatly with insane dragon aspect. So she is welcomed here. Should i remind you about "no fighting in this city" policy we have here?
-grand tournament - Go Stormwind! What? i used to be human, so i can cheer for humans, you have any problem with that? Could you repeat this for my friendly dragon?
- ICC - there must always be a LICH KING! - Nah, one Queen Administrator will be more that enough!
- cataclysm - Deathwing goes - I'M DEATH INCARNATE! - pst bro, you better go back to earthbending, or our friendly neighbourhood Lady Wraith may want a word with you.
- wraith gate and undercity assault - hmm this demon died just like previous one... but this city is a mess, ok team, grab anything valuable and lets move out, not in the mood to talk with living at the moment.
- meeting b4 ulduar - What is SHE doing here? - well, Lady Hebert came and asked for some knowledge of nature and life magic for her garden. She stays quiet in libraries, keeps books clean and undamaged, and helped us greatly with insane dragon aspect. So she is welcomed here. Should i remind you about "no fighting in this city" policy we have here?
-grand tournament - Go Stormwind! What? i used to be human, so i can cheer for humans, you have any problem with that? Could you repeat this for my friendly dragon?
- ICC - there must always be a LICH KING! - Nah, one Queen Administrator will be more that enough!
- cataclysm - Deathwing goes - I'M DEATH INCARNATE! - pst bro, you better go back to earthbending, or our friendly neighbourhood Lady Wraith may want a word with you.
Kehahahahahahahaha *mad crackle* lets go, qnd most of all, i felt the excitement and amusement, our girl is back, hehehhehe, i just wonder on what will Queenie will gain on data from the crown of the lichking and frostmourne.
This pasdage made me tear up, the sorrow and loss of her predicament, i hope she will gain her status of living again and go on a treck to redemption.
I love the sarcasm of annoyance.
OH.HE.IS.JUST.DONE and thr Bronze Dragons feel the same way ahahahahabababababa.
Found a wrong sentence.
*Dwarf Blackmamba cut of scream meme*
Damn, i thought it was Thrall
Hehhehehagahagahahaha, oh my lorde, what the hell, that was so fucking unexpected ehhahahahahaha
I just realized that the brown hand belongs to that Hellscream gnat.
Fools, the quest is not for you, but for her to gain powerful pawns.
Gods i hope Taylor discover that Queenie ate souls now...but did Mal'ganis did die? Or is his soul just so shredded there is no hope of being corporeal.
8 would be disturb if ahe created a branch of magic, she will call it "Radiation exposure."
Found a typo
Fuck, we have a flashback!
The Bronze Dragons are trying to wipe out Taylor and Queenie from there timelines.
Fuck you Kel'thezad, bljust fucking fuck you.
This is some Chtullu Bloodbourne hybrid of ELDRITCH TRUTH
Still though it made me feel *omniously do a sign of my religion* to the whole scene of Taylor controling her...can we have a PoV on her in the next chapter please
Sciscitatia 3.1
- Location
- United States, Texas
Grey AN: Time for relaxation and development. Maybe.
Sneaky AN: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
This massive delay was brought to you by Activision-Blizzard and the loss of interest Grey and I had in the world(of warcraft). The lore bits that dribbled in over this time made me put off pushing for this chapter's completion because this next arc will kinda be getting deeper into magic. And wowee there was a lot of useful lore that blizzard dropped that just happened to parallel with lore we made before we even post the first chapter.
Grey AN: Delay brought about as well due to medical issues resulting in mass loss of energy on my part. It is not yet addressed.
Sneaky AN: looking back on it we realized that Taylor once again is somehow disrobed.
Grey AN: Goddamnit.
[Wraith's Vanguard - Crystalsong]
The Barrows were even more labyrinthine than when I had left them… which was frankly impressive as I'd been gone maybe a day at most dealing with Wyrmrest. At least… it felt like a day, who could truly say? My sense of time had been thoroughly crushed ever since I had awoken, and the only time I could tell days passed was when I was in the presence of mortals. Even more so now than the last time I'd been here. Regardless, I was absolutely certain that I'd be lost within minutes with the tunnels branching every which way without a guide. Thankfully, my Dryads knew these Barrows far better than I ever would, with them leading the way into the depths for me and Alexstrasza.
And yet, after what felt like an hour of wandering through tunnels and caverns, we arrived at our destination, a moderately sized den containing a pool of water rimmed in rough stone. The space was enough that my group was able to fit comfortably inside, even with the pool dominating a majority of it.
The pool was… distinctly unmagical, even the stones that framed the pool were conspicuously absent of magic. My talent for sensing magic was rough at best, but everything so far has had magic in it… everything except what these Dryads had just created. Perhaps it was linked to them? I sighed, I had a feeling that unless I went full recluse I would never find an end to questions that needed answers about this world I found myself on. At least this one was particularly easy to answer. Hopefully.
I turned to one of the Dryads who was now looking at me hopefully and asked her, "The pool and stones, there is an absence of magic to them… Did you…?" I trailed off hoping that she would make assumptions and fill in the blanks for me, as I wasn't quite sure how to frame it, especially with Alexstaza boring a hole with her eyes into the back of my head. I now realized she would prove to complicate things further.
I stared down at my hand, or rather where my hand should have been. I already knew where that road went. Did I really-?
"Yes!" One of the Dryads exuberantly responded, prancing forward and gesticulating towards the pool. "We don't remember how to make a moonpool but scrubbing it of magic should make it easier, right, Savior?"
I scanned the gathered ethereal Dryads' gaze at me with earnest and trusting eyes. Why did they look at me like this? Reluctantly, I nodded my head and spoke as I thought, "Yes… I suppose it would… While I'm unsure of the native method of doing so, it is sensible to reduce outside interference…" Which was the best way I could fudge knowing what I was talking about.
The best I could determine was that Moonwater had to be created via Cosmic magic, specifically with the concept of Moonlight, as I hoped the name implied. I had some doubts now that was actually how it was created. As one would think with the symbolic nature tied to magic that a pool exposed to moonlight would be tied to the creation of a Moonpool yet it was underground… The Dryads put it here, yet claimed to not remember the process in detail… Dammit. I was running blind, the only souls Partner had eaten were of the cruel or edgy type, none of them were knowledgeable of any effective degree on this form of magic. I doubted many had true access to this branch of magic at all if the Priestess praying to me for it was any indication of their rudimentary understanding.
In literature, conceptual forces tended to be very exacting on how you went about utilizing them in certain situations while being very loose in others. I was unsure which Moonwater fell under, and how especially how my understanding would impact it. Would my modern understanding of reality, backed by Partner's incalculable time of existence in said space, be able to replace the likely faith-based source that the mortals on this planet used to create the Moonwells?
I considered the magic-less pool in front of me, acutely aware of the collective stares, most were hopeful and there was… a feeling of… amusement from Alexstraza? I shook it off and focused. The obvious first step in experimenting was simply bathing the pool of water with Lunar magic, at a low intensity and hoping that it would allow us to gain a better understanding of the interactions between the now magic-less water and trying to infuse Lunar magic into it by a sort of… magical osmosis? I had no illusions of nailing on my first try but I did hope it would give clues to the secrets of creating this 'Moonwater'. And so I held my arms in front of me and began channeling Lunar magic - my arm giving off a pale, whispy, ribbon-like, silver-white light as I did - and focused on what I planned to do. The first idea was simple: focusing on the water and forcing Lunar magic into the environment with the intent that it would combine into Moonwater.
Obviously, it didn't- Actually… that was having an effect on the water. I focused on the water and watched as it began changing color to a lighter blue and started to evaporate upwards, turning into some gaseous crystallization of Lunar Energy. While fascinating, that wasn't what I was going for, I wanted water infused with Lunar, not water evaporating into crystallized Lunar Energy, so I throttled my output and stopped trying to force as much Lunar magic into the water. That resulted in stopping the evaporation of the water into energy… but I noticed that it also allowed the water to start regaining its original color as I continued to feed magic into it, which meant that I was inputting too little Lunar into the water.
It wasn't working. As I quickly settled into maintaining a balancing act, outputting and pushing just enough into the water to make it turn but not too much that it started to evaporate. In the midst of this balancing act, I realized I was doing one thing wrong, I was focusing too much on the idea of the Moon and not on the purpose. What did the Dryads say? The Moonwater was of a purifying nature, so it was something to serve as a magical disinfectant and a distillate at the same time. With that in mind, I began to focus more on the purity and cleansing nature of Lunar spells. I watched with fascination as my arm's nature changed, sliding into a more ghostly, and pure, white with an internal radiance of its own.
The change was immediate. A glow began to build within the pool, and I was shocked as I suddenly had to output more magic in response to the pool rapidly sucking all I gave. Perhaps something was tied to the magic-less and pure nature of the water before I started that resonated with what I was trying to do now? Either way, it appeared I had stumbled my way into another discovery as the glow, and draw, built greater and greater - enough to make an actually noticeable void in my mana pool. I was worried once the drain started to significantly outpace whatever regeneration I had, but just as I was getting into an uncomfortable loss of mana, the pool was giving off a blinding radiance that prevented me from even seeing anymore. I could feel the pool was reaching some critical mass, and with one final injection-
Suddenly the pool stopped accepting my mana, and at the same time practically exploded with a wave of Purity. At first, I was wary but it didn't seem to be doing anything- I quickly threw up a shield of death around me as I felt the wave of Purity eat away at the already loose chains of Kel'Thuzad. Not yet, I'm not ready yet! I needed to keep the illusion of my allegiance going for at least a little longer. Once my Dryads had bodies, the fortifications were completed, the Camp completed…
I heard the screams and screeches behind me, from the Dryads and Dragon both, as I felt my bond to Alexstrasza change… mutate… Turning from a leash to a… to a… I flexed 'my' hands and looked at my back, marveling at the corona effect my Death wall had created in the blast wave. Turning the leash into something far more intimately familiar to me.
Finally, the wave ended leaving Alezstraza and me staring at each other in a mix of mute horror and fascination as the Dryads panted in the periphery.
Turning my attention to the pool I marveled at the result. I was left with a pool of water so clear it was as if the water wasn't even there, brimming with enough Moonlight to give off a haze that I could feel fill the air around us with Purity and Cleansing.
I let out a sigh and went over to the pool to inspect it more closely. In the corner of my eye, I saw one of my Dryads rush out excitedly, noticeably more clear and defined than previously. If I had to guess that she was off to tell the other Dryads about the finished Moonwell, possibly to investigate what else that blastwave may have altered, something I would have to do myself and soon.
I took a knee as I felt the immense drain and stared into the pool, it was the single most clear water I'd ever seen. To the point that if I hadn't known there was water and was unaware of the sheer magical Purity present, I'd have thought the pool completely empty with how translucent it was - completely void of reflections. It was… something that I took my time to marvel at… As I gazed at the pool a bubble of guilt built up within me. Ever since I had awoken in this new world I was a wrecking ball allowing itself to be bounced around like a ping-pong. I had personally seen to the deaths of hundreds to thousands. I had slaughtered whole villages for the sake of 'cover' and then turned their remains into a desecrated shambling army to attack the people who had come to stop my summoner.
Even before my stint as a villain or a hero I had used my powers to create. It felt like I was coming full circle looking at this newest creation of mine, the first genuine thing on this world that I had done that didn't require the deaths of others to craft.
I felt something inside me lift a little at the realization.
"What… what have you done…" And there went my small bit of happiness as I turned to Alexstrasza, the Dragon looking at me strangely before she continued. "This- this Well… This is no Moonwell- Nggghhh-'' Alexstaza clutched her head, a tremor of pain shared over our link, "What have you done to me?"
Shifting my eyes I focused on the now much more defined Dryads looking at me with silent awe. I waved my hand, "Go, investigate the settlement. Set up a watch, I'm sure we were not the only ones to feel that. Prepare for the rebirth."
A chorus of "Yes, Savior!" answered me as they turned and shot off to do as I said.
"What? Sending them off to not tarnish your image?" Alexstraza mocked.
I gave her an easy smile, "Or perhaps I wanted to multi-task, answer your questions and grant the Dryads new bodies as I had promised I would." I took a deep breath and let it out. "But I suppose I did want to keep this conversation between us."
I watched and felt as satisfaction, confusion, suspicion, and more confusion flashed across our bond and her face. "What did you do to me?" I could tell she was trying to be horrified yet it couldn't stick, in true classic Master fashion, even after she realized there was something wrong she couldn't figure out why it was wrong.
I gave her a sad smile, despite everything I had done in this life and the previous, I still wasn't fond of my Partner's unlocked power even if I had no other options. After all, "I wanted to eventually release you, you know." Again, a flurry of emotions flashed.
"Why…" Her face twisted, "Why can I not not believe you? I have faced such invasive methods of control before, why can't I…" She tried to snarl at me but lost it halfway, leaving her sounding only confused.
I snorted, "Because no one can do what I can. Does your right arm argue with you when you tell it to flex?"
Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth before I clamped it shut. "I am the dog" I said with Wraith's mouth, "And I am the tail." I said with Alexstraza's. I released my direct control and allowed her to act freely. Despite my claims of previous experience, this was new, even when I controlled people I wasn't exactly able to hold a conversation with them, disregarding the circumstances that had brought about that power.
Alexstraza closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she opened her eyes again and looked at me. "I am unsure what should unsettle me more. That I struggle to find that violating… Or that I struggle to feel unsettled by it."
I offered a wan smile, "If it's any consolation you are the first to have a level of free will under it, before it was all or nothing."
I received a dull glare in response. Fair enough, I suppose. It didn't stop Partner nudging me to ask questions but I felt I could put them off, for now, there would be plenty of time. But… I realized that I now had someone to talk to. Truly talk to without having to juggle expectations and image. A few words now couldn't do any harm…
I turned away from Alexstraza and soaked in the sight of this… this… "Earlier, you said this was no Moonwell?"
Alexstraza walked up to my side, willingly, and answered. "Yes, what you have done here I have not seen in the thousands of years I have lived. This is not a Moonwell… Despite their name, moonwells are not created via the Blessing of a God alone." She tilted her head at just the right time and angle, letting tresses of her scarlet hair slip forward, to watch me sputter and snap my own head to her in alarm.
I opened my mouth- "Purewell." But Alexstraza cut me off. Leaving my brain to play catch-up and when I opened my mouth again- "I believe that it, and any further ones you create should be called Purewells, without even trying I can feel its mere presence cleanse the air that I hadn't realized was cloying until now." She pinched her lips and frowned, "Which concerns me greatly."
Was it an overly creative name? No. Was it simple, clear, and sufficient? Yes. I narrowed my eyes at her. She smugged at me. I opened my mouth and waited a moment for her to cut me off. If anything she was reaching Lisa-levels of smugness and I felt an immediate, but brief, spike of worry for my future. "Purewell it is."
I let her earlier comment slide, but I wasn't going to let it lie for long even if I had to force it. And dammit she was preening! She absolutely was!
I opened my mouth- "You are aware you are by a definition of mortal standard, naked, yes?" The smug was back and it brought its friend - Schadenfreude.
I- What? I looked down. I regretted looking down. How did I keep ending up like this? Oh, right. I kept having my body blown apart. Right. At least I was more like a Barbie doll than ah, accurate. Small Mercies.
One thing at a time… First, fixing my clothing problem… again.
At this point, I was actively giving up on actual clothing surviving the future events that I was bound to go through unless they had some indestructible quality to them... But I doubted even that was enough given both times I'd lost my clothing, my body went with them, and I doubted even an indestructible enchantment or what-have-you would have managed to survive the spells I had unleashed and was subjected to. Supernovas, pure Death, giant fucking laser beams shot by giant fucking dragons…
Which left me with only one real option, making clothing out of magic itself. It wasn't a question of the possibility of doing so as proof stood right next to me.
Obviously, some alignments of magic would be better suited for it, Order, for one sounded the most sensible as I remember that was what Partner used to create my current body-shell. Only issue? I didn't know Order. I hadn't the time to even dip my toes in it, let alone the lesser version the mortals used, Arcane. Which sadly meant I couldn't ply Alexstrasza for her spell if it even was a spell, as it likely used principles and understandings that would take time to learn and incorporate into my grasp on magic, and thus wouldn't solve the immediate problem.
Fel was also just as obviously right out. Cosmic for similar reasons. In the end, I was left with the only real choice I had from the start, Death.
With my mindset, I readied myself. Magic was a balancing act between energy, will, and knowledge. At first, I relied on gifted knowledge and power, then I saw firsthand what happened when I added will. Partner herself said that my understanding of [DEATH] eclipsed hers. I gazed upon a literal well of power that proved I had power aplenty. And since the battle, I had certainly… felt more like myself. Like my old self. Like the girl that had looked the world in its eyes and defied them. Whatever hurdle reality threw at me that would prevent Death from being fashioned into clothes? I was ready.
Or, ah, well…
The only issue was I had no idea exactly what to shape the Death into… As alive or dead, I had never had an eye for civilian fashion and had focused more on practicality rather than aesthetics. But I like to think that even so, I had a quite good sense for it when I'd made my Cape costumes. Even if the creative choices I did make were… questionable in retrospect. With the refreshable nature of the clothes and my own natural… 'durability', practicality was not something I needed beyond the basics of any clothing. In essence, this resulted in the first time in my life I could literally create anything I wanted for an outfit with no regard for cost or efficiency but not having a single clue what to create.
After a few moments of deliberation… I gave up on trying to conjure an immediate and detailed outfit and just settled on letting whatever happened, happen. I had a loose idea what it would end up making anyway, the magic of this world seemed to have certain tendencies in visuals, and maybe if I nudged instead of guided it…
Yes, I think that would work best. Perhaps this time I could actually use the iconography associated with death to my advantage, waging a terror campaign ultimately worked against the Alliance landing in the tundra after all. So I need something more… ominous. Something more in line with my new name, Wraith. A cloak of some sort, dark and shadowy, something visually distinctive. Something to inspire fear. For underneath, I would need something simple that wouldn't get tangled when I have to resort to the more physical methods of dodging. Something less… robe-y. As fond as this world's mages seemed to be of robes, I rather set myself apart from them, if only a little. Perhaps a tunic? It was simple enough for my first attempt. I wasn't sure what to go with for my lower half. Robes and skirts were… Pants just didn't work with the image I was trying to portray, sadly.
Dammit, I was rusty. Nothing to it, I wasn't spending another moment here naked.
[Assistance]
My arm lit up with Death, as my missing arm turned into an ethereal bony hand as a wave of blackish-purple smoke billowed up from it quickly spreading up my arm and across my body, covering me in its embrace. For the most part, I simply nudged it slightly here and there with my will, maintaining that vague idea in my mind to try and prevent too much deviation, if one could call it that. I suppose at this point it should come as no surprise that the process was remarkably smooth, and then the outfit was complete.
I almost wished for a mirror before remembering that I had an extra set of eyes. I turned to Alexstrasza and gazed at Wraith through her. Tilting Wraith's body left and right, turning this way and that, we nodded in impressed satisfaction at the first attempt. Yet… Wraith smiled, 'I know you lent a hand, Partner, thank you.' The burst of positive feelings I received was warming.
When I asked for a cloak of Death, I got a Cloak of Death. Wraith was swaddled in it, it was so voluminous, yet when she moved it was light as air. It looked as if it was composed of thousands of strips of shadowy cloth, each independently shifting and rustling as I moved about. Interestingly, it emanated that same purple-black smoke that all my Death spells did, with a majority of it pooling around my feet.
Alexstrasza blinked in surprise and Wraith's head snapped up as we realized a major difference in perspective between the two of us. I had a hood as well, not having initially noticed it because, well, Cloak of Death and that Wraith's eyesight was entirely unimpeded but to Alexstrasza it looked as if I was wearing a solid black hood with a… fuzzy purple haze that if I hadn't been focusing on it almost made the eyes slide off it. As I made Alexstrasza focus on where my face would be I made out more details, like how my sleek silver hair pooled out from my hood. And how it was the only definable feature that could be made out from the pool of darkness that the shroud created. That and my eyes. They were like glowing purple embers, amplified from the loss of Light, and the only thing that Alexstrasza didn't have to strain to see.
I raised my arms and easily parted the swaddling cloak revealing, almost disappointingly - yet at the same time thankfully - a simple short sleeve tunic underneath, formed a deep purple cloth, it was easily swallowed by the shadows of my Cloak. Paired with, thankfully, pants. Tight, black, pants that looked, and felt, as smooth as silk, but still, pants. If my tunic nearly blended into the shadow, then my pants, and by extension legs, were all but hidden.
I smirked, 'Yes I can certainly work with this.' This was now the second thing I had officially created, and best of all, I felt that little nudge in the back of my mind that when I got exploded again I'd be able to call up my outfit far easier.
Alexstrasza and I marveled at my accomplishment but- "What- you- I see…"
I looked up and tilted my head, "What?"
She shook her head and gave a small, self-deprecating smile, "I have borne witness to many things in my long life, but never have I seen someone expend more mana on fashioning themselves clothes than some third-rate mages will spend in their entire mortal lives."
I... see… That felt… I closed my eyes and felt my magic, it definitely took a chunk of mana, but already it was refilling. And compared to what I'm used to, the well, the fights I've been in? I guess my estimation of 'normal' expenditure was… abnormal. What I wouldn't give for some clear hard numbers, and with how magic is… I don't even know what my expenditure actually is, between my growing understanding of magic itself, the various alignments of magic, and my aptitude for each… not to mention it certainly felt like I was working with a larger mana pool now as well, meaning any spell I cast would feel different barring everything else… Was this what Partner meant back then?
Still, a second, honest, viewpoint would help me a lot in gathering data about the magic of this place as clearly my standards and lens of information gathering were warped by my time here. I furrowed my brow and opened my mouth, "We should-"
One of the Dryads that left earlier chose that moment to prance back in, clutching in her hands a long, gnarled branch. There was something off about it from the second I laid my eyes on it. To start, it looked… shaped for lack of a better word, memories boiled up, scratching at the surface of my mind telling me this was much more than a simple branch. The length of it, shaped into a mostly straight staff, was twisted blackened Deadwood, thick but not enough to be unwieldy. At the 'top' of the staff was a… bulb? An opened knot? It was as if the knot in the wood had gnarled and then hollowed out.
I looked at the Dryad with a raised eye as she trotted closer to me, prompting an answer to my unasked question. "We saw that you didn't have a staff when you were here last Savior. And with you granting us new bodies, we all decided to give you a gift to convey our gratitude!" She held out the staff, which… I was unsure of its overall usefulness. My previous staff I used almost more like a polearm than a magical focus, and even then I didn't really require it to do what I did, it just felt… right. Yet… The fight with Malygos was a wake-up call, I was very quickly being taken seriously by everyone around me. I doubted I would have easy access to a ley-line the next time something happens, which meant I'd have to make every bit of mana worth it… I internally sighed, because according to Alexstraza I was so wasteful in my clothing spell that I spent more mana than some mages ever could doing it...
"Hold" Both the Dryad and I paused to look at Alexstrasza. She reached forward, and with a nod from me, the Dryad passed the staff to her. "Malygos may be my brother, but what he did to the world, what he did to the ley-lines…" She trailed off, her gaze solemn as she inspected the staff, "It would be remiss of me, even though I am no longer the Aspect of Life, to allow his madness to run free." Her hand began to glow a dark and rich mix of green and brown as she dragged her arm slowly up the staff, starting at its base. "Just the same, I had not believed that he would fall this far. I cannot force you, Master, but I must still ask. Please, put an end to my brother's insanity, and let his soul rest." Her hand finally reached the knot, and with that the glow emanating from it cut off, leaving the staff to pulse a single time with that same faint colored magic. She looked as sternly and as seriously as she could at me, I had a feeling that even if she was reduced to little more than a willful appendage, she would find a way to rebel if I answered poorly.
"Prove to me you are the Hero the Dragons and Dryads believe you to be."
She held the staff out to me. I clasped it without hesitation.
She was right, it was time to stop delaying, Kel'Thuzad was weak, his Necropoli destroyed, and his entire command staff wiped out. The mortal forces of Azeroth had landed and were ready to take the war to the Lich King, if there was ever a time to turn, it was now before I ended up in further conflicts with the locals.
I held the staff aloft for a moment to study it, before tapping it twice against the ground and nodding. A snort interrupted me, "Run your mana through it to attune it to yourself. It is not some stick for you just to wave around."
I blinked in surprise, 'So that was how they worked?' and then tried to follow her instructions. I extended some of my raw mana into the staff, almost letting go of it in surprise as it quickly slurped it up. I could only watch in fascination as I could visually see my magic run its way up the crevices of the twisted wood as if it was a cup being filled. When the twists met at the top of the staff, forming the hollowed-out knot I was again shocked as suddenly the 'petals' of wood creaked, groaned, and began slowly flexing as their inner faces took on the same deep brown-green mix of sheen as Alexstrasza's magic. The mote of Death that formed, floating inside the hollow as if it was caged in was only due to course at this point.
All in all, it was not only fitting for the image I wanted to project but there was something more to the staff. A… connection… I didn't have before. The sort of thing you didn't realize you were missing until you gain it. I shook my head, I would have time for that later.
"This is excellent." Looking from Alexstrasza and back down at the Dryad, I gave my best attempt at a smile and continued. "Thank you very much for this gift."
I turned my attention away from the first Dryad as a second pranced in and placed down a decrepit-looking acorn onto the ground. If an acorn was the size of a cantaloupe. Similar to my staff before in enchantment, it gave off a waft of Death… actually, no… I knelt and reached out to it with my hand-that-was-not and realized it was soaked in Death far more than my staff was. That observation had me stop completely for a few seconds, "This seed… Even as living as it is, is more Dead than alive." I frowned, the Dryads had said they needed to be soaked in Life to work… but I suppose as little more than spirits tethered to the world by my own Death magic, they were unable to suffuse it the way it needed to be done.
Alexstrasza strode up beside me and gazed down on the seed herself, as the two Dryads looked worriedly at each other. "We are sorry, Savior, this seed represents the best we managed, too many of them would spoil or not grow at all no matter how hard we tried." They hung their heads in shame, but I paid little attention to them, there wasn't anything I could say that would make it better. Instead, I looked to Alexstrasza, the previous Aspect of Life, and someone who had lived far longer than me, working the magics of this world. I didn't have to voice the question as she was already answering, "It's possible."
"Elaborate." The Dryads perked up, and I could tell in the periphery that a few more poked their heads out of the halls.
"In any other circumstance I would tell you it was impossible. Had you simply left me chained and forced me to work my magic it would have been like trying to wring blood from a stone." She leveled me with a cold gaze, it seemed she still wasn't pleased with me over that. Which was… fair enough. "Had you created a true Moonwell, it would have also been impossible. The ritual would fail immediately and reject the seed."
At this she turned and swept her hand out, gesturing at the Purewell. "But this Purewell? It is cleansing, it is refining. It orders reality around it to conform, washing away conflicting magics and smoothing the edges."
I looked away, smothering my guilt. The thought of Kel'Thuzad getting his hands on Alexstrasza… No, I had no choice. I flicked my eyes to the Dryads, noticing she was right. The fuzzier parts of their existence had lost their more crystal-like smudge and gained definition in what I suppose a Dryad looks like if they were not dead. Raking my eyes across the stone and dirt that composed the caver, and even the cut stone that formed the wall of the well, I noticed now that it was different. It just felt like… like Dirt and Stone now, like it had gained definition it didn't have previously.
"And this will work?" I questioned, even if it 'smoothed the edges' as she put it, that didn't mean suddenly that it would work.
Alexstrasza shrugged, "Possibly." She walked back over to me and picked up the seed, I stood as she cradled it in her arms. "I cannot speak for the other seeds, but this one…" She closed her eyes, and suddenly the seed glowed. Opening her eyes as the glow faded she said, "But this one will. All that is left is to bind a soul to the seed"
I see, I think I understood now where she was going with this. By binding the Dryads to the seed before we grew it we ensured no issues, and it would also likely provide a more permanent anchor to reality. Instead of just being a spirit possessing a husk, it would fall more in line with how I resurrected the Onslaught. That was far better than accidentally creating new life and having to force the Dryads to possess it, or just having spirits run around in husks which could lead to who knows what issues later.
Even if it was awful, I was glad to have done what I did to Alexstrasza, if it means not making mistakes that could hurt others.
I motioned for one of the Dryads to come forward as those that were hiding had given up all pretense and just crowded at the entrance. The one who originally carried the seed and the one who carried the staff, having some private conversation between themselves.
Finally, one of them, the seed-bearer, stepped forward. "I will do it. It was my seed, I will test it, but I trust you, Life-binder, Savior, if you say it will work, then I have faith."
Alexstrasza smiled and nodded, "Of course, little one, thank you. Now, step forward." She turned to me, "Now, Master, if you would?"
I startled if only for a moment before striding forward and closing my eyes. Of course, I would have to be the one to do it, For symbolic reasons, for practical reasons, and likely for skill reasons too. I had after all the most practice when it came to binding spirits. I was the reason this whole mess was the way it was. I was the leader.
But this wasn't as simple as I had done before, as before I wasn't gentle or subtle about how I handled those spirits having relied more on mysticism and brute force to get the result I wanted. This was… this was more than that. This wasn't binding unruly spirits to my control, this wasn't something that could be forced… The Dryads had done nothing to me, they had gone above and beyond trying to 'help' me. One good turn deserved another, so I was going to do this right.
And speaking of doing right by them, I had to get into the right mindset. So I took a deep breath and began to think about what exactly I wanted to happen. The first step would be to dissect the process of how it was supposed to go and then try and adapt it. Step one, a seed would be cultivated. In this seed was concentrated life energy, molded by the Druids or others to form into the Dryad. From there Moonwell water was used as a catalytic… to what I believed was simply accelerating a natural process. After all, on Bet, there were plenty of legends about dryads and how they would form naturally in areas of dense nature. Even if in this world the fantasy tropes and creatures were a bit twisted from their origins, they had stayed true for the most part.
Alexstrasza had said I would never have been able to make a Moonwell 'through the Blessing of a God alone', and while there was a lot to unpack with that statement… that meant there was more in the process than just a ridiculous amount of mana being focused in a specific way. But… What if the purpose was to accelerate the growth? If that was the case… I didn't need it and I didn't need to replicate any part of that stage, I already had fully grown spirits of Dryads.
That meant the seed was the key, in theory, it was the cluster of metaphorical stem cells that would turn into the creature it was guided into being. Guided by the spiritual blueprint the Dryads already were… It didn't have to be perfect, but it had to carry purpose. Alexstrasza fell under my control with the Purewell explosion because while the chains I had forced into her soul were not native to her, they carried such a clarity of purpose that in her own words it was 'smoothed' into her.
Purpose…
Inside this seed was a spark of Life, covered in a heavy blanket of Death, but it matched the Dryad in its nature. For they were naught but kernels of Life shrouded in Death, holding on to the world without a physical form. They would pair nicely with the soulless seed.
A spirit to guide and shape, as the druids once did for them in life. An acorn to give an anchor to the free spirits. In a way, it reminded me of the Tao of the natural order, a physical body with a gateway of mind paired with a spirit with a connection to the physical. Eternally circling, one should not exist without the other.
I opened my eyes.
"Step forward and touch the seed, do not fight what happens." I commanded of her. As she nervously trotted forward and placed her hand on the seed, I contemplated whether to use my 'casting' arm or use my new staff. A gut feeling told me that what Alexstrasza did to the Deadwood was important, and if anything it could help me here.
I raised the staff and tilted it towards the seed and Dryad. "May you provide this seed with what it could never manifest, and may this seed restore that which you lost." 'There,' I nodded to myself, 'that was suitably deep for my audience,' and without further words I let loose a pulse of magic through my staff, fixing the image of what I wanted to happen in my mind with all my will.
The cracks and crevices of my staff dully glowed with a dark light as the mote in the center brightened, with the wood petal bending back a little and flaring their own light around it.
The Dryad burst with a shower of motes which were quickly consumed by the acorn. I was praying it worked as I hoped, to who I wasn't sure, but the nod from Alexstrasza made me lift my feet and trek to the Purewell.
I manifested a hand of Lunar energy and dipped it into the water. The well didn't so much as a ripple from my intrusion into it, staying perfectly and unnaturally clear as I collected a handful of Purewater from its depths, little waterfalls cascading back as my hand rose back up. Turning to the acorn that Alexstrasza now placed on the ground, I knelt down and carefully let the Purewater dribble onto it.
The reaction was immediate, and I scrambled up and away to avoid potentially messing anything up and to give the acorn room to grow. Shimmering and… the best I could describe, magically rippling, the moment the Purewater hit it, the seed rapidly expanded and grew, and quickly the shape of a Dryad revealed itself, bark melding into two distinct pieces of flesh while plantlife grew across the body. It was what I imagined of a Dryad… except for the coloration of it.
Its lower half, instead of having brown fur as I expected of a deer, had black fur with a few grey markings scattered about randomly. The upper, 'human', half was pale and corpse-like, with its blue-green hair cascading down its back and covering part of its face, eyes closed behind the plant-like curtain. Within its hair were several strange-looking flowers, standing out in contrast with deep, vibrant purple petals curling outward.
I gazed at the unmoving Dryad worriedly. I was on a roll today and I would really not want this to be where I made my mistake. Thankfully, after a few seconds, the body started moving - stretching its arms out as if it had just woken up, lifting its legs, and letting out a yawn. As she opened her eyes, soft ice-blue iris that glowed gently, she let out a radiant smile and giggled happily, before immediately bounding up to me and wrapping me in a hug.
"Thank you Savior! Thank you!"
Having expected the reaction, I didn't freeze up and instead gave a one-armed hug back, somewhat awkward given I was still holding my staff in that hand, and my other hand being what it was. After a reasonable amount of time, I pushed her gently away, the newly born… Was this even a Dryad anymore? Especially considering it felt more like Death than Life? That… was a question for later. Probably best to hold off on the deep philosophical existential questions for as long as I could put it off.
Regardless, after eventually getting out of the hug, I sent her off to get the other seeds the Dryads had made, with instructions to work with Alexstrasza to suss out the most salvageable. While I doubted that there would be any real issues going forward, considering the neo-Dryad knew how to cultivate the 'correct' seed now and had the body to make it stick, or at least that was my hope. With that issue handled I could go off to check on my oth- "Savior!"
… Of course, I couldn't be done just yet.
Turning to the tunnel, along with every other individual, I saw a panicking Dryad come barreling into the cave, instantly making me tense at whatever had caused her to panic. Not once had I seen any of them panic, become angry certainly, but never panic in this way before, and it meant that whatever spooked her was serious. "The Satyr! Something terrible has happened to it!"
… Oh. That said a lot.
From day one, no, from second one, I had quickly understood that the Dryads and Satyrs hated one another and nothing would change that. For a Dryad to be scared over something happening to a Satyr, that implied whatever happened was extreme and needed my attention immediately.
"You have your orders! See to them, I will handle this" I snapped at everyone. I had to get them moving and keep their minds off of whatever was going on.
The den erupted into a flurry of activity as I left, Dryads getting ready to create more acorns for themselves, which hopefully would be a simple affair now. My pace following the panicked Dryad was far quicker, given that the two of us rushed through the tunnels to wherever the Satyr was in the labyrinthine Barrows, magic filling my body and reinforcing it so I wouldn't lose sight of my guide. Eventually passing int-
Good God! Something fuzzed in the corners of my vision as I looked at the creature before me.
For what met my sight was something born out of Bonesaw's madness. Thick, bloated 'flesh' strained as it kept waxing and waning, crystals pushing out and rupturing said 'flesh' in a manner that would kill a normal creature, but only served to inflict pain on the monstrosity. Massive hands leaking arcane radiance cradled its face, two prismatic horns cracking, breaking, and reforming constantly under a haze of purple and some malign influence. The center of its chest was gone, replaced with a gaping hole in which sat a single green crystal completely still compared to the roiling 'flesh' surrounding it. Green lighting crackling around it, with each 'strike' inside the former chest cavity causing a convulsion.
I stood in silent shock at what had become of the Satyr, for what else could it have been here in the heart of my territory? It was only when it turned to me, uncovering its face with one hand and slamming it down into the earth that I was lifted from my shock, its voice deep and low and it painfully sounded over the noise its body was making. "Hurts… Make… Stop…"
I… understood why the Dryad came running immediately now.
There was too much I didn't know about… everything surrounding this situation. I could make a guess that it was related to my Purewell, the timing of this and my creation of it was too close for it to be anything else. The questions were how and why it happened, which was something I could only speculate about right now. How many forms of magic were locked inside the Satyrs' bodies? If this was what happened when too many types of magic were added to the mix and 'smoothed'...
Despite 'knowing' that it was almost certainly because of my Purewell… There was too much unknown for me to try and 'fix' whatever had happened to the Satyr, not even mentioning that I had no idea where to even start to try and fix it if I even could. The best choice to deal with this lies in minimizing and alleviating the problem. Seeing as the only cause could be the Purewell… I had no idea what to do. Would moving him away work? Or should I keep him near it until the process stops?
I tsked, I needed the data more than I needed any loyalty from the Satyrs. To be honest, it was possibly the best group it could happen to, as now I can learn from it without having to inflict it on someone on purpose.
I quickly brought forth my chains, binding his arms down to the ground. I followed that up with more chains wrapping around the rest of his body. Whatever is going on, I can study later.
… Just another task on an ever-growing list.
I sighed, for now though, I had two other places to inspect and ensure that everything was running smoothly. Knowing my luck, I would get some task right after I finished at the Harbor, and I'd be stuck doing something I had to do, or else I'd get my soul ripped out. Letting out a sigh, I opened another Death Gate to my Port and stepped through.
[Violet Citadel - Rhonin]
"-nd that is why I believe an expedition to discover the source of the anomalies would benefit us in the long run." Aethas took a step back, letting us ponder the argument he'd made and the possible benefits and repercussions it could have.
His plan had merits to it, as he normally did and why both I and Modera trusted his judgment with such matters. In spite of his young age, by elven standards, and lack of experience his humble and optimistic attitude marked him as a different point of view from most of us. And while I was convinced, it was in line with the reasoning of us even bringing the city to Northrend in the first place, after all. The other three on the council though, were skeptical, and it would take some time, yet all that was necessary for a scouting expedition was convincing a single one of the three to go with Aethas' idea.
It was Ansirem who spoke first in the wake of Aethas, the only member still absent from Dalaran, dealing with lingering issues before he would return to help with the war against the Scourge. "I can understand the wish to uncover the source of these anomalies, as they may be hostile or detrimental to the safety of Dalaran. However, it should not come at the cost of fortifying the city against Blue Dragons, Scourge Assault, or whatever caused the arcane fluctuations we felt days ago."
Trust Ansirem to worry about Dalaran's protection despite having not set foot in the city for over a decade. I suppose that while the man may not have due to the memories associated with its fall and 'his' failures then… but I did not doubt he would protect it until his last breath through his own methods. Last I had heard, he was back at the Crater ensuring neither the Ogres nor Scourge tried anything, and while his mages and the men and women of Southshore were being pushed back, they were not faltering in the slightest.
It would be a great boon if he could return to the city, his strategic mind was always one of the greatest in Dalaran. Alas. I sighed.
If Aethas or Modera could convince him that it was worth the manpower to research the anomaly, either to harness or protect against whatever it was, he would undoubtedly vote in favor. The difficulty lay in convincing him that such an expenditure was necessary or worthwhile. Modera could possibly do so given time, the two had known one another and seen eye-to-eye for the better part of five decades now, but I knew it was more likely to get support from Jaina or Vargoth than rely on Ansirem agreeing in a timely manner. Especially since the man was not here, he did not feel what we all felt.
I turned my eyes to Vargoth, he had spent decades in Outland, including a year locked up in his tower there from what the Adventurers who rescued him had said. Vargoth himself had said he was going to recuperate from the experience for a long period when he returned to Dalaran. Even now he only appeared as a projection to this meeting despite being in a nearby tower. His vote was likely tied to whatever would allow him to not participate, be held responsible, or be put in charge of anything. A pity, but predictable and understandable. I shuddered at the thought of facing such a fate myself.
Unlike the other two, Jaina was much easier, yet more difficult, to win over. For as much as she had good intentions - that I agreed with - she was far too inexperienced, and her attempts at peace, while for the better, were unsuited for the current day. Especially when the atrocities of both sides were clear in everyone's memories. It would be better if she focused more on the now, even more so with our nation being on the doorstep of the Scourge and in spitting range of an unstable Aspect of Magic. I rubbed my chin in thought, I suppose it would be easy to acquire her support for the reconnaissance by mentioning that the expedition could be handled by the Sunreavers and a contingent of Kirin Tor mages, a perfect way to appeal to her attempts for reconciliation.
"I can spare a few of my apprentices from the effort, Ansirem. We don't have access to the ward schemes, regardless, so we're milling about restless. The way I see it, this will help keep magical accidents caused via boredom down, and we learn about these anomalies and any possible issues that could arise from them."
"Or, you could make everything worse with your prodding, causing a repeat of whatever caused the fluctuations in the first place." Vereesa was blunt and straight to the point, ribbing me and rolling her eyes all the while, but she raised a valid concern. While most mages on a whole were perfectly fine when presented with an entirely new frontier to explore and countless anomalies…
It didn't help that the Sunreavers were proposing to lead the expedition. Aside from myself and Modera, no one else was comfortable with the Sunreavers being in the city, especially with how they had sequestered themselves into an enclave and were not inclined to leave it. Vereesa was quite… hostile… with me when the vote to let them in passed, and while I was eventually forgiven, she was still very antagonistic against them due to past transgressions.
I sighed but smiled all the same. Vereesa… Normally someone outside the Council wouldn't be in one of these meetings, but the Silver Covenant she had formed was a potent power bloc, regardless of the fact that they had technically no political sway in Dalaran. Yet, representatives of the various blocs were occasionally invited to give input on certain matters. As such, her being here was more courtesy than anything, as she didn't have a vote, and could only advise or state her opinions about matters. Only a fool would dismiss a Ranger-General's, and a Hero of the Alliance who'd lived through two of the Great Wars, advice without good reason.
It was unfortunate that rising in the ranks of arcana mastery went part and parcel with a certain level of pride and stubbornness.
I had barely contributed to the actual merits of the plan throughout the entire proceeding as I didn't trust myself enough to speak without immediately siding with Aethas, and as the nominal Leader, I needed to at least pretend to be impartial until the end. I don't know how Antonidas managed to do it, but it took far more effort than it should have to be 'The Leader of the Kirin Tor'.
It was so much easier when I was just Rhonin, but duty meant I needed to step up, and I did so without complaint.
Modera stepped up to reply, and it was only seeing the gleam in her eye that let me know everything was going as she wanted it to. "If such is the case, the Silver Covenant can escort the Sunreavers to the anomaly. I can also spare some of my mages to oversee the two to prevent any issues from occurring, I'm sure I can find a couple that are getting as restless as Rhonin's boys." She pointedly smiled benignly at Vereesa, my wife holding a scowl on her face at the expression but nodding reluctantly.
'What could she say to that?' I thought with a wry smile, we were all played even if it was in good intent.
Well, it was time to call the vote, I spoke up, "Those in favor of the expedition to uncover the anomaly?" I raised my hand, as did all but Vargoth… who was slumped over and softly snoring. I suppose that Outland had truly mentally drained the man if he fell asleep during a Council meeting, though I was impressed that his image was both intact and coherent despite this. "The motion is passed. Aethas, Vereesa, Morena. Prepare your people and supplies and meet at Krasus's Landing when ready."
I was met by nods from the three mentioned as I ended the meeting. "Meeting adjourned." With that Modera blinked out, followed shortly by Vargoth and Ansirem's images. Jaina gave me a grateful nod before she teleported away. I knew we were busy but honestly, I sighed, it would be nice if we could actually stick around post meeting. Just have some casual conversation for once, the chances to do so were so rare these days, after all…
It was then I noticed that Aethas had made no move to leave just yet, and was instead walking towards us and giving a bow. "Thank you for the opportunity, Rhonin. I guarantee you that I'll have the anomaly dealt with one way or another by the time we get back. If we ignore too many of these 'small matters' I fear we will find ourselves buried." Aethas' tone was lighthearted, but I knew he meant every word he said. It may have been an impulse decision to let him in after only two meetings with him, but my gut said Aethas was trustworthy and it hadn't steered me wrong yet.
I cracked a smile and chuckled, my tone just as lighthearted despite the words. "Just make sure you all come back safe and sound. We need every man and woman to fight the Scourge. And be sure to burn the ones that don't." I clapped the elf on the shoulder before turning to Vereesa, my wife… making no attempt to hide her disgust of the Blood Elf by not even looking at him. "And that goes double for you Vereesa."
She smirked as Aethas turned away and left, but it was gone the moment he was away and I had to sigh. "Vereesa. Don't antagonize him, don't take any risks, and if something feels wrong get everyone out of there." She made to speak, her eyes narrowing before I acted on impulse and surged forward to wrap her in a hug. "Come back safe and sound. For me, for Arator, for Giramar and Galadin. Just promise you'll come back."
She didn't say anything at first, arms snaking around me as she chuckled. "You worry too much. I'll be fine, Rhonin." I didn't say anything in response, just giving her a quick kiss and smile as we separated, Vereesa heading off to perform her preparations for the coming expeditions.
I meanwhile, needed to focus on the necessary preparations to bring in Adventurers, Alliance, and Horde forces, a thankless task that most took for granted. Portals, accommodations, supplies, services, and shops… the list was endless, and all of them needed to be organized in only a few days. It was a blessing I could delegate the majority of this to others, but a vast majority I had to do on my own to ensure it wouldn't cause issues between any two groups.
Sometimes I wished I could say no to duty.
[Somewhere within the Crystalsong Forest - Vereesa]
"Truly remarkable… Arcane suffuses the entirety of the material, yet it doesn't break easily…"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as the Sunreaver continued to ramble about the material, keeping my eyes on both the Sunreavers leading the expedition and the forest itself for trouble. The rest of my rangers kept a similar focus, moving through the brush surrounding the mages, eyes peeled for the slightest movement through the trees.
It'd been hours now since they started preparations for the expedition, meanwhile my rangers and I were ready in twenty minutes. Of course, the Sin'dorei needed even more time than the Quel'dorei to get ready, likely to indulge their addictions before setting off into the unknown. I'd have set off on the expedition with proper Kirin Tor mages well before they had a chance to arrive had Rhonin not been there at Krasus' Landing. Ultimately, despite the Sin'dorei's failings, I grudgingly acquiesced to my husband's desire for better relations.
Though I would keep an eye on them the entire time, their nature made them untrustworthy.
Looking around while tuning out the excited mages as they continued studying the 'tree', I leaned against the tree trunk I was using as a vantage point, resisting the urge to keep an arrow nocked and ready. Unease was creeping around me, and I could tell some of my rangers were feeling the same, given their bows at the ready, some nocked and ready for a fight, not that I blamed them.
This forest was unnatural.
No sound of bird call, no wind rustling the leaves, no animals seen even once in the hours we'd been traveling, the only thing 'living' beyond the trees themselves was a treant just... wandering. Not a single deer or mouse, bear or wolf, just trees. And after the first sign of something strange occurring in this forest, there was… that 'tree', that defied what it was supposed to be.
The mages were recording everything they could about it, but I doubted even an Ogre… well, maybe an Ogre Magi, would miss that it was completely saturated in arcane energies so much so it had quite literally crystallized. If this was even an inkling of what lay further in the forest… it would be better to end the expedition here, before the Sin'dorei could mess it up. There was no telling what arcane monstrosities inhabited these woods, and with the concentration of mages here, it would be a beacon for said monstrosities to come down on their heads.
I refrained from showing anything outwardly as I dropped to the forest floor, shooting a glance and nod to the ranger running to take my place as I walked towards Sunreaver and his assistant. Out of the Sin'dorei that had journeyed to Dalaran from Quel'thalas, Sunreaver was among the more noble and less arrogant of the bunch, something his followers could take lessons from. Not that it stopped me from treating him like the rest of his kind, especially with how Prince Sunstrider was prior to the Third War.
"Sunreaver."
He grunted at me still in a haze of focused concentration, his gaze fixated on the bark of that tree as if it held secrets long buried, despite being bark. "It's unique in a way that defies the natural order of things." Like I cared, but I remained courteous and stayed silent as he looked up at me and handed the piece to his assistant, who hurriedly put it in a bag at his side. "Is something wrong Ranger-General?"
"It's too quiet."
As a ranger that grew up in the Eversong outside of the city's walls, the lack of noise in a forest was never a good sign. From a Troll raiding party to a particularly massive wolf that took seven Rangers to take down, quiet moments in a forest always held ominous intentions. I was prepared for a quiet dismissal from Sunreaver, to leave him alone as he and his researched the frankly stupid tree.
What I got was his full attention before he crossed his arms and gave another hum of thought. "This arcane energy is unnatural, I wouldn't be surprised if whatever caused it was behind the silence. If even the local, and quite sturdy, flora was affected the fauna is no doubt dead or twisted." He was silent for a moment longer before turning to the still working mages, running scrying tests and other nonsense on the 'wood' they had broken off. "I won't risk my peoples' lives needlessly. We'll finish up and head back to Dalaran as quickly as possible." I didn't let my surprise show, just nodding in reply and turning around to move ba-
I barely ducked under the projectile that nearly took my eye.
In the span of a second an arrow was nocked, in another Sunreaver had his staff in hand and a fireball in his hand. I heard scrambling around me, but I paid it no mind as I scanned through the trees looking for the source of the projectile, moving quickly to a tree to put myself out of their sight. Catching a flash of white in the distance, I drew and fired into the trees without hesitation where it would be… to seemingly no effect as the blur kept moving before simply vanishing.
"Gather what you have! We are leaving!"
Near immediately after Sunreaver's order a hail of arrows came flying from every direction surrounding the expedition. My Rangers and I dodged the arrows with ease, reflexes, and skills honed over the years triumphing over whatever foe we faced. The mages were a different matter, as only most of them managed to avoid the arrows coming at them or block them with a conjured shield of magic. The unlucky few however were pierced by the arrows, a few apprentices and a battlemage who had an arrow pierce his shield, but thankfully none of them were fatal or debilitating. What took me by surprise was the nature of the arrows, namely that they were phantasmal.
"Shield Up! Shield Up!" The call went out as the arrows stopped, and in response the expedition started clustering together, eight of Sunreaver's apprentices starting to channel for a portal back as Modera's mages created a dome of arcane energy to encapsulate us. Rhonin's own apprentices scrambled around assisting where they could. While my Rangers and I could only sit there and grit our teeth as we desperately tried to find where our attackers were hiding. The shield had barely finished forming when the next volley came soaring in, only to bounce or shatter on the dome before dissipating. With the small breathing room enabled I scanned the forest for whatever was shooting at us and found nothing but the occasional blur moving between the trees that disappeared the moment I tried to focus on it.
Not wanting to be caught unprepared, I nocked an arrow and kept scanning the forest for the threat assailing us, meanwhile, Sunreaver went over to his apprentices who were struggling with making the portal. I paid only a slight amount of attention to him, my focus largely on finding whatever was attacking us. "What's taking so long? It shouldn't take this long to make a portal back to Dalaran."
"There is… interference of… some kind, Archmage." I clicked my tongue upon hearing the words. Typical, things had to be more difficult than they needed to be.
A third volley flew out, and while a few arrows managed to get through this time, they were thankfully diverted and disrupted by piercing the shield. Just like with the other two times, I saw nothing but a blur, something that was beginning to annoy me as I was forced to sit back and wait, a feeling that I could tell was shared by my Rangers with a single glance around.
Sunreaver cursed, "Damn it all! Get the portal up, Apprentices, we are counting on you."
I held my tongue in saying something, now was not the time.
As if to emphasize the point, a flash of green fire came hurtling from the forest, my eyes widening as the green flames of Fel registered before slamming into the shield with force if the cracking noises were anything to go by. It was only the first of several as the shield was bathed in Fel, flickering and fluctuating under the strain of holding back the demon magic, with several sections of the shield paradoxically, in true to the nature of Fel, coated in the flames. When the next volley came, the mages were visibly straining to hold up the shield, and while the arrows were still largely ineffective, they were getting closer to the mages holding the bubble together. Laughter from the trees flitted through the air, making my grip tighten at the harsh and grating sound. I couldn't make out whatever it was the laughter came from, but I didn't need to as they appeared from the forest to continue their gloating.
I, and my Rangers, didn't give them the chance and let loose our arrows.
Unlike the blurs before, the ones almost assuredly responsible for the volleys assailing the expedition, the… satyrs that came forward didn't react until several of them were pincushions for arcane-infused arrows. It was bizarre, almost like we had shot statues carved to look and act like satyrs, but our arrows nevertheless caused the demon-kin to retreat and cease their laughter, with the one I targeted losing his arm from a well-placed shot. Having cracked the stone-like body they were made of along some sort of fault line in the construction. While I'd hoped to kill the crystal-like satyrs and reduce the pressure on the mages preventing us from burning to death, I would settle for making them back off for the time being.
Our second volley was sent into the satyrs' backs just as a new threat emerged, and I had to make certain that my eyes weren't being deceived by demonic illusions by the sheer absurdity I was witnessing. A swarm of dryad ghosts came sprinting through the undergrowth towards us, hurling spears and darting between trees for cover. Under the hail of spears, arrows, and another round of felfire from the enraged satyrs, I doubted the shield would hold long, but refused to allow Dalaran to go unknowing or any of the mages to die on my watch.
As the arcane shell surrounding the expedition buckled and strained under the weight of projectiles, what few mages weren't holding the shield together added their spells to my Rangers' arrows, aimed solely at the dryads rushing us. Unlike the satyrs, the Dryads avoided a good portion of the attacks sent at them, and what little hit them didn't seem to faze them in the slightest, though my eyes did make out that they were affected by the arcane, fire, and frost sent at them.
Those 'wounds', however, were negligible.
That didn't stop the expedition from throwing everything at them. We could only pray that they'd have to retreat eventually under the brunt of the spells and arcane arrows sent at them, just as the Satyrs had done moments before. That thought withered as they kept moving forward, taking hit after hit without flinching with only a handful of them stopping and turning around with a parting spear thrown. Weathering the hail of projectiles we sent at them, they reached the shield and took to stabbing the barrier with their glowing spears, which when coupled with the lingering felfire caused the barrier to finally fail.
Our only solace was the wave of fire from Sunreaver that sent the Dryads fleeing instead of continuing their charge.
With the barrier destroyed, the arrows coming from the trees had free reign to pepper us, and while my Rangers and I had no issue dodging them, the mages that had been maintaining the barrier were in no condition to even move. Quickly deployed bubbles by the mages that hadn't been maintaining the dome managed to shield from several of the arrows, alas, a number managed to find their targets.
My instincts again saved me as I dropped and rolled backward, something sailing over me that was decidedly not an arrow.
Quickly looking up, I finally saw what had been firing the arrows at us for the past several minutes - another ghostly figure, likely a night elf riding a similarly spectral feline. My eyes widened as it completely bypassed the Rangers and mages that were turning to it, instead heading straight at one of the injured and exhausted battlemages. The mage was promptly snatched by the jaws of the beast and dragged screaming into the forest and out of sight, well before anyone could react or do anything to stop it.
I sprung back to my feet and called out to my Rangers with orders. "Constrict! Circle! Protect the Mages!" Just as I finished and nocked an arrow, I saw another spectral elf racing through the forest, not even bothering to remain hidden as it barreled forth. Drawing my arrow back, I barely bothered aiming as I let loose, the reckless abandon it was moving with would see that the arrow hit. As my arrow sped true, right before it struck the spectral elf another projectile, filled with a pale light that gleamed in the shade, struck my arrow.
I had not even a second to react, barely even comprehending what had happened as the two impacted one another, releasing their stored magics in a violent flash of light and sound that left me blinded and deafened.
Stumbling backward, my sense of balance thrown into disarray, unable to find steady footing, blinking as the sounds of combat echoed and distorted around me. Blurred shapes moved in my vision, jerkily stumbling about like myself, some falling to the ground while others managed to stay upright. My eyes started clearing, alternating between blinking and squeezing my eyes shut as the spots that danced across my vision disappeared and the blurs redefined themselves, letting me see again.
It was chaos. Our defensive line has been shattered by what happened, rangers and mages stumbled around, few finding their bearings in time to resist. More of those spectral elves were blitzing forward on their mounts, the flash having let them approach without taking any fire. I counted four of them that showed themselves, alongside another elf without a mount that walked with an ethereal air around them. Before I could focus on them further, a wave of heat slammed into my back, making me whirl around in a panic.
What I found was Sunreaver encompassed in flames, the sheer heat burning the grass and leaves around him to cinders, channeling his magic into some spell. "By the Firelands be purged, specters of the Scourge!" With a grandiose gesture, the flames leapt forth, growing and spreading out into the form of a massive elemental as it billowed towards the ghosts with a roar. I watched it from the sidelines for a moment before turning back to Sunreaver and running over.
The closer I came to him the more the heat became overbearing, the heat wafting off of him was enough that I couldn't get too near as the air itself burned me. Any words of praise died in my throat, his armor had turned molten, and I could only watch in horror as liquid metal sloughed off dripping onto the ground while what remained of his tabard and clothes were naught but a crumbling pile of ashes. As he dropped to his knees, the Eye of Dalaran he wore with pride before his helm flickered out, just as his helm spilled off and revealed the burned and blackened skin lined with erratic red-white lines beneath.
The Arcane-addled fool had gone beyond his limits and overchanneled his mana, crippling himself in the process.
Tightening my grip on my bow, I called out to two of Rhonin's apprentices nearby and made a snap decision. "You two! Grab Sunreaver and get him out of here!" I waited long enough to see them acknowledge the order, casting a ward over themselves to get through the heat and flames to grab Sunreaver and carry him towards his own apprentices, before turning my attention back to the ghosts and rampaging elemental.
Just as I focused my attention on them, I felt the rush of arcane magic signifying the portal's completion behind me. I didn't need to give an order, the portal opening was a signal all its own to let the expedition know that it was time to leave. As disciplined as the mages and my Rangers protecting them were, at that moment the idea of an organized retreat didn't exist as they all wanted to escape this sudden hell we found ourselves in. A few brave souls stood their ground with me and kept the ghosts at bay, slinging spells and loosing arrows to deter the spectral elves from abducting more of our kin. With our frenzy of a second wind, we managed to keep them at bay, too busy dodging the close range deluge of magic and arrow to press us more. The raging elemental in their ranks certainly did them no favors.
But our numbers were too disparate to hold them for long, as eventually our mages tired and my Rangers ran low on arrows. The boldest of the ghosts darted forward in our weakness, delivering debilitating strikes to those that remained. Their comrades nearby rushed to their sides and picked them up to limp towards the portal, but with each mage or ranger that fell or retreated, they advanced more, caused more wounds, and forced more to fall back.
Of course, that was when the elemental disappeared in an immense blinding flash of pale light that slammed down from the sky.
There was no time to stand and gawk at the display of magic and power that completely invalidated Sunreaver's sacrifice, as the elves redoubled their efforts to take us down, shooting at the apprentices holding together the portal back to Dalaran. As the dust settled, I witnessed the elf on foot walk through the lingering cloud serenely, utterly at peace despite destroying the elemental with what seemed to be no effort. A split-second decision was made, and without hesitation I gave my order, spinning on my heel as I did. "Everyone, fall back now!!"
A measured retreat, no matter how disorganized, was no longer an option.
What remained of the rear guard fell back rapidly, though with the ghosts peppering us it was a hazardous affair and more than one fell with an arrow to the leg. I didn't know why they aimed for crippling shots instead of simply going for the kill, but I couldn't question it-
A stab of pain lanced up my leg, making me stumble to the ground. Looking down, I saw a faintly glowing, ghastly arrow embedded right below my knee. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself up and tried to move, only for another bout of pain to rise up. Flipping around on my one good leg, I faced the ghost whose bow was lowered to the side, still walking at a leisurely pace, as if she was merely taking a stroll through a garden instead of a battlefield.
"Ranger-General!"
"Get through that portal and close it!" My tone brokered no argument, even as my decision weighed heavy on me. I knew what the end result of my choice was, but I would not damn another person to try and help me, nor would I consign those that remained to a foolish rescue attempt. No, it was better to get as many out as possible, and I'd hold them back as long as I could.
I drew an arrow back and fired it straight at the ghost, only for her to sidestep it with ease, followed by the second arrow I sent her way as well. I heard humming fill the air, but paid it no mind as I focused on the ghost… watching as she put her bow onto her back and pulled out two curved swords. Try as I did, using every ounce of skill that I'd honed since becoming a Ranger… I never got close to wounding her.
Unceasingly, the ghostly elf walked, and every arrow I sent was batted away with contemptuous ease by one of the two swords. It reached the point where I had no arrows left, achieving nothing with them throughout her walking forward, and I was left to toss my bow aside and draw a sword that was more ceremonial than practical. But I held no hope that it would change anything. I was more used to archery, and had neglected swordsmanship in the years since my days with Rhonin's 'adventuring'.
I held my sword at the ready, knowing it would only delay the inevitable but defiant nonetheless in the face of my mysterious fate. The face of the ghost was serene and relaxed as she had closed enough for me to see, a small and gentle smile adorning her that sent chills down my spine. I attempted with the last dregs of my strength to strike her down.
One moment I was holding my sword, the next it was sailing through the air out of my grip, a giggle came from the ghost as I fumbled onto my back. I hadn't even seen her move.
"Elune Adore."
She said those two words, and without a shred of mercy slammed her blades' pommels into the side of my head…
Galadin… Giramar… I'm sorry… for not coming…home…
Rhonin… forgive me… for breaking… that promise…
Everything faded away to the sound of a lullaby.
Grey AN: As of May 13th, 2022, I have graduated from college in totality. This means that my writing time will be cut quite heavily as I move out into the world proper and get a job. With that said, most of this chapter (3.2 and 3.3, yes we have three parts for this) is largely finished, with only a few parts left to fully make.
Sneaky: this clearly means that it will only take us a quarter of a year to update now! But no, real talk grey is looking for a job and while its not something he wants to ever rely on as writing is a hobby not a job, incentives never hurt.
Grey: A link to our discord is below. Should you have questions or such, you are far more likely to get a hold of me or Sneaky there than you are on this site.
Sneaky AN: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
This massive delay was brought to you by Activision-Blizzard and the loss of interest Grey and I had in the world(of warcraft). The lore bits that dribbled in over this time made me put off pushing for this chapter's completion because this next arc will kinda be getting deeper into magic. And wowee there was a lot of useful lore that blizzard dropped that just happened to parallel with lore we made before we even post the first chapter.
Grey AN: Delay brought about as well due to medical issues resulting in mass loss of energy on my part. It is not yet addressed.
Sneaky AN: looking back on it we realized that Taylor once again is somehow disrobed.
Grey AN: Goddamnit.
[Wraith's Vanguard - Crystalsong]
The Barrows were even more labyrinthine than when I had left them… which was frankly impressive as I'd been gone maybe a day at most dealing with Wyrmrest. At least… it felt like a day, who could truly say? My sense of time had been thoroughly crushed ever since I had awoken, and the only time I could tell days passed was when I was in the presence of mortals. Even more so now than the last time I'd been here. Regardless, I was absolutely certain that I'd be lost within minutes with the tunnels branching every which way without a guide. Thankfully, my Dryads knew these Barrows far better than I ever would, with them leading the way into the depths for me and Alexstrasza.
And yet, after what felt like an hour of wandering through tunnels and caverns, we arrived at our destination, a moderately sized den containing a pool of water rimmed in rough stone. The space was enough that my group was able to fit comfortably inside, even with the pool dominating a majority of it.
The pool was… distinctly unmagical, even the stones that framed the pool were conspicuously absent of magic. My talent for sensing magic was rough at best, but everything so far has had magic in it… everything except what these Dryads had just created. Perhaps it was linked to them? I sighed, I had a feeling that unless I went full recluse I would never find an end to questions that needed answers about this world I found myself on. At least this one was particularly easy to answer. Hopefully.
I turned to one of the Dryads who was now looking at me hopefully and asked her, "The pool and stones, there is an absence of magic to them… Did you…?" I trailed off hoping that she would make assumptions and fill in the blanks for me, as I wasn't quite sure how to frame it, especially with Alexstaza boring a hole with her eyes into the back of my head. I now realized she would prove to complicate things further.
I stared down at my hand, or rather where my hand should have been. I already knew where that road went. Did I really-?
"Yes!" One of the Dryads exuberantly responded, prancing forward and gesticulating towards the pool. "We don't remember how to make a moonpool but scrubbing it of magic should make it easier, right, Savior?"
I scanned the gathered ethereal Dryads' gaze at me with earnest and trusting eyes. Why did they look at me like this? Reluctantly, I nodded my head and spoke as I thought, "Yes… I suppose it would… While I'm unsure of the native method of doing so, it is sensible to reduce outside interference…" Which was the best way I could fudge knowing what I was talking about.
The best I could determine was that Moonwater had to be created via Cosmic magic, specifically with the concept of Moonlight, as I hoped the name implied. I had some doubts now that was actually how it was created. As one would think with the symbolic nature tied to magic that a pool exposed to moonlight would be tied to the creation of a Moonpool yet it was underground… The Dryads put it here, yet claimed to not remember the process in detail… Dammit. I was running blind, the only souls Partner had eaten were of the cruel or edgy type, none of them were knowledgeable of any effective degree on this form of magic. I doubted many had true access to this branch of magic at all if the Priestess praying to me for it was any indication of their rudimentary understanding.
In literature, conceptual forces tended to be very exacting on how you went about utilizing them in certain situations while being very loose in others. I was unsure which Moonwater fell under, and how especially how my understanding would impact it. Would my modern understanding of reality, backed by Partner's incalculable time of existence in said space, be able to replace the likely faith-based source that the mortals on this planet used to create the Moonwells?
I considered the magic-less pool in front of me, acutely aware of the collective stares, most were hopeful and there was… a feeling of… amusement from Alexstraza? I shook it off and focused. The obvious first step in experimenting was simply bathing the pool of water with Lunar magic, at a low intensity and hoping that it would allow us to gain a better understanding of the interactions between the now magic-less water and trying to infuse Lunar magic into it by a sort of… magical osmosis? I had no illusions of nailing on my first try but I did hope it would give clues to the secrets of creating this 'Moonwater'. And so I held my arms in front of me and began channeling Lunar magic - my arm giving off a pale, whispy, ribbon-like, silver-white light as I did - and focused on what I planned to do. The first idea was simple: focusing on the water and forcing Lunar magic into the environment with the intent that it would combine into Moonwater.
Obviously, it didn't- Actually… that was having an effect on the water. I focused on the water and watched as it began changing color to a lighter blue and started to evaporate upwards, turning into some gaseous crystallization of Lunar Energy. While fascinating, that wasn't what I was going for, I wanted water infused with Lunar, not water evaporating into crystallized Lunar Energy, so I throttled my output and stopped trying to force as much Lunar magic into the water. That resulted in stopping the evaporation of the water into energy… but I noticed that it also allowed the water to start regaining its original color as I continued to feed magic into it, which meant that I was inputting too little Lunar into the water.
It wasn't working. As I quickly settled into maintaining a balancing act, outputting and pushing just enough into the water to make it turn but not too much that it started to evaporate. In the midst of this balancing act, I realized I was doing one thing wrong, I was focusing too much on the idea of the Moon and not on the purpose. What did the Dryads say? The Moonwater was of a purifying nature, so it was something to serve as a magical disinfectant and a distillate at the same time. With that in mind, I began to focus more on the purity and cleansing nature of Lunar spells. I watched with fascination as my arm's nature changed, sliding into a more ghostly, and pure, white with an internal radiance of its own.
The change was immediate. A glow began to build within the pool, and I was shocked as I suddenly had to output more magic in response to the pool rapidly sucking all I gave. Perhaps something was tied to the magic-less and pure nature of the water before I started that resonated with what I was trying to do now? Either way, it appeared I had stumbled my way into another discovery as the glow, and draw, built greater and greater - enough to make an actually noticeable void in my mana pool. I was worried once the drain started to significantly outpace whatever regeneration I had, but just as I was getting into an uncomfortable loss of mana, the pool was giving off a blinding radiance that prevented me from even seeing anymore. I could feel the pool was reaching some critical mass, and with one final injection-
Suddenly the pool stopped accepting my mana, and at the same time practically exploded with a wave of Purity. At first, I was wary but it didn't seem to be doing anything- I quickly threw up a shield of death around me as I felt the wave of Purity eat away at the already loose chains of Kel'Thuzad. Not yet, I'm not ready yet! I needed to keep the illusion of my allegiance going for at least a little longer. Once my Dryads had bodies, the fortifications were completed, the Camp completed…
I heard the screams and screeches behind me, from the Dryads and Dragon both, as I felt my bond to Alexstrasza change… mutate… Turning from a leash to a… to a… I flexed 'my' hands and looked at my back, marveling at the corona effect my Death wall had created in the blast wave. Turning the leash into something far more intimately familiar to me.
Finally, the wave ended leaving Alezstraza and me staring at each other in a mix of mute horror and fascination as the Dryads panted in the periphery.
Turning my attention to the pool I marveled at the result. I was left with a pool of water so clear it was as if the water wasn't even there, brimming with enough Moonlight to give off a haze that I could feel fill the air around us with Purity and Cleansing.
I let out a sigh and went over to the pool to inspect it more closely. In the corner of my eye, I saw one of my Dryads rush out excitedly, noticeably more clear and defined than previously. If I had to guess that she was off to tell the other Dryads about the finished Moonwell, possibly to investigate what else that blastwave may have altered, something I would have to do myself and soon.
I took a knee as I felt the immense drain and stared into the pool, it was the single most clear water I'd ever seen. To the point that if I hadn't known there was water and was unaware of the sheer magical Purity present, I'd have thought the pool completely empty with how translucent it was - completely void of reflections. It was… something that I took my time to marvel at… As I gazed at the pool a bubble of guilt built up within me. Ever since I had awoken in this new world I was a wrecking ball allowing itself to be bounced around like a ping-pong. I had personally seen to the deaths of hundreds to thousands. I had slaughtered whole villages for the sake of 'cover' and then turned their remains into a desecrated shambling army to attack the people who had come to stop my summoner.
Even before my stint as a villain or a hero I had used my powers to create. It felt like I was coming full circle looking at this newest creation of mine, the first genuine thing on this world that I had done that didn't require the deaths of others to craft.
I felt something inside me lift a little at the realization.
"What… what have you done…" And there went my small bit of happiness as I turned to Alexstrasza, the Dragon looking at me strangely before she continued. "This- this Well… This is no Moonwell- Nggghhh-'' Alexstaza clutched her head, a tremor of pain shared over our link, "What have you done to me?"
Shifting my eyes I focused on the now much more defined Dryads looking at me with silent awe. I waved my hand, "Go, investigate the settlement. Set up a watch, I'm sure we were not the only ones to feel that. Prepare for the rebirth."
A chorus of "Yes, Savior!" answered me as they turned and shot off to do as I said.
"What? Sending them off to not tarnish your image?" Alexstraza mocked.
I gave her an easy smile, "Or perhaps I wanted to multi-task, answer your questions and grant the Dryads new bodies as I had promised I would." I took a deep breath and let it out. "But I suppose I did want to keep this conversation between us."
I watched and felt as satisfaction, confusion, suspicion, and more confusion flashed across our bond and her face. "What did you do to me?" I could tell she was trying to be horrified yet it couldn't stick, in true classic Master fashion, even after she realized there was something wrong she couldn't figure out why it was wrong.
I gave her a sad smile, despite everything I had done in this life and the previous, I still wasn't fond of my Partner's unlocked power even if I had no other options. After all, "I wanted to eventually release you, you know." Again, a flurry of emotions flashed.
"Why…" Her face twisted, "Why can I not not believe you? I have faced such invasive methods of control before, why can't I…" She tried to snarl at me but lost it halfway, leaving her sounding only confused.
I snorted, "Because no one can do what I can. Does your right arm argue with you when you tell it to flex?"
Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth before I clamped it shut. "I am the dog" I said with Wraith's mouth, "And I am the tail." I said with Alexstraza's. I released my direct control and allowed her to act freely. Despite my claims of previous experience, this was new, even when I controlled people I wasn't exactly able to hold a conversation with them, disregarding the circumstances that had brought about that power.
Alexstraza closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she opened her eyes again and looked at me. "I am unsure what should unsettle me more. That I struggle to find that violating… Or that I struggle to feel unsettled by it."
I offered a wan smile, "If it's any consolation you are the first to have a level of free will under it, before it was all or nothing."
I received a dull glare in response. Fair enough, I suppose. It didn't stop Partner nudging me to ask questions but I felt I could put them off, for now, there would be plenty of time. But… I realized that I now had someone to talk to. Truly talk to without having to juggle expectations and image. A few words now couldn't do any harm…
I turned away from Alexstraza and soaked in the sight of this… this… "Earlier, you said this was no Moonwell?"
Alexstraza walked up to my side, willingly, and answered. "Yes, what you have done here I have not seen in the thousands of years I have lived. This is not a Moonwell… Despite their name, moonwells are not created via the Blessing of a God alone." She tilted her head at just the right time and angle, letting tresses of her scarlet hair slip forward, to watch me sputter and snap my own head to her in alarm.
I opened my mouth- "Purewell." But Alexstraza cut me off. Leaving my brain to play catch-up and when I opened my mouth again- "I believe that it, and any further ones you create should be called Purewells, without even trying I can feel its mere presence cleanse the air that I hadn't realized was cloying until now." She pinched her lips and frowned, "Which concerns me greatly."
Was it an overly creative name? No. Was it simple, clear, and sufficient? Yes. I narrowed my eyes at her. She smugged at me. I opened my mouth and waited a moment for her to cut me off. If anything she was reaching Lisa-levels of smugness and I felt an immediate, but brief, spike of worry for my future. "Purewell it is."
I let her earlier comment slide, but I wasn't going to let it lie for long even if I had to force it. And dammit she was preening! She absolutely was!
I opened my mouth- "You are aware you are by a definition of mortal standard, naked, yes?" The smug was back and it brought its friend - Schadenfreude.
I- What? I looked down. I regretted looking down. How did I keep ending up like this? Oh, right. I kept having my body blown apart. Right. At least I was more like a Barbie doll than ah, accurate. Small Mercies.
One thing at a time… First, fixing my clothing problem… again.
At this point, I was actively giving up on actual clothing surviving the future events that I was bound to go through unless they had some indestructible quality to them... But I doubted even that was enough given both times I'd lost my clothing, my body went with them, and I doubted even an indestructible enchantment or what-have-you would have managed to survive the spells I had unleashed and was subjected to. Supernovas, pure Death, giant fucking laser beams shot by giant fucking dragons…
Which left me with only one real option, making clothing out of magic itself. It wasn't a question of the possibility of doing so as proof stood right next to me.
Obviously, some alignments of magic would be better suited for it, Order, for one sounded the most sensible as I remember that was what Partner used to create my current body-shell. Only issue? I didn't know Order. I hadn't the time to even dip my toes in it, let alone the lesser version the mortals used, Arcane. Which sadly meant I couldn't ply Alexstrasza for her spell if it even was a spell, as it likely used principles and understandings that would take time to learn and incorporate into my grasp on magic, and thus wouldn't solve the immediate problem.
Fel was also just as obviously right out. Cosmic for similar reasons. In the end, I was left with the only real choice I had from the start, Death.
With my mindset, I readied myself. Magic was a balancing act between energy, will, and knowledge. At first, I relied on gifted knowledge and power, then I saw firsthand what happened when I added will. Partner herself said that my understanding of [DEATH] eclipsed hers. I gazed upon a literal well of power that proved I had power aplenty. And since the battle, I had certainly… felt more like myself. Like my old self. Like the girl that had looked the world in its eyes and defied them. Whatever hurdle reality threw at me that would prevent Death from being fashioned into clothes? I was ready.
Or, ah, well…
The only issue was I had no idea exactly what to shape the Death into… As alive or dead, I had never had an eye for civilian fashion and had focused more on practicality rather than aesthetics. But I like to think that even so, I had a quite good sense for it when I'd made my Cape costumes. Even if the creative choices I did make were… questionable in retrospect. With the refreshable nature of the clothes and my own natural… 'durability', practicality was not something I needed beyond the basics of any clothing. In essence, this resulted in the first time in my life I could literally create anything I wanted for an outfit with no regard for cost or efficiency but not having a single clue what to create.
After a few moments of deliberation… I gave up on trying to conjure an immediate and detailed outfit and just settled on letting whatever happened, happen. I had a loose idea what it would end up making anyway, the magic of this world seemed to have certain tendencies in visuals, and maybe if I nudged instead of guided it…
Yes, I think that would work best. Perhaps this time I could actually use the iconography associated with death to my advantage, waging a terror campaign ultimately worked against the Alliance landing in the tundra after all. So I need something more… ominous. Something more in line with my new name, Wraith. A cloak of some sort, dark and shadowy, something visually distinctive. Something to inspire fear. For underneath, I would need something simple that wouldn't get tangled when I have to resort to the more physical methods of dodging. Something less… robe-y. As fond as this world's mages seemed to be of robes, I rather set myself apart from them, if only a little. Perhaps a tunic? It was simple enough for my first attempt. I wasn't sure what to go with for my lower half. Robes and skirts were… Pants just didn't work with the image I was trying to portray, sadly.
Dammit, I was rusty. Nothing to it, I wasn't spending another moment here naked.
[Assistance]
My arm lit up with Death, as my missing arm turned into an ethereal bony hand as a wave of blackish-purple smoke billowed up from it quickly spreading up my arm and across my body, covering me in its embrace. For the most part, I simply nudged it slightly here and there with my will, maintaining that vague idea in my mind to try and prevent too much deviation, if one could call it that. I suppose at this point it should come as no surprise that the process was remarkably smooth, and then the outfit was complete.
I almost wished for a mirror before remembering that I had an extra set of eyes. I turned to Alexstrasza and gazed at Wraith through her. Tilting Wraith's body left and right, turning this way and that, we nodded in impressed satisfaction at the first attempt. Yet… Wraith smiled, 'I know you lent a hand, Partner, thank you.' The burst of positive feelings I received was warming.
When I asked for a cloak of Death, I got a Cloak of Death. Wraith was swaddled in it, it was so voluminous, yet when she moved it was light as air. It looked as if it was composed of thousands of strips of shadowy cloth, each independently shifting and rustling as I moved about. Interestingly, it emanated that same purple-black smoke that all my Death spells did, with a majority of it pooling around my feet.
Alexstrasza blinked in surprise and Wraith's head snapped up as we realized a major difference in perspective between the two of us. I had a hood as well, not having initially noticed it because, well, Cloak of Death and that Wraith's eyesight was entirely unimpeded but to Alexstrasza it looked as if I was wearing a solid black hood with a… fuzzy purple haze that if I hadn't been focusing on it almost made the eyes slide off it. As I made Alexstrasza focus on where my face would be I made out more details, like how my sleek silver hair pooled out from my hood. And how it was the only definable feature that could be made out from the pool of darkness that the shroud created. That and my eyes. They were like glowing purple embers, amplified from the loss of Light, and the only thing that Alexstrasza didn't have to strain to see.
I raised my arms and easily parted the swaddling cloak revealing, almost disappointingly - yet at the same time thankfully - a simple short sleeve tunic underneath, formed a deep purple cloth, it was easily swallowed by the shadows of my Cloak. Paired with, thankfully, pants. Tight, black, pants that looked, and felt, as smooth as silk, but still, pants. If my tunic nearly blended into the shadow, then my pants, and by extension legs, were all but hidden.
I smirked, 'Yes I can certainly work with this.' This was now the second thing I had officially created, and best of all, I felt that little nudge in the back of my mind that when I got exploded again I'd be able to call up my outfit far easier.
Alexstrasza and I marveled at my accomplishment but- "What- you- I see…"
I looked up and tilted my head, "What?"
She shook her head and gave a small, self-deprecating smile, "I have borne witness to many things in my long life, but never have I seen someone expend more mana on fashioning themselves clothes than some third-rate mages will spend in their entire mortal lives."
I... see… That felt… I closed my eyes and felt my magic, it definitely took a chunk of mana, but already it was refilling. And compared to what I'm used to, the well, the fights I've been in? I guess my estimation of 'normal' expenditure was… abnormal. What I wouldn't give for some clear hard numbers, and with how magic is… I don't even know what my expenditure actually is, between my growing understanding of magic itself, the various alignments of magic, and my aptitude for each… not to mention it certainly felt like I was working with a larger mana pool now as well, meaning any spell I cast would feel different barring everything else… Was this what Partner meant back then?
Still, a second, honest, viewpoint would help me a lot in gathering data about the magic of this place as clearly my standards and lens of information gathering were warped by my time here. I furrowed my brow and opened my mouth, "We should-"
One of the Dryads that left earlier chose that moment to prance back in, clutching in her hands a long, gnarled branch. There was something off about it from the second I laid my eyes on it. To start, it looked… shaped for lack of a better word, memories boiled up, scratching at the surface of my mind telling me this was much more than a simple branch. The length of it, shaped into a mostly straight staff, was twisted blackened Deadwood, thick but not enough to be unwieldy. At the 'top' of the staff was a… bulb? An opened knot? It was as if the knot in the wood had gnarled and then hollowed out.
I looked at the Dryad with a raised eye as she trotted closer to me, prompting an answer to my unasked question. "We saw that you didn't have a staff when you were here last Savior. And with you granting us new bodies, we all decided to give you a gift to convey our gratitude!" She held out the staff, which… I was unsure of its overall usefulness. My previous staff I used almost more like a polearm than a magical focus, and even then I didn't really require it to do what I did, it just felt… right. Yet… The fight with Malygos was a wake-up call, I was very quickly being taken seriously by everyone around me. I doubted I would have easy access to a ley-line the next time something happens, which meant I'd have to make every bit of mana worth it… I internally sighed, because according to Alexstraza I was so wasteful in my clothing spell that I spent more mana than some mages ever could doing it...
"Hold" Both the Dryad and I paused to look at Alexstrasza. She reached forward, and with a nod from me, the Dryad passed the staff to her. "Malygos may be my brother, but what he did to the world, what he did to the ley-lines…" She trailed off, her gaze solemn as she inspected the staff, "It would be remiss of me, even though I am no longer the Aspect of Life, to allow his madness to run free." Her hand began to glow a dark and rich mix of green and brown as she dragged her arm slowly up the staff, starting at its base. "Just the same, I had not believed that he would fall this far. I cannot force you, Master, but I must still ask. Please, put an end to my brother's insanity, and let his soul rest." Her hand finally reached the knot, and with that the glow emanating from it cut off, leaving the staff to pulse a single time with that same faint colored magic. She looked as sternly and as seriously as she could at me, I had a feeling that even if she was reduced to little more than a willful appendage, she would find a way to rebel if I answered poorly.
"Prove to me you are the Hero the Dragons and Dryads believe you to be."
She held the staff out to me. I clasped it without hesitation.
She was right, it was time to stop delaying, Kel'Thuzad was weak, his Necropoli destroyed, and his entire command staff wiped out. The mortal forces of Azeroth had landed and were ready to take the war to the Lich King, if there was ever a time to turn, it was now before I ended up in further conflicts with the locals.
I held the staff aloft for a moment to study it, before tapping it twice against the ground and nodding. A snort interrupted me, "Run your mana through it to attune it to yourself. It is not some stick for you just to wave around."
I blinked in surprise, 'So that was how they worked?' and then tried to follow her instructions. I extended some of my raw mana into the staff, almost letting go of it in surprise as it quickly slurped it up. I could only watch in fascination as I could visually see my magic run its way up the crevices of the twisted wood as if it was a cup being filled. When the twists met at the top of the staff, forming the hollowed-out knot I was again shocked as suddenly the 'petals' of wood creaked, groaned, and began slowly flexing as their inner faces took on the same deep brown-green mix of sheen as Alexstrasza's magic. The mote of Death that formed, floating inside the hollow as if it was caged in was only due to course at this point.
All in all, it was not only fitting for the image I wanted to project but there was something more to the staff. A… connection… I didn't have before. The sort of thing you didn't realize you were missing until you gain it. I shook my head, I would have time for that later.
"This is excellent." Looking from Alexstrasza and back down at the Dryad, I gave my best attempt at a smile and continued. "Thank you very much for this gift."
I turned my attention away from the first Dryad as a second pranced in and placed down a decrepit-looking acorn onto the ground. If an acorn was the size of a cantaloupe. Similar to my staff before in enchantment, it gave off a waft of Death… actually, no… I knelt and reached out to it with my hand-that-was-not and realized it was soaked in Death far more than my staff was. That observation had me stop completely for a few seconds, "This seed… Even as living as it is, is more Dead than alive." I frowned, the Dryads had said they needed to be soaked in Life to work… but I suppose as little more than spirits tethered to the world by my own Death magic, they were unable to suffuse it the way it needed to be done.
Alexstrasza strode up beside me and gazed down on the seed herself, as the two Dryads looked worriedly at each other. "We are sorry, Savior, this seed represents the best we managed, too many of them would spoil or not grow at all no matter how hard we tried." They hung their heads in shame, but I paid little attention to them, there wasn't anything I could say that would make it better. Instead, I looked to Alexstrasza, the previous Aspect of Life, and someone who had lived far longer than me, working the magics of this world. I didn't have to voice the question as she was already answering, "It's possible."
"Elaborate." The Dryads perked up, and I could tell in the periphery that a few more poked their heads out of the halls.
"In any other circumstance I would tell you it was impossible. Had you simply left me chained and forced me to work my magic it would have been like trying to wring blood from a stone." She leveled me with a cold gaze, it seemed she still wasn't pleased with me over that. Which was… fair enough. "Had you created a true Moonwell, it would have also been impossible. The ritual would fail immediately and reject the seed."
At this she turned and swept her hand out, gesturing at the Purewell. "But this Purewell? It is cleansing, it is refining. It orders reality around it to conform, washing away conflicting magics and smoothing the edges."
I looked away, smothering my guilt. The thought of Kel'Thuzad getting his hands on Alexstrasza… No, I had no choice. I flicked my eyes to the Dryads, noticing she was right. The fuzzier parts of their existence had lost their more crystal-like smudge and gained definition in what I suppose a Dryad looks like if they were not dead. Raking my eyes across the stone and dirt that composed the caver, and even the cut stone that formed the wall of the well, I noticed now that it was different. It just felt like… like Dirt and Stone now, like it had gained definition it didn't have previously.
"And this will work?" I questioned, even if it 'smoothed the edges' as she put it, that didn't mean suddenly that it would work.
Alexstrasza shrugged, "Possibly." She walked back over to me and picked up the seed, I stood as she cradled it in her arms. "I cannot speak for the other seeds, but this one…" She closed her eyes, and suddenly the seed glowed. Opening her eyes as the glow faded she said, "But this one will. All that is left is to bind a soul to the seed"
I see, I think I understood now where she was going with this. By binding the Dryads to the seed before we grew it we ensured no issues, and it would also likely provide a more permanent anchor to reality. Instead of just being a spirit possessing a husk, it would fall more in line with how I resurrected the Onslaught. That was far better than accidentally creating new life and having to force the Dryads to possess it, or just having spirits run around in husks which could lead to who knows what issues later.
Even if it was awful, I was glad to have done what I did to Alexstrasza, if it means not making mistakes that could hurt others.
I motioned for one of the Dryads to come forward as those that were hiding had given up all pretense and just crowded at the entrance. The one who originally carried the seed and the one who carried the staff, having some private conversation between themselves.
Finally, one of them, the seed-bearer, stepped forward. "I will do it. It was my seed, I will test it, but I trust you, Life-binder, Savior, if you say it will work, then I have faith."
Alexstrasza smiled and nodded, "Of course, little one, thank you. Now, step forward." She turned to me, "Now, Master, if you would?"
I startled if only for a moment before striding forward and closing my eyes. Of course, I would have to be the one to do it, For symbolic reasons, for practical reasons, and likely for skill reasons too. I had after all the most practice when it came to binding spirits. I was the reason this whole mess was the way it was. I was the leader.
But this wasn't as simple as I had done before, as before I wasn't gentle or subtle about how I handled those spirits having relied more on mysticism and brute force to get the result I wanted. This was… this was more than that. This wasn't binding unruly spirits to my control, this wasn't something that could be forced… The Dryads had done nothing to me, they had gone above and beyond trying to 'help' me. One good turn deserved another, so I was going to do this right.
And speaking of doing right by them, I had to get into the right mindset. So I took a deep breath and began to think about what exactly I wanted to happen. The first step would be to dissect the process of how it was supposed to go and then try and adapt it. Step one, a seed would be cultivated. In this seed was concentrated life energy, molded by the Druids or others to form into the Dryad. From there Moonwell water was used as a catalytic… to what I believed was simply accelerating a natural process. After all, on Bet, there were plenty of legends about dryads and how they would form naturally in areas of dense nature. Even if in this world the fantasy tropes and creatures were a bit twisted from their origins, they had stayed true for the most part.
Alexstrasza had said I would never have been able to make a Moonwell 'through the Blessing of a God alone', and while there was a lot to unpack with that statement… that meant there was more in the process than just a ridiculous amount of mana being focused in a specific way. But… What if the purpose was to accelerate the growth? If that was the case… I didn't need it and I didn't need to replicate any part of that stage, I already had fully grown spirits of Dryads.
That meant the seed was the key, in theory, it was the cluster of metaphorical stem cells that would turn into the creature it was guided into being. Guided by the spiritual blueprint the Dryads already were… It didn't have to be perfect, but it had to carry purpose. Alexstrasza fell under my control with the Purewell explosion because while the chains I had forced into her soul were not native to her, they carried such a clarity of purpose that in her own words it was 'smoothed' into her.
Purpose…
Inside this seed was a spark of Life, covered in a heavy blanket of Death, but it matched the Dryad in its nature. For they were naught but kernels of Life shrouded in Death, holding on to the world without a physical form. They would pair nicely with the soulless seed.
A spirit to guide and shape, as the druids once did for them in life. An acorn to give an anchor to the free spirits. In a way, it reminded me of the Tao of the natural order, a physical body with a gateway of mind paired with a spirit with a connection to the physical. Eternally circling, one should not exist without the other.
I opened my eyes.
"Step forward and touch the seed, do not fight what happens." I commanded of her. As she nervously trotted forward and placed her hand on the seed, I contemplated whether to use my 'casting' arm or use my new staff. A gut feeling told me that what Alexstrasza did to the Deadwood was important, and if anything it could help me here.
I raised the staff and tilted it towards the seed and Dryad. "May you provide this seed with what it could never manifest, and may this seed restore that which you lost." 'There,' I nodded to myself, 'that was suitably deep for my audience,' and without further words I let loose a pulse of magic through my staff, fixing the image of what I wanted to happen in my mind with all my will.
The cracks and crevices of my staff dully glowed with a dark light as the mote in the center brightened, with the wood petal bending back a little and flaring their own light around it.
The Dryad burst with a shower of motes which were quickly consumed by the acorn. I was praying it worked as I hoped, to who I wasn't sure, but the nod from Alexstrasza made me lift my feet and trek to the Purewell.
I manifested a hand of Lunar energy and dipped it into the water. The well didn't so much as a ripple from my intrusion into it, staying perfectly and unnaturally clear as I collected a handful of Purewater from its depths, little waterfalls cascading back as my hand rose back up. Turning to the acorn that Alexstrasza now placed on the ground, I knelt down and carefully let the Purewater dribble onto it.
The reaction was immediate, and I scrambled up and away to avoid potentially messing anything up and to give the acorn room to grow. Shimmering and… the best I could describe, magically rippling, the moment the Purewater hit it, the seed rapidly expanded and grew, and quickly the shape of a Dryad revealed itself, bark melding into two distinct pieces of flesh while plantlife grew across the body. It was what I imagined of a Dryad… except for the coloration of it.
Its lower half, instead of having brown fur as I expected of a deer, had black fur with a few grey markings scattered about randomly. The upper, 'human', half was pale and corpse-like, with its blue-green hair cascading down its back and covering part of its face, eyes closed behind the plant-like curtain. Within its hair were several strange-looking flowers, standing out in contrast with deep, vibrant purple petals curling outward.
I gazed at the unmoving Dryad worriedly. I was on a roll today and I would really not want this to be where I made my mistake. Thankfully, after a few seconds, the body started moving - stretching its arms out as if it had just woken up, lifting its legs, and letting out a yawn. As she opened her eyes, soft ice-blue iris that glowed gently, she let out a radiant smile and giggled happily, before immediately bounding up to me and wrapping me in a hug.
"Thank you Savior! Thank you!"
Having expected the reaction, I didn't freeze up and instead gave a one-armed hug back, somewhat awkward given I was still holding my staff in that hand, and my other hand being what it was. After a reasonable amount of time, I pushed her gently away, the newly born… Was this even a Dryad anymore? Especially considering it felt more like Death than Life? That… was a question for later. Probably best to hold off on the deep philosophical existential questions for as long as I could put it off.
Regardless, after eventually getting out of the hug, I sent her off to get the other seeds the Dryads had made, with instructions to work with Alexstrasza to suss out the most salvageable. While I doubted that there would be any real issues going forward, considering the neo-Dryad knew how to cultivate the 'correct' seed now and had the body to make it stick, or at least that was my hope. With that issue handled I could go off to check on my oth- "Savior!"
… Of course, I couldn't be done just yet.
Turning to the tunnel, along with every other individual, I saw a panicking Dryad come barreling into the cave, instantly making me tense at whatever had caused her to panic. Not once had I seen any of them panic, become angry certainly, but never panic in this way before, and it meant that whatever spooked her was serious. "The Satyr! Something terrible has happened to it!"
… Oh. That said a lot.
From day one, no, from second one, I had quickly understood that the Dryads and Satyrs hated one another and nothing would change that. For a Dryad to be scared over something happening to a Satyr, that implied whatever happened was extreme and needed my attention immediately.
"You have your orders! See to them, I will handle this" I snapped at everyone. I had to get them moving and keep their minds off of whatever was going on.
The den erupted into a flurry of activity as I left, Dryads getting ready to create more acorns for themselves, which hopefully would be a simple affair now. My pace following the panicked Dryad was far quicker, given that the two of us rushed through the tunnels to wherever the Satyr was in the labyrinthine Barrows, magic filling my body and reinforcing it so I wouldn't lose sight of my guide. Eventually passing int-
Good God! Something fuzzed in the corners of my vision as I looked at the creature before me.
For what met my sight was something born out of Bonesaw's madness. Thick, bloated 'flesh' strained as it kept waxing and waning, crystals pushing out and rupturing said 'flesh' in a manner that would kill a normal creature, but only served to inflict pain on the monstrosity. Massive hands leaking arcane radiance cradled its face, two prismatic horns cracking, breaking, and reforming constantly under a haze of purple and some malign influence. The center of its chest was gone, replaced with a gaping hole in which sat a single green crystal completely still compared to the roiling 'flesh' surrounding it. Green lighting crackling around it, with each 'strike' inside the former chest cavity causing a convulsion.
I stood in silent shock at what had become of the Satyr, for what else could it have been here in the heart of my territory? It was only when it turned to me, uncovering its face with one hand and slamming it down into the earth that I was lifted from my shock, its voice deep and low and it painfully sounded over the noise its body was making. "Hurts… Make… Stop…"
I… understood why the Dryad came running immediately now.
There was too much I didn't know about… everything surrounding this situation. I could make a guess that it was related to my Purewell, the timing of this and my creation of it was too close for it to be anything else. The questions were how and why it happened, which was something I could only speculate about right now. How many forms of magic were locked inside the Satyrs' bodies? If this was what happened when too many types of magic were added to the mix and 'smoothed'...
Despite 'knowing' that it was almost certainly because of my Purewell… There was too much unknown for me to try and 'fix' whatever had happened to the Satyr, not even mentioning that I had no idea where to even start to try and fix it if I even could. The best choice to deal with this lies in minimizing and alleviating the problem. Seeing as the only cause could be the Purewell… I had no idea what to do. Would moving him away work? Or should I keep him near it until the process stops?
I tsked, I needed the data more than I needed any loyalty from the Satyrs. To be honest, it was possibly the best group it could happen to, as now I can learn from it without having to inflict it on someone on purpose.
I quickly brought forth my chains, binding his arms down to the ground. I followed that up with more chains wrapping around the rest of his body. Whatever is going on, I can study later.
… Just another task on an ever-growing list.
I sighed, for now though, I had two other places to inspect and ensure that everything was running smoothly. Knowing my luck, I would get some task right after I finished at the Harbor, and I'd be stuck doing something I had to do, or else I'd get my soul ripped out. Letting out a sigh, I opened another Death Gate to my Port and stepped through.
𝔸𝕟 𝔸𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤, 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕜𝕖. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤.
[Violet Citadel - Rhonin]
"-nd that is why I believe an expedition to discover the source of the anomalies would benefit us in the long run." Aethas took a step back, letting us ponder the argument he'd made and the possible benefits and repercussions it could have.
His plan had merits to it, as he normally did and why both I and Modera trusted his judgment with such matters. In spite of his young age, by elven standards, and lack of experience his humble and optimistic attitude marked him as a different point of view from most of us. And while I was convinced, it was in line with the reasoning of us even bringing the city to Northrend in the first place, after all. The other three on the council though, were skeptical, and it would take some time, yet all that was necessary for a scouting expedition was convincing a single one of the three to go with Aethas' idea.
It was Ansirem who spoke first in the wake of Aethas, the only member still absent from Dalaran, dealing with lingering issues before he would return to help with the war against the Scourge. "I can understand the wish to uncover the source of these anomalies, as they may be hostile or detrimental to the safety of Dalaran. However, it should not come at the cost of fortifying the city against Blue Dragons, Scourge Assault, or whatever caused the arcane fluctuations we felt days ago."
Trust Ansirem to worry about Dalaran's protection despite having not set foot in the city for over a decade. I suppose that while the man may not have due to the memories associated with its fall and 'his' failures then… but I did not doubt he would protect it until his last breath through his own methods. Last I had heard, he was back at the Crater ensuring neither the Ogres nor Scourge tried anything, and while his mages and the men and women of Southshore were being pushed back, they were not faltering in the slightest.
It would be a great boon if he could return to the city, his strategic mind was always one of the greatest in Dalaran. Alas. I sighed.
If Aethas or Modera could convince him that it was worth the manpower to research the anomaly, either to harness or protect against whatever it was, he would undoubtedly vote in favor. The difficulty lay in convincing him that such an expenditure was necessary or worthwhile. Modera could possibly do so given time, the two had known one another and seen eye-to-eye for the better part of five decades now, but I knew it was more likely to get support from Jaina or Vargoth than rely on Ansirem agreeing in a timely manner. Especially since the man was not here, he did not feel what we all felt.
I turned my eyes to Vargoth, he had spent decades in Outland, including a year locked up in his tower there from what the Adventurers who rescued him had said. Vargoth himself had said he was going to recuperate from the experience for a long period when he returned to Dalaran. Even now he only appeared as a projection to this meeting despite being in a nearby tower. His vote was likely tied to whatever would allow him to not participate, be held responsible, or be put in charge of anything. A pity, but predictable and understandable. I shuddered at the thought of facing such a fate myself.
Unlike the other two, Jaina was much easier, yet more difficult, to win over. For as much as she had good intentions - that I agreed with - she was far too inexperienced, and her attempts at peace, while for the better, were unsuited for the current day. Especially when the atrocities of both sides were clear in everyone's memories. It would be better if she focused more on the now, even more so with our nation being on the doorstep of the Scourge and in spitting range of an unstable Aspect of Magic. I rubbed my chin in thought, I suppose it would be easy to acquire her support for the reconnaissance by mentioning that the expedition could be handled by the Sunreavers and a contingent of Kirin Tor mages, a perfect way to appeal to her attempts for reconciliation.
"I can spare a few of my apprentices from the effort, Ansirem. We don't have access to the ward schemes, regardless, so we're milling about restless. The way I see it, this will help keep magical accidents caused via boredom down, and we learn about these anomalies and any possible issues that could arise from them."
"Or, you could make everything worse with your prodding, causing a repeat of whatever caused the fluctuations in the first place." Vereesa was blunt and straight to the point, ribbing me and rolling her eyes all the while, but she raised a valid concern. While most mages on a whole were perfectly fine when presented with an entirely new frontier to explore and countless anomalies…
It didn't help that the Sunreavers were proposing to lead the expedition. Aside from myself and Modera, no one else was comfortable with the Sunreavers being in the city, especially with how they had sequestered themselves into an enclave and were not inclined to leave it. Vereesa was quite… hostile… with me when the vote to let them in passed, and while I was eventually forgiven, she was still very antagonistic against them due to past transgressions.
I sighed but smiled all the same. Vereesa… Normally someone outside the Council wouldn't be in one of these meetings, but the Silver Covenant she had formed was a potent power bloc, regardless of the fact that they had technically no political sway in Dalaran. Yet, representatives of the various blocs were occasionally invited to give input on certain matters. As such, her being here was more courtesy than anything, as she didn't have a vote, and could only advise or state her opinions about matters. Only a fool would dismiss a Ranger-General's, and a Hero of the Alliance who'd lived through two of the Great Wars, advice without good reason.
It was unfortunate that rising in the ranks of arcana mastery went part and parcel with a certain level of pride and stubbornness.
I had barely contributed to the actual merits of the plan throughout the entire proceeding as I didn't trust myself enough to speak without immediately siding with Aethas, and as the nominal Leader, I needed to at least pretend to be impartial until the end. I don't know how Antonidas managed to do it, but it took far more effort than it should have to be 'The Leader of the Kirin Tor'.
It was so much easier when I was just Rhonin, but duty meant I needed to step up, and I did so without complaint.
Modera stepped up to reply, and it was only seeing the gleam in her eye that let me know everything was going as she wanted it to. "If such is the case, the Silver Covenant can escort the Sunreavers to the anomaly. I can also spare some of my mages to oversee the two to prevent any issues from occurring, I'm sure I can find a couple that are getting as restless as Rhonin's boys." She pointedly smiled benignly at Vereesa, my wife holding a scowl on her face at the expression but nodding reluctantly.
'What could she say to that?' I thought with a wry smile, we were all played even if it was in good intent.
Well, it was time to call the vote, I spoke up, "Those in favor of the expedition to uncover the anomaly?" I raised my hand, as did all but Vargoth… who was slumped over and softly snoring. I suppose that Outland had truly mentally drained the man if he fell asleep during a Council meeting, though I was impressed that his image was both intact and coherent despite this. "The motion is passed. Aethas, Vereesa, Morena. Prepare your people and supplies and meet at Krasus's Landing when ready."
I was met by nods from the three mentioned as I ended the meeting. "Meeting adjourned." With that Modera blinked out, followed shortly by Vargoth and Ansirem's images. Jaina gave me a grateful nod before she teleported away. I knew we were busy but honestly, I sighed, it would be nice if we could actually stick around post meeting. Just have some casual conversation for once, the chances to do so were so rare these days, after all…
It was then I noticed that Aethas had made no move to leave just yet, and was instead walking towards us and giving a bow. "Thank you for the opportunity, Rhonin. I guarantee you that I'll have the anomaly dealt with one way or another by the time we get back. If we ignore too many of these 'small matters' I fear we will find ourselves buried." Aethas' tone was lighthearted, but I knew he meant every word he said. It may have been an impulse decision to let him in after only two meetings with him, but my gut said Aethas was trustworthy and it hadn't steered me wrong yet.
I cracked a smile and chuckled, my tone just as lighthearted despite the words. "Just make sure you all come back safe and sound. We need every man and woman to fight the Scourge. And be sure to burn the ones that don't." I clapped the elf on the shoulder before turning to Vereesa, my wife… making no attempt to hide her disgust of the Blood Elf by not even looking at him. "And that goes double for you Vereesa."
She smirked as Aethas turned away and left, but it was gone the moment he was away and I had to sigh. "Vereesa. Don't antagonize him, don't take any risks, and if something feels wrong get everyone out of there." She made to speak, her eyes narrowing before I acted on impulse and surged forward to wrap her in a hug. "Come back safe and sound. For me, for Arator, for Giramar and Galadin. Just promise you'll come back."
She didn't say anything at first, arms snaking around me as she chuckled. "You worry too much. I'll be fine, Rhonin." I didn't say anything in response, just giving her a quick kiss and smile as we separated, Vereesa heading off to perform her preparations for the coming expeditions.
I meanwhile, needed to focus on the necessary preparations to bring in Adventurers, Alliance, and Horde forces, a thankless task that most took for granted. Portals, accommodations, supplies, services, and shops… the list was endless, and all of them needed to be organized in only a few days. It was a blessing I could delegate the majority of this to others, but a vast majority I had to do on my own to ensure it wouldn't cause issues between any two groups.
Sometimes I wished I could say no to duty.
[Somewhere within the Crystalsong Forest - Vereesa]
"Truly remarkable… Arcane suffuses the entirety of the material, yet it doesn't break easily…"
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as the Sunreaver continued to ramble about the material, keeping my eyes on both the Sunreavers leading the expedition and the forest itself for trouble. The rest of my rangers kept a similar focus, moving through the brush surrounding the mages, eyes peeled for the slightest movement through the trees.
It'd been hours now since they started preparations for the expedition, meanwhile my rangers and I were ready in twenty minutes. Of course, the Sin'dorei needed even more time than the Quel'dorei to get ready, likely to indulge their addictions before setting off into the unknown. I'd have set off on the expedition with proper Kirin Tor mages well before they had a chance to arrive had Rhonin not been there at Krasus' Landing. Ultimately, despite the Sin'dorei's failings, I grudgingly acquiesced to my husband's desire for better relations.
Though I would keep an eye on them the entire time, their nature made them untrustworthy.
Looking around while tuning out the excited mages as they continued studying the 'tree', I leaned against the tree trunk I was using as a vantage point, resisting the urge to keep an arrow nocked and ready. Unease was creeping around me, and I could tell some of my rangers were feeling the same, given their bows at the ready, some nocked and ready for a fight, not that I blamed them.
This forest was unnatural.
No sound of bird call, no wind rustling the leaves, no animals seen even once in the hours we'd been traveling, the only thing 'living' beyond the trees themselves was a treant just... wandering. Not a single deer or mouse, bear or wolf, just trees. And after the first sign of something strange occurring in this forest, there was… that 'tree', that defied what it was supposed to be.
The mages were recording everything they could about it, but I doubted even an Ogre… well, maybe an Ogre Magi, would miss that it was completely saturated in arcane energies so much so it had quite literally crystallized. If this was even an inkling of what lay further in the forest… it would be better to end the expedition here, before the Sin'dorei could mess it up. There was no telling what arcane monstrosities inhabited these woods, and with the concentration of mages here, it would be a beacon for said monstrosities to come down on their heads.
I refrained from showing anything outwardly as I dropped to the forest floor, shooting a glance and nod to the ranger running to take my place as I walked towards Sunreaver and his assistant. Out of the Sin'dorei that had journeyed to Dalaran from Quel'thalas, Sunreaver was among the more noble and less arrogant of the bunch, something his followers could take lessons from. Not that it stopped me from treating him like the rest of his kind, especially with how Prince Sunstrider was prior to the Third War.
"Sunreaver."
He grunted at me still in a haze of focused concentration, his gaze fixated on the bark of that tree as if it held secrets long buried, despite being bark. "It's unique in a way that defies the natural order of things." Like I cared, but I remained courteous and stayed silent as he looked up at me and handed the piece to his assistant, who hurriedly put it in a bag at his side. "Is something wrong Ranger-General?"
"It's too quiet."
As a ranger that grew up in the Eversong outside of the city's walls, the lack of noise in a forest was never a good sign. From a Troll raiding party to a particularly massive wolf that took seven Rangers to take down, quiet moments in a forest always held ominous intentions. I was prepared for a quiet dismissal from Sunreaver, to leave him alone as he and his researched the frankly stupid tree.
What I got was his full attention before he crossed his arms and gave another hum of thought. "This arcane energy is unnatural, I wouldn't be surprised if whatever caused it was behind the silence. If even the local, and quite sturdy, flora was affected the fauna is no doubt dead or twisted." He was silent for a moment longer before turning to the still working mages, running scrying tests and other nonsense on the 'wood' they had broken off. "I won't risk my peoples' lives needlessly. We'll finish up and head back to Dalaran as quickly as possible." I didn't let my surprise show, just nodding in reply and turning around to move ba-
I barely ducked under the projectile that nearly took my eye.
In the span of a second an arrow was nocked, in another Sunreaver had his staff in hand and a fireball in his hand. I heard scrambling around me, but I paid it no mind as I scanned through the trees looking for the source of the projectile, moving quickly to a tree to put myself out of their sight. Catching a flash of white in the distance, I drew and fired into the trees without hesitation where it would be… to seemingly no effect as the blur kept moving before simply vanishing.
"Gather what you have! We are leaving!"
Near immediately after Sunreaver's order a hail of arrows came flying from every direction surrounding the expedition. My Rangers and I dodged the arrows with ease, reflexes, and skills honed over the years triumphing over whatever foe we faced. The mages were a different matter, as only most of them managed to avoid the arrows coming at them or block them with a conjured shield of magic. The unlucky few however were pierced by the arrows, a few apprentices and a battlemage who had an arrow pierce his shield, but thankfully none of them were fatal or debilitating. What took me by surprise was the nature of the arrows, namely that they were phantasmal.
"Shield Up! Shield Up!" The call went out as the arrows stopped, and in response the expedition started clustering together, eight of Sunreaver's apprentices starting to channel for a portal back as Modera's mages created a dome of arcane energy to encapsulate us. Rhonin's own apprentices scrambled around assisting where they could. While my Rangers and I could only sit there and grit our teeth as we desperately tried to find where our attackers were hiding. The shield had barely finished forming when the next volley came soaring in, only to bounce or shatter on the dome before dissipating. With the small breathing room enabled I scanned the forest for whatever was shooting at us and found nothing but the occasional blur moving between the trees that disappeared the moment I tried to focus on it.
Not wanting to be caught unprepared, I nocked an arrow and kept scanning the forest for the threat assailing us, meanwhile, Sunreaver went over to his apprentices who were struggling with making the portal. I paid only a slight amount of attention to him, my focus largely on finding whatever was attacking us. "What's taking so long? It shouldn't take this long to make a portal back to Dalaran."
"There is… interference of… some kind, Archmage." I clicked my tongue upon hearing the words. Typical, things had to be more difficult than they needed to be.
A third volley flew out, and while a few arrows managed to get through this time, they were thankfully diverted and disrupted by piercing the shield. Just like with the other two times, I saw nothing but a blur, something that was beginning to annoy me as I was forced to sit back and wait, a feeling that I could tell was shared by my Rangers with a single glance around.
Sunreaver cursed, "Damn it all! Get the portal up, Apprentices, we are counting on you."
I held my tongue in saying something, now was not the time.
As if to emphasize the point, a flash of green fire came hurtling from the forest, my eyes widening as the green flames of Fel registered before slamming into the shield with force if the cracking noises were anything to go by. It was only the first of several as the shield was bathed in Fel, flickering and fluctuating under the strain of holding back the demon magic, with several sections of the shield paradoxically, in true to the nature of Fel, coated in the flames. When the next volley came, the mages were visibly straining to hold up the shield, and while the arrows were still largely ineffective, they were getting closer to the mages holding the bubble together. Laughter from the trees flitted through the air, making my grip tighten at the harsh and grating sound. I couldn't make out whatever it was the laughter came from, but I didn't need to as they appeared from the forest to continue their gloating.
I, and my Rangers, didn't give them the chance and let loose our arrows.
Unlike the blurs before, the ones almost assuredly responsible for the volleys assailing the expedition, the… satyrs that came forward didn't react until several of them were pincushions for arcane-infused arrows. It was bizarre, almost like we had shot statues carved to look and act like satyrs, but our arrows nevertheless caused the demon-kin to retreat and cease their laughter, with the one I targeted losing his arm from a well-placed shot. Having cracked the stone-like body they were made of along some sort of fault line in the construction. While I'd hoped to kill the crystal-like satyrs and reduce the pressure on the mages preventing us from burning to death, I would settle for making them back off for the time being.
Our second volley was sent into the satyrs' backs just as a new threat emerged, and I had to make certain that my eyes weren't being deceived by demonic illusions by the sheer absurdity I was witnessing. A swarm of dryad ghosts came sprinting through the undergrowth towards us, hurling spears and darting between trees for cover. Under the hail of spears, arrows, and another round of felfire from the enraged satyrs, I doubted the shield would hold long, but refused to allow Dalaran to go unknowing or any of the mages to die on my watch.
As the arcane shell surrounding the expedition buckled and strained under the weight of projectiles, what few mages weren't holding the shield together added their spells to my Rangers' arrows, aimed solely at the dryads rushing us. Unlike the satyrs, the Dryads avoided a good portion of the attacks sent at them, and what little hit them didn't seem to faze them in the slightest, though my eyes did make out that they were affected by the arcane, fire, and frost sent at them.
Those 'wounds', however, were negligible.
That didn't stop the expedition from throwing everything at them. We could only pray that they'd have to retreat eventually under the brunt of the spells and arcane arrows sent at them, just as the Satyrs had done moments before. That thought withered as they kept moving forward, taking hit after hit without flinching with only a handful of them stopping and turning around with a parting spear thrown. Weathering the hail of projectiles we sent at them, they reached the shield and took to stabbing the barrier with their glowing spears, which when coupled with the lingering felfire caused the barrier to finally fail.
Our only solace was the wave of fire from Sunreaver that sent the Dryads fleeing instead of continuing their charge.
With the barrier destroyed, the arrows coming from the trees had free reign to pepper us, and while my Rangers and I had no issue dodging them, the mages that had been maintaining the barrier were in no condition to even move. Quickly deployed bubbles by the mages that hadn't been maintaining the dome managed to shield from several of the arrows, alas, a number managed to find their targets.
My instincts again saved me as I dropped and rolled backward, something sailing over me that was decidedly not an arrow.
Quickly looking up, I finally saw what had been firing the arrows at us for the past several minutes - another ghostly figure, likely a night elf riding a similarly spectral feline. My eyes widened as it completely bypassed the Rangers and mages that were turning to it, instead heading straight at one of the injured and exhausted battlemages. The mage was promptly snatched by the jaws of the beast and dragged screaming into the forest and out of sight, well before anyone could react or do anything to stop it.
I sprung back to my feet and called out to my Rangers with orders. "Constrict! Circle! Protect the Mages!" Just as I finished and nocked an arrow, I saw another spectral elf racing through the forest, not even bothering to remain hidden as it barreled forth. Drawing my arrow back, I barely bothered aiming as I let loose, the reckless abandon it was moving with would see that the arrow hit. As my arrow sped true, right before it struck the spectral elf another projectile, filled with a pale light that gleamed in the shade, struck my arrow.
I had not even a second to react, barely even comprehending what had happened as the two impacted one another, releasing their stored magics in a violent flash of light and sound that left me blinded and deafened.
Stumbling backward, my sense of balance thrown into disarray, unable to find steady footing, blinking as the sounds of combat echoed and distorted around me. Blurred shapes moved in my vision, jerkily stumbling about like myself, some falling to the ground while others managed to stay upright. My eyes started clearing, alternating between blinking and squeezing my eyes shut as the spots that danced across my vision disappeared and the blurs redefined themselves, letting me see again.
It was chaos. Our defensive line has been shattered by what happened, rangers and mages stumbled around, few finding their bearings in time to resist. More of those spectral elves were blitzing forward on their mounts, the flash having let them approach without taking any fire. I counted four of them that showed themselves, alongside another elf without a mount that walked with an ethereal air around them. Before I could focus on them further, a wave of heat slammed into my back, making me whirl around in a panic.
What I found was Sunreaver encompassed in flames, the sheer heat burning the grass and leaves around him to cinders, channeling his magic into some spell. "By the Firelands be purged, specters of the Scourge!" With a grandiose gesture, the flames leapt forth, growing and spreading out into the form of a massive elemental as it billowed towards the ghosts with a roar. I watched it from the sidelines for a moment before turning back to Sunreaver and running over.
The closer I came to him the more the heat became overbearing, the heat wafting off of him was enough that I couldn't get too near as the air itself burned me. Any words of praise died in my throat, his armor had turned molten, and I could only watch in horror as liquid metal sloughed off dripping onto the ground while what remained of his tabard and clothes were naught but a crumbling pile of ashes. As he dropped to his knees, the Eye of Dalaran he wore with pride before his helm flickered out, just as his helm spilled off and revealed the burned and blackened skin lined with erratic red-white lines beneath.
The Arcane-addled fool had gone beyond his limits and overchanneled his mana, crippling himself in the process.
Tightening my grip on my bow, I called out to two of Rhonin's apprentices nearby and made a snap decision. "You two! Grab Sunreaver and get him out of here!" I waited long enough to see them acknowledge the order, casting a ward over themselves to get through the heat and flames to grab Sunreaver and carry him towards his own apprentices, before turning my attention back to the ghosts and rampaging elemental.
Just as I focused my attention on them, I felt the rush of arcane magic signifying the portal's completion behind me. I didn't need to give an order, the portal opening was a signal all its own to let the expedition know that it was time to leave. As disciplined as the mages and my Rangers protecting them were, at that moment the idea of an organized retreat didn't exist as they all wanted to escape this sudden hell we found ourselves in. A few brave souls stood their ground with me and kept the ghosts at bay, slinging spells and loosing arrows to deter the spectral elves from abducting more of our kin. With our frenzy of a second wind, we managed to keep them at bay, too busy dodging the close range deluge of magic and arrow to press us more. The raging elemental in their ranks certainly did them no favors.
But our numbers were too disparate to hold them for long, as eventually our mages tired and my Rangers ran low on arrows. The boldest of the ghosts darted forward in our weakness, delivering debilitating strikes to those that remained. Their comrades nearby rushed to their sides and picked them up to limp towards the portal, but with each mage or ranger that fell or retreated, they advanced more, caused more wounds, and forced more to fall back.
Of course, that was when the elemental disappeared in an immense blinding flash of pale light that slammed down from the sky.
There was no time to stand and gawk at the display of magic and power that completely invalidated Sunreaver's sacrifice, as the elves redoubled their efforts to take us down, shooting at the apprentices holding together the portal back to Dalaran. As the dust settled, I witnessed the elf on foot walk through the lingering cloud serenely, utterly at peace despite destroying the elemental with what seemed to be no effort. A split-second decision was made, and without hesitation I gave my order, spinning on my heel as I did. "Everyone, fall back now!!"
A measured retreat, no matter how disorganized, was no longer an option.
What remained of the rear guard fell back rapidly, though with the ghosts peppering us it was a hazardous affair and more than one fell with an arrow to the leg. I didn't know why they aimed for crippling shots instead of simply going for the kill, but I couldn't question it-
A stab of pain lanced up my leg, making me stumble to the ground. Looking down, I saw a faintly glowing, ghastly arrow embedded right below my knee. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself up and tried to move, only for another bout of pain to rise up. Flipping around on my one good leg, I faced the ghost whose bow was lowered to the side, still walking at a leisurely pace, as if she was merely taking a stroll through a garden instead of a battlefield.
"Ranger-General!"
"Get through that portal and close it!" My tone brokered no argument, even as my decision weighed heavy on me. I knew what the end result of my choice was, but I would not damn another person to try and help me, nor would I consign those that remained to a foolish rescue attempt. No, it was better to get as many out as possible, and I'd hold them back as long as I could.
I drew an arrow back and fired it straight at the ghost, only for her to sidestep it with ease, followed by the second arrow I sent her way as well. I heard humming fill the air, but paid it no mind as I focused on the ghost… watching as she put her bow onto her back and pulled out two curved swords. Try as I did, using every ounce of skill that I'd honed since becoming a Ranger… I never got close to wounding her.
Unceasingly, the ghostly elf walked, and every arrow I sent was batted away with contemptuous ease by one of the two swords. It reached the point where I had no arrows left, achieving nothing with them throughout her walking forward, and I was left to toss my bow aside and draw a sword that was more ceremonial than practical. But I held no hope that it would change anything. I was more used to archery, and had neglected swordsmanship in the years since my days with Rhonin's 'adventuring'.
I held my sword at the ready, knowing it would only delay the inevitable but defiant nonetheless in the face of my mysterious fate. The face of the ghost was serene and relaxed as she had closed enough for me to see, a small and gentle smile adorning her that sent chills down my spine. I attempted with the last dregs of my strength to strike her down.
One moment I was holding my sword, the next it was sailing through the air out of my grip, a giggle came from the ghost as I fumbled onto my back. I hadn't even seen her move.
"Elune Adore."
She said those two words, and without a shred of mercy slammed her blades' pommels into the side of my head…
Galadin… Giramar… I'm sorry… for not coming…home…
Rhonin… forgive me… for breaking… that promise…
Everything faded away to the sound of a lullaby.
Grey AN: As of May 13th, 2022, I have graduated from college in totality. This means that my writing time will be cut quite heavily as I move out into the world proper and get a job. With that said, most of this chapter (3.2 and 3.3, yes we have three parts for this) is largely finished, with only a few parts left to fully make.
Sneaky: this clearly means that it will only take us a quarter of a year to update now! But no, real talk grey is looking for a job and while its not something he wants to ever rely on as writing is a hobby not a job, incentives never hurt.
Grey: A link to our discord is below. Should you have questions or such, you are far more likely to get a hold of me or Sneaky there than you are on this site.
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Sciscitatia 3.2
- Location
- United States, Texas
Sneaky AN: I got sick and couldn't think straight after a week. Thanks to everyone who donated, it stresses Grey out, which I find hilarious.
Grey AN: Stress? No. Nothing that severe. Does Sneaky get amusement out of my reaction to it and the popularity of Scarab? Yes.
[Wraith's Landing - Northern Coast of Icecrown]
Stepping out into the snow and harsh winds of my Port, I was instantly captivated by how quickly a new section had appeared within it.
Nestled by the ramp down to the sea, opposite the warehouses full of materials, were circles of acolytes and Death Knights steadily creating temporary buildings and setting up scaffolding for themselves. Tents of fur, an unfinished building of stone and metal, and even a small wooden fence was set up in a similar manner to the sparring pit that the Corrupted Blood had. It also looked like they had done a fair job at clearing the infinitely piling snow along with setting up bonfires in their dedicated area. I found myself perplexed at how little progress Gothik's forces had made in setting up their own structures. The Death Knights were far stronger than the average Onslaught worker and being Undead they needed no rest or concern for temperature.
Looking towards the warehouses, I understood why so little progress was made, as I found my Onslaught builders focusing on everything but Gothik's forces. Which made some sense to a degree given their prior relationship, and the fact I hadn't raised any of Gothik's men - there was no debt to be loyal to me. That wasn't to say they weren't giving his men materials when they came over, but the Onslaught certainly weren't helping them build anything and seemed to be doing anything possible to delay distribution.
I frowned in thought and dragged my eyes across the activity present. I was unsure if I should do anything about the hostility present between the two groups, as I had no idea how long I wanted to keep Gothik around. Or maybe I should say I was unsure how long it was until Gothik was forced to choose between loyalty to the Scourge or swearing himself to me. It was then I noticed, Razuvious? I believe that was what his name was. I noticed him dragging an entire sled's worth of stone piled higher than I was tall by himself with an odd double chain setup attached to the sled. Considering that I'd seen my Onslaught struggle to move the stones with two of them at a third of that height… I believe I was justified in staring at the spectacle as he made it seem like the only reason there wasn't more stone was because the sled wouldn't take it.
I had a suspicion I was right.
"Razuvious is a wonder, is he not?" I turned around in response to Gothik's voice, finding him striding up to my side and staring at the man who very well may have trained his way into a Brute 8 or 9 rating. "There has yet to be a day that I regret taking him into my service, and he has more than earned his place." I stayed silent as the old man shook his head lightly then focused on me, gaze sharp and intent. "I suppose we have much to talk about, Apprentice. I may be old, but I am not blind."
"Indeed." I paused and gave some thought to how to go about handling this. On one hand, Gothik was competent and his forces were powerful, on the other hand, Gothik was competent and his forces were powerful. Would any opinions of me triumph over any loyalty to the Scourge he may have? Any resources I spent on him now may ultimately be turned on me later, yet… Gothik seemed… amicable. Kel'Thuzad betrayed him, even if unintentionally. The Lich King as far as I knew only ever really communicated with Kel'Thuzad or other high-level commanders.
My own interactions with him were positive but there was a clear power imbalance between them, who knew how he would react to me… changing those terms. Ultimately, it came full circle. Gothik was competent and if I had the chance to turn him before I decided to take on the Scourge it was best to extend that olive branch now.
"How is your faction holding up? Is there anything you need that the Onslaught isn't currently dispensing to you?"
He gave a low, light, chuckle. "Most of what we need has been taken care of already Apprentice." He gestured to the mostly barren Port, it was little more than a collection of storehouses and defenses. "There is ample space for the various structures we will eventually need." He stroked his beard in thought. "The Plague Cauldrons are the only thing we cannot build ourselves with what's here, and that's solely from a lack of magical reagents and ingredients."
I decided this was a good segue into testing the waters of his loyalties. "I wouldn't worry too much about the Plague Cauldrons, we won't be needing them." Like hell I was allowing those foul things into my bases. Not only would it be bad PR, but I truly had no need of them. I could deal Death and raise whomever I wanted to without the added assistance the Plagues could give me.
Gothik merely leveled me with a lidded gaze. After a moment of silence passed between us, he finally responded, "Perhaps we should take this to someplace with a seat? You do not appear to have rested once since Wyrmrest."
While that was a mild, neutral response, it spoke volumes. Like that for one he didn't immediately call out to take up arms against someone who just hinted at the possibility that they were planning on betraying the Scourge.
I gave him a sharp nod. "Of course." Without further words, he turned and began walking towards a low-traffic building. One whose purpose I hadn't divined by the time I stepped inside but became readily apparent with just a quick glance around. It appeared to be a mix of a barrack and rec room, half-finished beds, study but plain tables and chairs, and other half done, dropped, woodworking projects littered the long hall. Like the Onslaught had been midway through construction only to remember that they no longer needed the amenities of the living.
Regardless, I found Gothik warming himself by the small fire he had started in the large firepit indented into the center of the room. Pulling up a seat I sat across from him, watching as he warmed his hands. "I see your forces are settling nicely."
He said nothing, merely kept warming his hands by the flame.
I tried again. "You seem… fond of Razuvious, Archmage. I suppose you two have history with one another?"
After a long silence passed, I was left unsure what exactly I could say here. I had already laid hints at his feet about my true intentions and Gothik was many things but unintelligent was not one of them. Finally, he grunted. "One could say so." The silence stretched for longer, with the crackling of the fire and the whipping of the wind outside being our only noisy companions. "I believe it was in the Second War that he entered my service. I don't quite remember the circumstances behind it, it's been so long…" Finally, he dropped his hands, choosing rather to hunch over in his seat staring into the fire. "All I recall was he has served me since, even though I did not want him at first. He has been steadfast in all I asked of him"
What was I to say to that? How could I segue into anything from that?! Dammit.
"I see."
He raised his head to look me in the eye… or rather try to, I could see the minute movements of his eyes as they tried to focus on mine. "Do you?" He asked.
I was surprised, scouring my memory for something I missed in all our interactions. What was he talking about? "What do you mean?" We have distanced ourselves so far from what I thought we were going to talk about that I wasn't ready, where was this non-sequitur coming from?
"I was curious, you know, when Kel'Thuzad came to me. Proclaiming that his research had gone farther in the arts of summoning than any have." He paused and stroked his beard. "He said that his new spell would pull forth something beyond the Elementals, Demons of the Twisting Nether, beyond any had reached before. He claimed it even went beyond what Necromancy was capable of reaching in the Dead Realms."
Ah, so that's where he was going with it. Already multiple times I had been confronted over my supposed inhumanity, or rather lack of human origin. Human to them, at least. I held back a snort at the thought, on Bet everyone here would be considered as having powers- possibly not even being Humans, seeing that as even orphans can train so hard that they can literally meld with shadows. I thought of Razuvious and how some Death Knights just marveled at his strength in an 'oh I'll get there someday, too' sort of fashion rather than one of awe at his unique powers.
Still, I quirked my head and nodded. "Others have commented in line of such thoughts, yes."
He raised a brow at me answering the question he had been leading up to asking. "And?"
I decided to be truthful. If I felt like Gothik was going to betray me by the end of our conversation, I would just kill him. I was going to be betraying the Scourge soon enough for it to not matter. "You are correct. I am no Demon, no Elemental, nor do I remember existing in any 'Realm' of the Dead."
He stared intently at me. "Then what are you? You throw around magics never conceived. You think thoughts barely understood. For all of my praise that I can level toward Kel'Thuzad's skills, your soul shouldn't be so easily chained…"
I shrugged, how was I supposed to explain what I didn't know myself? Why had no one wielded Death as I did appear before now? Even the more simple 'spells' I had created like Deathbolt shouldn't be too difficult or taxing, after all, I cast that with barely the understanding of magic that I have now, with a fraction of the reserves to boot.
"Perhaps this world has just lacked a perspective like mine."
Gothik closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing. "That doesn't explain what you are, apprentice… No. I suppose I couldn't call you that now. You were never unlearned, just…" He paused and mulled his words. "Just unaware of your capabilities."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. Admit that I was winging it this whole time? No, Gothik was not a close comrade who I could share such information with, if he thought of me as an Alien Intelligence it was best to keep him guessing at my motives. Even if he does end up as an ally, he wasn't mine. If I can control how he thinks and reacts to me, it will keep me in a position of power over him.
Eventually, I settled on a plan. If Gothik thinks of me as an Alien Intelligence, then who am I to disabuse that notion? "It had been a long time since I was last awake. You mortals have advanced much in the study of magic since." There, something vague and yet true.
Gothik snorted. "That, that right there. Kel'Thuzad boasted mightily about what he 'fished' from what he believed to be the depth of the Twisting Nether, but you…" He chuckled, it was raspy and dry. "It was not so much fishing as it was throwing a lifeline was it?"
He smiled at me like he already knew the answer, and to be true he wasn't far off. I inclined my head, "Yes. He offered me a way back to reality in exchange for service."
He gazed sharply into me over the crackling fire that separated us. Eyes full of knowing, but asking anyway. "Services you are no longer interested in providing?"
I smiled. It was not a kind smile, not that he could see it. "Indeed." I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as I clearly remembered that moment. That blooming awareness of existence around me. Being asked a question that resonated with me so great I would have agreed with anything in exchange. 'Would you like to live again?' "At first I felt indebted to Kel'Thuzad, for waking me, for bringing me to this planet." I raised my ethereal arm and tilted my gaze down unto its currently skeletal existence. "I was curious, and complacent in my curiosity." My Partner's thrum of excitement and my own curiosity mixed together. Mind control colored the world and my inclinations. "All this while I asked myself, 'Why Not?. But, now," I clenched my ethereal fist and turned my attention back to Gothik, "But now I ask 'Why?' and I find my answers wanting."
And there it was, no more beating around the bush. I didn't have the time or patience to continue. I would find out here and now whether I would be forced to slaughter Gothik's forces or if they are a faction I could rely on for the future.
There was an extended silence between us. The fire merrily crackled as Gothik gazed into it, perhaps searching for an answer, perhaps merely contemplating. Either way, my gaze bore into him. What were his thoughts? I couldn't help but wonder, was he calculating my chances versus the Scourge, his chances versus me? Or perhaps was he weighing the opportunity to gain more knowledge versus his waning loyalty toward Kel'Thuzad? Maybe it was all, maybe it was none.
Gothik's motivations were… hard to wrap my thoughts around. Many of the powerful people of this world, judging by my memories, seemed to be… off. Their origins may be similarly rooted in tragedy, as a motivational factor, as the Parahumans on Bet were, but the Parahumans on Bet were stunted mentally, unable to move past their trauma… for the most part no fault of their own. Stuck as they were by their Passenger squeezing them for information.
Psychology ended up being far more clear-cut on Bet, from what I remember of the books, and shared isolation made cultural changes more predictable. But here, on Azeroth, magic bridged the gaps in technology allowing for far more free travel than people in this era would have. Combined with the fact that there were multiple races, some not even from this planet…
Still, something told me that the 'Humans' of this planet were only superficially related to the Humans from Bet. In a world of Swords & Sorcery, of Dungeons & Dragons, I could only begin to guess at what would drive a man to join the ranks of the Undead… and then refuse to actually be Undead. Stereotypes failed me here, and Gothik was no undercover hero.
Hrm.
I suppose the same went for me.
I closed my eyes and ruminated on my new life. I…
I suppose that for Gothik I was the mystery he couldn't unravel. I was quite literally alien, with unknown motives, and for all that I had taken a 'human' form, my magic and methodologies must seem inscrutable to him. And here we were talking treason, deep behind Scourge lines, with neither of us having any guarantees or insight into the other's madness.
Finally, Gothik grunted and I opened my eyes to stare back into his. "When Kel'Thuzad first came to me, proclaiming his 'revolutionary' insights into that ritual of his, I had my doubts. Not that it wouldn't succeed, no. Kel'Thuzad, for all his faults is… was a brilliant man. Skilled in numerous fields with the intelligence and work ethic to back it." He broke eye contact to lean back and stare at the ceiling. "No, I had my doubts on the source of it. I had kept my peace for a long while. The Scourge gave me the opportunity to practice my craft without retaliation, so of course I took it. Kel'Thuzad was a good friend, I had no issues following him, especially as he left me out of the petty squabbling and politics."
Interesting, looking back on all my interactions with Kel'Thuzad he really did put others in between him and me. The few interactions we did have were ones where he reinforced our positions, and likely reinforced the mental strings he had me dance from. Retrospectively, it was odd that they would treat me like that, but now I knew what they knew: My arcane and ancient origins and the dubious origins of the spell that found me. "But…?"
He turned his head back to me and gave me a full grin, his yellowed teeth a contrast to his bone-white beard. "He was careful. Used intermediaries to pull you through. Crafted a body laid with as much magical binding as he knew," He chuckled again as he leaned back, "I even helped, contributing my mastery to the construction of the body. Spells after spells layered on each other to bind your body, mind, and soul. He assured me that whatever he brought forth would be entirely under his command."
I said nothing. I was thankful for the new cover my clothes provided me as my normally dulled emotions ran wild. To know the man before me contributed to my Mastering… There was a flicker of something in Gothik before I reigned myself in. "It didn't work." I bit out.
He hummed, "No, it didn't. I received reports about how your body was struggling to contain your power, eroding away at the shell with every moment you spent locked in it until finally, you shattered the shell as a side-effect of whatever spell you cast in the Borean Tundra." He laughed a low self-deprecating laugh and shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "Decades of the study of magic, nigh endless access to resources, a ley-line tap to provide all the power we needed…" He slumped in on himself and closed his eyes. "And I don't think you even noticed."
What was I supposed to say to that? Sorry, your decades of knowledge weren't enough to Master me? Apologies for steamrolling over your attempts at turning me into a puppet? Still, it sounded like this was a lead-up to him joining me. I may as well console him that he's just going to be joining the ranks of the many people who underestimated me.
"Don't be so down, Gothik, you aren't the first and you will not be the last in a long line of those who thought themselves prepared for me."
There was another long pause as he gazed at me, searching for something before he finally nodded. "Quite. It is why I never sought lichdom. I would endure through my own research, or would not. Now… Now I am glad I did not, there is something wrong with the liches."
I blinked in surprise. Gothik seemed to be jumping from topic to topic without rhyme or reason, but I think I was starting to understand. I believe he was freely giving me information to see my reactions to try and figure me out. Despite the fact I had shadowed myself under a cover of Death he seemed nonplussed about it, acting like it didn't obfuscate his ability to read my soul at all. Which, I suppose, considering that my magic and soul were so deeply intertwined it was actually the opposite. Hrm.
Hopefully, it isn't something I have to practice reigning in, as just the thought made me feel stuffy and claustrophobic. I shivered minutely.
But still, I played my part and prompted him to continue, if he was going to share insights about the Scourge's leadership I would hardly stop him. "Oh? I know many of the liches I interacted with were overly prideful and egotistical but…" I trailed off, inviting him to keep going.
He turned his searching gaze into a solemn one as he went back to staring into the dying flame at our feet. "You must understand Wraith, that I am old by the lifespan of my species. Many of the liches now in the service to the Lich King were once apprentices or mages I knew from Dalaran. I knew what they were like before 'ascending'," He bit out that term with a sneer, telling me exactly what he thought about the process. "And while I was understanding that such a process would undoubtedly change a person… Looking back, they are too different. Kel'Thuzad's folly with Dragonblight was the final nail."
He sighed, "Truthfully? The Scourge has made enemies that I do not believe they will outlast. The Lich King's armies are vast, and while his commanders are scattered and his Necropoli shattered, the armies of the Living will be in for a grueling campaign to push into Icecrown proper. But it is a battle they will ultimately triumph in."
I nodded in understanding, it was the same logic I had thought of about the timing of my own betrayal. "You think the liches are compromised?"
"I know they are."
That was concerning. "By who? Do you think the Lich King is also being influenced? Or is he pulling strings to make them fail?"
Gothik suddenly stood and navigated his way around the pit stopping before me. "Unfortunately, the former. The Lich King and his commanders are being influenced at best, and at worst…" He grimaced. "The Scourge's power is shattered, in no small part because of you. Everyone and everything that has stood against you have not just been defeated, but utterly crushed."
"And now I stand before you. Not as a superior, or a Master," He said as he lowered himself, taking a knee before her, head bowed. "But as an old man, asking for clemency. Promise to protect me from the reprisals to come and I vow my service, and my loyalty. Teach me as a Master teaches an Apprentice and I shall in turn tutor those who seek my knowledge."
Ah, always a flair for the dramatics. I hesitated only for a moment, but was this not what I wanted? I had no illusion that Gothik hadn't done some truly horrific actions yet at the same time, I could hardly judge him. Not with my own sins on this world or Bet. I stood myself and put as much authority as I could in my reply. "Rise, Gothik, I hear your plea and accept your conditions. Now come, there is much to do."
He rose at my command, following behind me as I turned on my heel and walked back out into the snow of Icecrown. He cleared his throat. "I have a question, if you do not mind Lady Wraith." I paused and turned my head towards him, to show I was listening. The downside of being swaddled and concealed, I suppose, was that the microexpressions of human interaction were shadowed. "The clothing you wear… it is made of Death, is it not?"
"It is." I gave an exaggerated nod. "I suppose you wish to study it later, Gothik?"
Rather than an immediate affirmative, I received a snort of dismissal. "The amount of mana required to manifest permanent clothing from Arcane is already hideously expensive, especially considering when one can simply enchant the armor, or robes, with runes and reagents for a better product that won't simply disintegrate when hit with a Mana Burn or other Anti-Magic spells." A depreciating laugh echoed in the wooden hall. "To make cloth from Death instead…"
I rolled my eyes, glad he could barely see them. "I was told as much by another already, Gothik." When I didn't receive a response I turned to face him fully. Lost in his own little world, he didn't even register that I had said anything, and instead continued his muttered questioning.
"If such can occur with Death, then what of other Disciplines? Can Fel or Void do such things as well?" I watched as his eyes darted back and forth, no doubt as he mentally constructed his ideas in real-time. "The possibilities, and knowledge such a simple thing can unlock… I will need to confer with Antonidas later…"
Still… As much as he raised a good point, we had things to do and a burgeoning faction to run. "Gothik."
He jerked suddenly, his head snapping to me, eyes wide. He gave me a wide toothy smile. "Ah… My apologies Lady Wraith. It's been a long, long time since a breakthrough such as this has simply stumbled into being, and I got excited for a moment." I wanted to scoff or shake my head, while power-intensive these people had the ability to access and use leylines. Why had no one thought about this before? …is what I wanted to say but I read enough to know that oftentimes developments came about simply because someone finally asked the question. "So many discoveries await me now, I can feel it in my bones."
This time I did shake my head, I would always end up with the oddest teammates wouldn't I? Still… "Who is Antonidas?"
Gopthik grunted and I watched as his mood shifted to a more melancholic one. "A friend from my days amidst the mages of Dalaran. Someone, who on some days, was far wiser than I, though…" He drifted off as his gaze began to develop that far-off stare. "He remained rooted in traditional studies, and refused to continue seeking new knowledge, taking an apprentice to pass his torch to instead." He sighed and shook his head. "The fool misplaced his faith in his defenses, underestimating the might of the Scourge. He did not fall alone, but brought Dalaran with him during the Third War."
"So he is what, I presume another shade bound in service to you now?"
"Bound?" Gothik scoffed, "No. I merely brought his spirit back, to continue the pursuit that we both craved in our youth. I would not use him for war or fighting, even if it would mean my end."
That felt like a waste and an odd sentimentality. Especially from the man who previously showed nothing but callous disregard to nearly everyone… but I was not going to judge a Necromancer for bringing back his dead friend to reenact older, better, days. If the grave of my Mother was before me now… I kept my silence and that was the end of that line of conversation, our trek began again, as we exited the hall, continuing our walk past acolytes and Death Knights building their small tents and hovels.
"I wouldn't suppose you know the reason behind the quake of magic that echoed out shortly before your arrival, Lady Wraith." Though it was framed as a question, we both knew it was nothing but a statement. Something I was beginning to learn about this world was that very little, if anything, was a coincidence.
"You would be correct, Gothik. However." I paused as we trudged through the snow, or rather, as I noticed, melting my way through the snow. "Perhaps we can speak of this later? I am still studying its effects."
He acquiesced quickly. "Of course, My Lady, you have given me much to think about already."
"I have business at my Harbor to attend to. Once those matters are dealt with, we will discuss Death in more detail Gothik." I wanted to reassure him that I was the better choice. Imagine, all his knowledge for me to pick at. I smiled under my hood at the thought. I paused, mentally, I would need to extend some form of olive branch to him for the immediate time. Ah."Until then, I leave you in command of my port."
"I shall await your return, Lady Wraith. Suffer well."
In front of everyone, Gothik bowed to me as I ripped open another Death Gate, this one leading to the Harbor.
[Icemist Village - Saurfang]
"You look tired, Old Man! Spar with me and get your blood flowing! You need to shake off the rust I can see growing on your arms.." The words brought a smile to my face as I chuckled, getting up from the table showing positions and movements of forces.
"You have a long way to go before you can best me at my worst, pup." I stood up to my full height and felt pride that my son sized me up not out of petty pride or aggression but as a challenge to hone himself with. Truly, I did not deserve such a fine son, not after what I had been a part of… but I would treasure each and every day I could spend with my boy, even amidst this nightmare of a campaign.
Which, of course, was why I took up my axe and motioned for him to follow me to a sparring ring, the pup grinning as he rushed out first. I chuckled once more at his enthusiasm. Youth, ah, I still remembered those days of relative naivety, when the truth of War was not something I had fully grasped yet nor weighed upon my shoulders. I shook my head before leaving the tent housing my quarters, dispelling the depressing thoughts as I moved into the biting chill.
I took my time padding through the snow, giving acknowledgement to the Taunka and Horde soldiers that passed by me. It had been… a surprise to find Agmar was in diplomatic talks with the Taunka, the old Overlord was well known to be… stubborn, ruthless, and savage, with age having only made him more so. What was more surprising was the fact that the Taunka were willing to join the Horde after speaking with him only once, and thus we had a base of operations from which to push out of.
I could quite easily imagine what he said to them. Warhawk he may be, but there were hidden depths of charisma to the orc, and as long as he got results I would stay out of his way, just as he would mine. For now.
The Borean Incident reawakened something in the minds of the older veterans. A growing shadow of darker times, one that had the potential to infect the successor generations. I shook my head, dispelling the dark thoughts once more.
Icemist was… not what I expected when I was told it was a 'thriving capital'. Yet, given the barren and desolate nature of this land, much akin to Durotar in a way, I could understand where the Taunka's pride came from in surviving the harsh wilds and building such a village. It was no Ogrimmar, nothing was, but it held several thousand souls within it and a culture that had lasted the freezing hell of Northrend. It was more than just mere propaganda or empty words, I could see them becoming vital members of the Horde. Their chieftain Roanuak was an honorable warrior, and one I would gladly fight with side by side.
As I cast my gaze to watch the hard-at-work Peons, busy Grunts, and helpful Taunka around me I pondered our position in Northrend. Icemist was not the only progress the Horde had made towards securing our position, though it was the only one completely secure and able to accommodate our forces after the Invasion's failure to land at the Borean Tundra. While Icemist could handle supplies from Orgrimmar, the scale of war necessary required a more accessible means to attain such, especially with Darkspear and Bloodhoof reinforcements alongside Adventurers arriving by the week's end at the earliest. What remained of the Goblin engineers of the Vanguard's fleet were busy on the shore south of Icemist, transforming the blasted wastes into a proper harbor.
But it was in a state of razor's edge as elementals and undead ran rampant in a frenzy. I knew not what had caused the absolute madness, only that whatever had caused it had made it worse than the Blasted Lands somehow.
To the west, a fortress was being constructed to protect our flank from the Scourge of the Borean Tundra, led by Grommash's pup. He had taken his defeat far worse than he believed, the folly of youthful pride and his father's bloodlust running rampant in his veins, and was utterly consumed on reclaiming his 'honor'. At least compared to Grommash, the pup listened to reason and focused on a defensive strategy, and was building defenses on the single passage that connected Dragonblight and the Tundra.
I would need to see him soon, as much as his role had shifted from 'Overlord of the Expedition' to just a 'Warlord', Thrall had asked me to look after and teach the pup. While his pride was still strong, the disaster of the Borean Incident gave him a burning focus that could make him as great as his father. It just remained to be seen if the lessons would stick.
The last… our eastern edge. I sighed. A second fortress, near one of the 'Dragonshrines', was being built with all haste, faster than even the other two locations being built up due to the absolute catastrophe that occurred. Much like the arcane madness on the shore, the area surrounding the dragon's 'Wyrmrest Tower' now truly deserved the name of 'Dragonblight'.
Whatever had occurred at that massive tower between its denizens and the Scourge, it had caused an apocalypse the likes of which I had never seen. Even from miles away, you could see the absolute madness as elementals, undead and other assorted monstrosities fought one another and spilled out into the world. Were it not for the terrain being in our favor to hold them, and that only stragglers made it out of the blighted chaos, the Horde would have lost the fortress site completely with how incessant and powerful the creatures were.
Even then, we were almost overwhelmed were it not for aid from a band of Dragons destroying the encroaching maddened elementals of the third assault.
The Dragons that came to aid us were… pitiful compared to my experiences in the prior War, even compared to the time they were broken by the Dragonmaw clan. Their majesty was missing, and the aura of power each held was dimmed. They were Dragons, yes, but the majority were weary, and many held scars of battle and open wounds. As it stood, they kept to the 'Dragonshrine' below Agmar's Hammer, though for how long was up to debate.
Once Agmar was finished speaking with the Taunka elders and chieftain, I would see about getting him to speak with the Dragons, both Dranosh and I were too busy with our future duties to play diplomat. And there was a small, shameful, part of me that knew that Agmar's brutal and savage mindset would likely appeal to the Dragons more right now.
But that was for later, I could only hope there would be a way to recover from the damage done. I dismissed my heavy thought, I would come to that bridge when it was time to cross it, for now, it was time to enjoy something important to me.
I stepped down into the fighting pit with slow and purposeful steps as my son waited eagerly, the battleaxe I'd given him gripped in both hands. He stood resolute, missing most of his armor sans the gorget around his neck, completely and utterly prepared for whatever came at him. I was little better, clad in just simple clothes and holding my own axe, forged back in the fires of Blackrock before Gorgrond was decimated.
Youngbloods and grizzled veterans both gathered around the pit, the former cheering on Dranosh, and the latter quietly looking to me to put them in their place, as we squared up across from one another. I knew the outcome of the fight before it started, as hard as my son trained and as proud as he made me. It would not be enough. As blooded as he was, as much of a prodigy he was - possibly as great as even Broxigar was at his age - there were some things that could not be learned from skirmishes and duels. But this was not a challenge to my authority, this was no Mak'Gora, I would drag out this fight both to test my son and enjoy my time with him.
He was still a boy, my boy, and had much to learn. He would have many years to grow, I would make sure of that.
The spar was over quickly.
He charged without warning and swung with strength and speed towards my chest, hoping for a quick and decisive victory. I parried the blow with the haft of my axe without any effort, and as he stumbled I slammed my knee into his gut and smashed my fist into his face, and sent him to the ground. The crowd was, by the standards of orcs, silent at the display, the veterans snorted and quietly chuckled as they exchanged coins, no doubt amused, while the youngbloods grumbled as they were humbled.
Open laughter broke through as Dranosh sat up from the ground, wiping his face with a hand before gripping my offered hand without hesitation. Hauling him to his feet, I let go and settled back into another stance, while the pup did the same. And then we started again, a simple and relaxing affair after the stress of the past week.
Slash. Dodge. Chop. Parry. Block. Kick. Trip. Punch. Again and again, Dranosh fell but quickly stood again.
Eventually, we stopped, as the pup simply couldn't keep up with me after falling to the ground time after time, but we both were content with such. Picking him up, I shoulder led the young warrior out of the pit and to a relatively secluded space so that we could speak with one another. Placing my weapon in front of me, I grabbed a cloth and started the long and arduous process of maintaining the weapon, Dranosh following suit with his own after catching his breath.
"Tell me, how goes your efforts?"
Dranosh paused in his cleaning, giving me his full attention as he laid his weapon to the side. "It goes as well as can be, Father." I gave a nod to his words and closed my eyes. "My forces are growing, and the sites we've chosen are being constructed as quickly as the supplies can allow."
Dranosh was given the honor of leading the eastern holdings we'd conquered from the wilderness and native creatures, a difficult task, and responsibility given the sheer amount of land needed to be defended, but one that he swore to uphold with the aid of the Kor'kron assigned with him. Given my involvement during the Shifting Sands, I was designated the liaison between the incoming Adventurers and the Expedition proper, something that was going to be a full-time endeavor I knew. With Garrosh taking care of the western flank, and Agmar in charge of logistics and the central fortifications, we did not lack for command and decisions.
"Once Agmar's Hammer is fully constructed, I will be having parties take care of the creatures spewing from that structure nearby. Then we can discuss with Agmar and Garrosh about our next move." Again I nodded, moving on to the next step of the maintenance as I did. "And what of you Father? How are your preparations?"
I snorted at the question, amusement welling up that I let bleed into the air. "I'd prefer facing Scourge over these reports and requests any day." A grimace crossed my face at the memory of the most recent request, some Adventurer trying to get access to new materials before we were even settled in. "One more request from an Enchanter and I'll be beating them into a pulp, having them healed, and then beating them again."
"They are…" He struggled to find a 'polite' way to state it, which I could understand considering several had saved his life from Broken back in Nagrand. "... Unique." We lapsed into silence, for a short while, finding peace and contentment in the simple act of cleaning one's weapon… It reminded me of the days Broxigar and I would spar in the shadows of Blackrock when we were pups ourselves enjoying a moment's respite from the Breakers.
It was a pleasant silence, one I rarely felt in over forty years… For a brief moment, I allowed myself to dream of a day where I could put my weapon down… only to discard the thought with a sad shake of my head. I was a Warrior of Blackrock.
I was Varok Saurfang.
I would not find peace except in my death, surrounded by the Horde's enemies. Only then would I find Remda's embrace again. The Borean Incident reminded me of that.
"Father?" I hummed in acknowledgment as I set my axe down at my side, the melancholy drifting away as I returned to the present. "Do you understand any of what is happening down at the harbor? Zaahapa mentioned something about 'Arcane' and 'Leylines' when I spoke to him earlier." Ah… the Harbor and its entire mess.
I sighed, getting to my feet and stretching my limbs before replying. "Beledrae Hotstar spoke far too much complicated terms for me to understand the entirety of the situation when I asked her." Damn Blood Elf magisters and their tendency to explain everything in the most round-about, fanciful, puffed-up manner without explaining anything. As if it was somehow my fault I did not have hundreds of years to devote to learning magic. "From what one of her apprentices told me shortly after, something tore open a magic artery and it's poisoning the surrounding area. Undead from the ruins nearby and arcane manifestations are the result, and while they claim they can decrease the intensity, they can't cleanse it fully until the 'leyline' stabilizes itself." I snorted. "However long that takes."
I shook my head and sighed as my son did the same, grumbling under his breath. "Of course it's something that can't be fixed." The sentiment was shared between the both of us… magic made things far more complicated than it needed to be, always did. "And how long do they suspect that we'll be having to deal with such matters, Father? We cannot afford our manpower to be tied up with Elementals and the wildlife."
"They're expecting it to fix itself in a year." A low groan sounded from Dranosh, voicing both of our frustrations out with the entire situation, and because of course it couldn't end there, "As well, it is supposedly so volatile right now that if they try to force anything the entire thing will explode and cause it and the surrounding area to go up in flames." I paused. "Probably."
Truly… it was a lose-lose situation.
I grumbled as I picked up my axe and stood up, my bones popping softly as I did. "There is nothing we can do about it, Dranosh. Focus on your duties instead of dwelling on what a good axe hit can't solve." I received a half-hearted nod in reply before I left to return to my duties. Some things just couldn't be dealt with, and we had to live with it until it stopped being a problem one way or another.
There was far too much left to do, and nowhere near enough time or resources to get everything set up and functioning by the time reinforcements and Adventurers arrived. At the least, the latter were largely self-sufficient so long as they had a place to return to and rest, which the Horde did not lack with the Taunka's aid. I just hoped that the last few reports on my table were not more requests for materials, and were something more sensible, such as the number and composition of forces they were bringing.
Laying down my weapon at the side of the table, I picked up the first of the four reports left, pausing at the seal of the Bloodhoof Tauren instead of any Adventurer Guild. There should have been no reason for such a missive to make its way to me, not when the Bloodhoof had already spoken with Thrall and made arrangements to send warriors already. Curiosity filled me for a scant few moments before I broke the seal and opened the scroll to read.
'Overlord Saurfang, it is with the deepest respect that I send this message to you in the northern reaches."'
I had… a bad feeling about this letter, but I pushed it aside and kept reading.
'I shall not mince words, the failure of the Horde at Borean is a blow that must be recovered from, for the sake of our home, our people and our very lives. The Grimtotem will not stand for such, and have pledged to aid the Horde in this time of need.'
My stomach fell at the mention of the Grimtotem, murderers, and thieves all, but I couldn't deny that they were efficient warriors and killers, something that would have served us well in Borean Tundra. This also let me know exactly who was sending this message, and while I was grateful for the aid, I would have to tread lightly to avoid being drawn into any of her schemes. It would be a three-fronted war for me now. Between Grarrosh and Agmar I felt there was already too much of a weight on the scale pushing us into ways best left behind. But now? With the Grimtotem coming in force? If nothing else, Orcs respected success, and additional forces from them would be a boon.
With their help… that success would be bought with a tax of blood no one sane would ever think to pay. How lucky was I, to be surrounded by people who would.
What a waste.
'As such, I have rallied several of my nephews and nieces to serve in your Expedition as leaders, and am sending five thousand warriors with them. By my intuition, they should arrive some time after your 'second wave' arrives.'
… How many Grimtotem!?
'Should there be any issues regarding them, you have my authority to send a message.
For the Horde.
-Magatha Grimtotem'
… Spirits I needed a drink.
[Wintergarde - Lynore]
I meandered my way through Wintergarde, which stood in stark contrast to how hard and fast we rode our Nightsaber companions to return from the scouting mission I led my Sentinels on. With my saber now stabled and being taken care of by the impressively skilled hands of my subordinates and human helpers, I was no longer able to race my way through the territory we held. My lips pursed at the thought of why exactly I was wandering. Wyrmbane was leading the ongoing battle from the front, as if the man would permit himself to be anywhere else, and did it well. But that left me in the inopportune position of not having an exact position for him to report to. It also left me in that unenviable position that I heard a human officer refer to as 'Hurrying up to wait, ma'am'.
The sound of cannon fire echoed from the battlefield, loud enough that it was ever-present even within the walls of the city. Even after a full week of constant fire, it still had me on edge when the dwarven-made cannons spat out their rounds before the wave of bodies smashed into our lines, but I was slowly getting used to their presence.
Elune Above, this invasion had turned for the worse. That cataclysmic battle over by the immense tower has turned Dragonblight from a mostly empty tundra into unending waves of the Dead and Corrupted.
The cannons did their job and did it well, but still, I would prefer glaive throwers instead. Comparatively noiseless and in my opinion far more effective at scything through mobs of foes, but between the special ammo taking up far more space and the training required to use one effectively… The crude dwarven cannons were deemed 'good enough' and that it was unneeded for us to pull any veteran teams from our own settlements. The protection of Night Elven settlements took priority over this campaign, especially when Quarterflash boasted that his machines would work just as well as any Night Elven war machine or Ancient.
While at first, I was unimpressed, I grudgingly had to admit he was correct in his boasts once they began to enhance their ammo, though it stung my pride to do so.
Regardless of my feelings on the matter, the dwarven cannons had that front covered.
If only that was all we had to deal with… I shook my head and sighed. The Onslaught to the south had not taken the Alliance's reclamation of Wintergarde well and had sent wave after wave of elite soldiers and zealots to assault us. It was astounding, and more importantly disturbing, that the Onslaught had so many men that they could throw at us constantly in these mass assaults of theirs. The 7th and 3rd were holding the line well as far as I could tell, my duties having kept me largely distant from the fighting, but the sheer number of Onslaught meant more men had to be funneled into the battlefield just to keep up with them.
From what I understood of the battlefield, Wyrmbane would try to counterattack soon to give breathing room to the artillery and archers, especially with the ammo shortage that was starting to worsen. That said, the last time I spoke to him was three days ago, just after the start of the non-stop battle, when he'd given me and my sentinels orders to scout the area north of Wintergarde for anything of interest.
We found little, some locations for possible future outposts to defend the north of Wintergarde and half-built ruins from the time of the 1st Legion. No Scourge fortresses or camps, no secret Necropoli… nothing but lifeless wastes and forests… and an eerie feeling coming from farther north. Unfortunately, we also found Trolls, lots of Frost Troll scouts that were easily dealt with, but the sheer number had forced me to stop patrols in that area, for the time being, leaving only the northwest and west to scout.
I was reluctant to send any sentinels off to explore in search of whatever caused that feeling alone, or even in a group, not after losing contact with Feathermoon a month ago, and with the Troll presence nearby I couldn't justify more than a handful to go explore what it was. It would have to wait until the Onslaught problem was dealt with and when there were troops able to move against the Trolls if they became a problem. Provided, of course, whatever it was didn't come charging down into our walls while we let it be. As it stood, I needed to talk with Wyrmbane about reinforcing the northern wall in the event that the Frost Trolls came marauding south after noticing Wintergarde was occupied again.
I didn't pay much attention to history, but from what I remembered, these Trolls in particular were worse than the normal savagery associated with Trolls, second only to the Dark Trolls living beneath Hyjal in pure violence and cruelty. I would have to see that for myself, but even if the knowledge was exaggerated, the Frost Trolls were no mere tribe eking out an existence in the frozen wastes, they had a fully formed kingdom - and that was enough to make me cautious.
As for the other commanders of the 7th, Hallard was taking care of the wounded with his acolytes and medics, and anointing the dead with rituals to keep the Scourge from raising them, or at least having a harder time doing so. Urik was supposedly taking his riders to harass the Onslaught reinforcements, but I didn't know how well his mission was going with the sheer numbers, even Wildhammer Gryphonriders had limits. Then there was Vas, who was preoccupied with figuring out the happenings to our west, which we could see the tower it originated from.
I was definitely not sending my sentinels that way without backup, there were far too many risks associated there.
The last commanders were not as busy as the rest, though the two Paladins, Dawnbringer of the Argent Crusade and von Zeldig, were both engaged in talks regarding the Crusade and subjects surrounding it. I had no doubt that there would be a Crusader force heading towards the tower west of Wintergarde when the Crusade arrived in force if only to investigate what the Scourge had wrought on the area. Until then, however, both Paladins were planning, making stock of reagents and supplies, and keeping watch on the West from the Keep.
Lord Bolvar himself had yet to arrive, as the last I had heard, he would be traveling towards Wintergarde from Valgarde with members of the Argent Crusade when they arrived. But that information was weeks out of date, and updates from the east were uncommon for the moment, save that the 'Vyrkul' of Utgarde had been pushed into a deadlock and Valgarde was secured. There were still other foes between us and them however, so we would have to hold out until the path was clear and we could get our reinforcements.
It'd be easier if we had access to a harbor, but with the Onslaught in the way, the proposed safe haven for ships to the immediate south couldn't be built until they were dealt with, meaning we were stuck without reinforcements and supplies until then. I sighed, the only good news was we had enough food to last us several months, and the farmers were able to keep providing more despite the conditions.
My measured walk ended abruptly as a shadow crossed over me, instantly sending me on high alert. A look up made me tense as a great Red Dragon beat its wings and circled to land in front of me. That tense atmosphere did not dissipate, as while the Red Dragonflight famously were defenders of Life, they were still Dragons whose plans to protect Azeroth could always end with you on the chopping block. My thoughts raced as to why a Red Dragon would be appearing before me, now. The last Dragon that showed up was a Bronze that helped the 3rd on their flight over, revealing traitors in our midst and warning us of a great threat… Benevolent or not, Dragons brought with them tides of change and one landing in Wintergarde heralded something occurring. I lamented internally how Wyrmbane should've been the one to deal with this, him or one of the two Paladins… but to keep a Dragon waiting… Or to assume it didn't choose me… I sighed and it would take hours to get Wyrmbane, and I had no idea where the Paladins were.
Meaning I was the one that had to deal with this. Joy.
As I approached the Dragon, it shifted itself into a smaller form the moment it touched down, that of a female Quel'dorei, clad in plate armor covering most of her form save her head, blue eyes hard with depression that outweighed the despair that the 3rd Legion had arrived with. Despite that, she was graceful, as the Dragon strode up to me. She stopped just short of me and crossed her arms behind her back, much like one of those human court ladies I had the… displeasure of having to meet.
"I greet you, Mortal, though I wish it was under better circumstances. I am Cielstrasza, and I come on behalf of the Council to seek aid. Be grateful, for I have taken the time to meet with you in person." The Dragon gave a bow, every bit the polite and dignified individual despite her demeanor. But by Elune she was as haughty as a Quel'dorei. I restrained myself from making a snappish response, no matter how much it grated on me.
"Lynore Windstryke, Commander of the 7th Legion." My reply was short and to the point, as I saluted the Dragon, while also crushing my internal screaming over the image of me respectfully saluting a Quel'dorei. "You will have to wait for my superior to get any aid, and he is occupied."
TheQuel'dorei Dragon… promptly ignored my words and, if possible, had an even haughtier tone as she, by Elune, preened. "Lord Kalec has entrusted me with this mission personally." Oh wow, if only I knew who that was I would completely kowtow and drop everything to help with your task. "Arrangements must be made to accommodate him and his followers for their future efforts." I gave her a dull-eyed stare. But before my eyes, as she continued, the depression seemed to lift from her eyes, though she was much less focused on me than I was on her.
With that said, I wanted to punch theQuel'dorei Dragon in the face.
I was about to reply, when she cut me off, continuing without even bothering to let me get a word in or tell her I was the wrong person to be saying this to. "Help us in our endeavors Mortal, and we shall assist you against the Scourge until the last ghoul is nothing but charred ash." There was a moment of silence as she stopped, eyes closing as she smiled in self-satisfaction… making the comparison to a court lady far more accurate, which shouldn't have surprised me in the beginning. It was almost like she expected me to thank her for her 'aid' when she thrust it and her 'requests' on me. Like they shouldn't already be assisting us against a threat like the Scourge.
My eye twitched. Do not. Commit suicide. By Dragon.
Turning on my heel, I started marching away to find someone else to deal with this… this. "Wa- W-wait! Where are you going!? Why aren't you thanking me?!" The Dragon sounded both confused and panicked at my retreat, and if the footsteps behind me were any indication, she was chasing after me and wasn't prepared at all for the possibility that someone would just walk away.
I didn't even look at her as I spoke, my annoyance very clear with the situation. "Finding someone else to deal with you and your request." I heard an intake of air behind me, as she got ready to speak, and so I turned, leveling a glare at the being that could crush me with a single limb, freezing her in place as I continued. "You can either be silent and follow, or you can wait here. It has been a long week, I just got back from scouting nonstop for three days. And quite frankly I don't care if you were an Aspect or the High Priestess." The Dragon was silent, eyes wide in shock as I turned around and continued walking to find von Zeorig or Wyrmbane.
My talk with Wyrmbane about the Trolls would have to wait. After this, I needed to cool down by butchering some savages, undead, or zealots until I wasn't going to stab someone I shouldn't.
Damn it all, I still had to send a letter to General Feathermoon that her daughter was missing as well, which just added to my workload. I'd rather be in Silithus than this Frozen Hellhole of a Continent.
At least there all you had to do was stab your problems and they had the decency to stay dead.
Sneaky AN:here we go, things are finally moving again both in story and irl, next chap is going to be tanya and her big to eat, i mean meet, the forces of Abyss.
Grey AN: Go to post this, and I find multiple errors. Well done Grey+Sneaky, you did it again.
Grey AN: Stress? No. Nothing that severe. Does Sneaky get amusement out of my reaction to it and the popularity of Scarab? Yes.
[Wraith's Landing - Northern Coast of Icecrown]
Stepping out into the snow and harsh winds of my Port, I was instantly captivated by how quickly a new section had appeared within it.
Nestled by the ramp down to the sea, opposite the warehouses full of materials, were circles of acolytes and Death Knights steadily creating temporary buildings and setting up scaffolding for themselves. Tents of fur, an unfinished building of stone and metal, and even a small wooden fence was set up in a similar manner to the sparring pit that the Corrupted Blood had. It also looked like they had done a fair job at clearing the infinitely piling snow along with setting up bonfires in their dedicated area. I found myself perplexed at how little progress Gothik's forces had made in setting up their own structures. The Death Knights were far stronger than the average Onslaught worker and being Undead they needed no rest or concern for temperature.
Looking towards the warehouses, I understood why so little progress was made, as I found my Onslaught builders focusing on everything but Gothik's forces. Which made some sense to a degree given their prior relationship, and the fact I hadn't raised any of Gothik's men - there was no debt to be loyal to me. That wasn't to say they weren't giving his men materials when they came over, but the Onslaught certainly weren't helping them build anything and seemed to be doing anything possible to delay distribution.
I frowned in thought and dragged my eyes across the activity present. I was unsure if I should do anything about the hostility present between the two groups, as I had no idea how long I wanted to keep Gothik around. Or maybe I should say I was unsure how long it was until Gothik was forced to choose between loyalty to the Scourge or swearing himself to me. It was then I noticed, Razuvious? I believe that was what his name was. I noticed him dragging an entire sled's worth of stone piled higher than I was tall by himself with an odd double chain setup attached to the sled. Considering that I'd seen my Onslaught struggle to move the stones with two of them at a third of that height… I believe I was justified in staring at the spectacle as he made it seem like the only reason there wasn't more stone was because the sled wouldn't take it.
I had a suspicion I was right.
"Razuvious is a wonder, is he not?" I turned around in response to Gothik's voice, finding him striding up to my side and staring at the man who very well may have trained his way into a Brute 8 or 9 rating. "There has yet to be a day that I regret taking him into my service, and he has more than earned his place." I stayed silent as the old man shook his head lightly then focused on me, gaze sharp and intent. "I suppose we have much to talk about, Apprentice. I may be old, but I am not blind."
"Indeed." I paused and gave some thought to how to go about handling this. On one hand, Gothik was competent and his forces were powerful, on the other hand, Gothik was competent and his forces were powerful. Would any opinions of me triumph over any loyalty to the Scourge he may have? Any resources I spent on him now may ultimately be turned on me later, yet… Gothik seemed… amicable. Kel'Thuzad betrayed him, even if unintentionally. The Lich King as far as I knew only ever really communicated with Kel'Thuzad or other high-level commanders.
My own interactions with him were positive but there was a clear power imbalance between them, who knew how he would react to me… changing those terms. Ultimately, it came full circle. Gothik was competent and if I had the chance to turn him before I decided to take on the Scourge it was best to extend that olive branch now.
"How is your faction holding up? Is there anything you need that the Onslaught isn't currently dispensing to you?"
He gave a low, light, chuckle. "Most of what we need has been taken care of already Apprentice." He gestured to the mostly barren Port, it was little more than a collection of storehouses and defenses. "There is ample space for the various structures we will eventually need." He stroked his beard in thought. "The Plague Cauldrons are the only thing we cannot build ourselves with what's here, and that's solely from a lack of magical reagents and ingredients."
I decided this was a good segue into testing the waters of his loyalties. "I wouldn't worry too much about the Plague Cauldrons, we won't be needing them." Like hell I was allowing those foul things into my bases. Not only would it be bad PR, but I truly had no need of them. I could deal Death and raise whomever I wanted to without the added assistance the Plagues could give me.
Gothik merely leveled me with a lidded gaze. After a moment of silence passed between us, he finally responded, "Perhaps we should take this to someplace with a seat? You do not appear to have rested once since Wyrmrest."
While that was a mild, neutral response, it spoke volumes. Like that for one he didn't immediately call out to take up arms against someone who just hinted at the possibility that they were planning on betraying the Scourge.
I gave him a sharp nod. "Of course." Without further words, he turned and began walking towards a low-traffic building. One whose purpose I hadn't divined by the time I stepped inside but became readily apparent with just a quick glance around. It appeared to be a mix of a barrack and rec room, half-finished beds, study but plain tables and chairs, and other half done, dropped, woodworking projects littered the long hall. Like the Onslaught had been midway through construction only to remember that they no longer needed the amenities of the living.
Regardless, I found Gothik warming himself by the small fire he had started in the large firepit indented into the center of the room. Pulling up a seat I sat across from him, watching as he warmed his hands. "I see your forces are settling nicely."
He said nothing, merely kept warming his hands by the flame.
I tried again. "You seem… fond of Razuvious, Archmage. I suppose you two have history with one another?"
After a long silence passed, I was left unsure what exactly I could say here. I had already laid hints at his feet about my true intentions and Gothik was many things but unintelligent was not one of them. Finally, he grunted. "One could say so." The silence stretched for longer, with the crackling of the fire and the whipping of the wind outside being our only noisy companions. "I believe it was in the Second War that he entered my service. I don't quite remember the circumstances behind it, it's been so long…" Finally, he dropped his hands, choosing rather to hunch over in his seat staring into the fire. "All I recall was he has served me since, even though I did not want him at first. He has been steadfast in all I asked of him"
What was I to say to that? How could I segue into anything from that?! Dammit.
"I see."
He raised his head to look me in the eye… or rather try to, I could see the minute movements of his eyes as they tried to focus on mine. "Do you?" He asked.
I was surprised, scouring my memory for something I missed in all our interactions. What was he talking about? "What do you mean?" We have distanced ourselves so far from what I thought we were going to talk about that I wasn't ready, where was this non-sequitur coming from?
"I was curious, you know, when Kel'Thuzad came to me. Proclaiming that his research had gone farther in the arts of summoning than any have." He paused and stroked his beard. "He said that his new spell would pull forth something beyond the Elementals, Demons of the Twisting Nether, beyond any had reached before. He claimed it even went beyond what Necromancy was capable of reaching in the Dead Realms."
Ah, so that's where he was going with it. Already multiple times I had been confronted over my supposed inhumanity, or rather lack of human origin. Human to them, at least. I held back a snort at the thought, on Bet everyone here would be considered as having powers- possibly not even being Humans, seeing that as even orphans can train so hard that they can literally meld with shadows. I thought of Razuvious and how some Death Knights just marveled at his strength in an 'oh I'll get there someday, too' sort of fashion rather than one of awe at his unique powers.
Still, I quirked my head and nodded. "Others have commented in line of such thoughts, yes."
He raised a brow at me answering the question he had been leading up to asking. "And?"
I decided to be truthful. If I felt like Gothik was going to betray me by the end of our conversation, I would just kill him. I was going to be betraying the Scourge soon enough for it to not matter. "You are correct. I am no Demon, no Elemental, nor do I remember existing in any 'Realm' of the Dead."
He stared intently at me. "Then what are you? You throw around magics never conceived. You think thoughts barely understood. For all of my praise that I can level toward Kel'Thuzad's skills, your soul shouldn't be so easily chained…"
I shrugged, how was I supposed to explain what I didn't know myself? Why had no one wielded Death as I did appear before now? Even the more simple 'spells' I had created like Deathbolt shouldn't be too difficult or taxing, after all, I cast that with barely the understanding of magic that I have now, with a fraction of the reserves to boot.
"Perhaps this world has just lacked a perspective like mine."
Gothik closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing. "That doesn't explain what you are, apprentice… No. I suppose I couldn't call you that now. You were never unlearned, just…" He paused and mulled his words. "Just unaware of your capabilities."
I wasn't sure what to say to that. Admit that I was winging it this whole time? No, Gothik was not a close comrade who I could share such information with, if he thought of me as an Alien Intelligence it was best to keep him guessing at my motives. Even if he does end up as an ally, he wasn't mine. If I can control how he thinks and reacts to me, it will keep me in a position of power over him.
Eventually, I settled on a plan. If Gothik thinks of me as an Alien Intelligence, then who am I to disabuse that notion? "It had been a long time since I was last awake. You mortals have advanced much in the study of magic since." There, something vague and yet true.
Gothik snorted. "That, that right there. Kel'Thuzad boasted mightily about what he 'fished' from what he believed to be the depth of the Twisting Nether, but you…" He chuckled, it was raspy and dry. "It was not so much fishing as it was throwing a lifeline was it?"
He smiled at me like he already knew the answer, and to be true he wasn't far off. I inclined my head, "Yes. He offered me a way back to reality in exchange for service."
He gazed sharply into me over the crackling fire that separated us. Eyes full of knowing, but asking anyway. "Services you are no longer interested in providing?"
I smiled. It was not a kind smile, not that he could see it. "Indeed." I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as I clearly remembered that moment. That blooming awareness of existence around me. Being asked a question that resonated with me so great I would have agreed with anything in exchange. 'Would you like to live again?' "At first I felt indebted to Kel'Thuzad, for waking me, for bringing me to this planet." I raised my ethereal arm and tilted my gaze down unto its currently skeletal existence. "I was curious, and complacent in my curiosity." My Partner's thrum of excitement and my own curiosity mixed together. Mind control colored the world and my inclinations. "All this while I asked myself, 'Why Not?. But, now," I clenched my ethereal fist and turned my attention back to Gothik, "But now I ask 'Why?' and I find my answers wanting."
And there it was, no more beating around the bush. I didn't have the time or patience to continue. I would find out here and now whether I would be forced to slaughter Gothik's forces or if they are a faction I could rely on for the future.
There was an extended silence between us. The fire merrily crackled as Gothik gazed into it, perhaps searching for an answer, perhaps merely contemplating. Either way, my gaze bore into him. What were his thoughts? I couldn't help but wonder, was he calculating my chances versus the Scourge, his chances versus me? Or perhaps was he weighing the opportunity to gain more knowledge versus his waning loyalty toward Kel'Thuzad? Maybe it was all, maybe it was none.
Gothik's motivations were… hard to wrap my thoughts around. Many of the powerful people of this world, judging by my memories, seemed to be… off. Their origins may be similarly rooted in tragedy, as a motivational factor, as the Parahumans on Bet were, but the Parahumans on Bet were stunted mentally, unable to move past their trauma… for the most part no fault of their own. Stuck as they were by their Passenger squeezing them for information.
Psychology ended up being far more clear-cut on Bet, from what I remember of the books, and shared isolation made cultural changes more predictable. But here, on Azeroth, magic bridged the gaps in technology allowing for far more free travel than people in this era would have. Combined with the fact that there were multiple races, some not even from this planet…
Still, something told me that the 'Humans' of this planet were only superficially related to the Humans from Bet. In a world of Swords & Sorcery, of Dungeons & Dragons, I could only begin to guess at what would drive a man to join the ranks of the Undead… and then refuse to actually be Undead. Stereotypes failed me here, and Gothik was no undercover hero.
Hrm.
I suppose the same went for me.
I closed my eyes and ruminated on my new life. I…
I suppose that for Gothik I was the mystery he couldn't unravel. I was quite literally alien, with unknown motives, and for all that I had taken a 'human' form, my magic and methodologies must seem inscrutable to him. And here we were talking treason, deep behind Scourge lines, with neither of us having any guarantees or insight into the other's madness.
Finally, Gothik grunted and I opened my eyes to stare back into his. "When Kel'Thuzad first came to me, proclaiming his 'revolutionary' insights into that ritual of his, I had my doubts. Not that it wouldn't succeed, no. Kel'Thuzad, for all his faults is… was a brilliant man. Skilled in numerous fields with the intelligence and work ethic to back it." He broke eye contact to lean back and stare at the ceiling. "No, I had my doubts on the source of it. I had kept my peace for a long while. The Scourge gave me the opportunity to practice my craft without retaliation, so of course I took it. Kel'Thuzad was a good friend, I had no issues following him, especially as he left me out of the petty squabbling and politics."
Interesting, looking back on all my interactions with Kel'Thuzad he really did put others in between him and me. The few interactions we did have were ones where he reinforced our positions, and likely reinforced the mental strings he had me dance from. Retrospectively, it was odd that they would treat me like that, but now I knew what they knew: My arcane and ancient origins and the dubious origins of the spell that found me. "But…?"
He turned his head back to me and gave me a full grin, his yellowed teeth a contrast to his bone-white beard. "He was careful. Used intermediaries to pull you through. Crafted a body laid with as much magical binding as he knew," He chuckled again as he leaned back, "I even helped, contributing my mastery to the construction of the body. Spells after spells layered on each other to bind your body, mind, and soul. He assured me that whatever he brought forth would be entirely under his command."
I said nothing. I was thankful for the new cover my clothes provided me as my normally dulled emotions ran wild. To know the man before me contributed to my Mastering… There was a flicker of something in Gothik before I reigned myself in. "It didn't work." I bit out.
He hummed, "No, it didn't. I received reports about how your body was struggling to contain your power, eroding away at the shell with every moment you spent locked in it until finally, you shattered the shell as a side-effect of whatever spell you cast in the Borean Tundra." He laughed a low self-deprecating laugh and shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "Decades of the study of magic, nigh endless access to resources, a ley-line tap to provide all the power we needed…" He slumped in on himself and closed his eyes. "And I don't think you even noticed."
What was I supposed to say to that? Sorry, your decades of knowledge weren't enough to Master me? Apologies for steamrolling over your attempts at turning me into a puppet? Still, it sounded like this was a lead-up to him joining me. I may as well console him that he's just going to be joining the ranks of the many people who underestimated me.
"Don't be so down, Gothik, you aren't the first and you will not be the last in a long line of those who thought themselves prepared for me."
There was another long pause as he gazed at me, searching for something before he finally nodded. "Quite. It is why I never sought lichdom. I would endure through my own research, or would not. Now… Now I am glad I did not, there is something wrong with the liches."
I blinked in surprise. Gothik seemed to be jumping from topic to topic without rhyme or reason, but I think I was starting to understand. I believe he was freely giving me information to see my reactions to try and figure me out. Despite the fact I had shadowed myself under a cover of Death he seemed nonplussed about it, acting like it didn't obfuscate his ability to read my soul at all. Which, I suppose, considering that my magic and soul were so deeply intertwined it was actually the opposite. Hrm.
Hopefully, it isn't something I have to practice reigning in, as just the thought made me feel stuffy and claustrophobic. I shivered minutely.
But still, I played my part and prompted him to continue, if he was going to share insights about the Scourge's leadership I would hardly stop him. "Oh? I know many of the liches I interacted with were overly prideful and egotistical but…" I trailed off, inviting him to keep going.
He turned his searching gaze into a solemn one as he went back to staring into the dying flame at our feet. "You must understand Wraith, that I am old by the lifespan of my species. Many of the liches now in the service to the Lich King were once apprentices or mages I knew from Dalaran. I knew what they were like before 'ascending'," He bit out that term with a sneer, telling me exactly what he thought about the process. "And while I was understanding that such a process would undoubtedly change a person… Looking back, they are too different. Kel'Thuzad's folly with Dragonblight was the final nail."
He sighed, "Truthfully? The Scourge has made enemies that I do not believe they will outlast. The Lich King's armies are vast, and while his commanders are scattered and his Necropoli shattered, the armies of the Living will be in for a grueling campaign to push into Icecrown proper. But it is a battle they will ultimately triumph in."
I nodded in understanding, it was the same logic I had thought of about the timing of my own betrayal. "You think the liches are compromised?"
"I know they are."
That was concerning. "By who? Do you think the Lich King is also being influenced? Or is he pulling strings to make them fail?"
Gothik suddenly stood and navigated his way around the pit stopping before me. "Unfortunately, the former. The Lich King and his commanders are being influenced at best, and at worst…" He grimaced. "The Scourge's power is shattered, in no small part because of you. Everyone and everything that has stood against you have not just been defeated, but utterly crushed."
"And now I stand before you. Not as a superior, or a Master," He said as he lowered himself, taking a knee before her, head bowed. "But as an old man, asking for clemency. Promise to protect me from the reprisals to come and I vow my service, and my loyalty. Teach me as a Master teaches an Apprentice and I shall in turn tutor those who seek my knowledge."
Ah, always a flair for the dramatics. I hesitated only for a moment, but was this not what I wanted? I had no illusion that Gothik hadn't done some truly horrific actions yet at the same time, I could hardly judge him. Not with my own sins on this world or Bet. I stood myself and put as much authority as I could in my reply. "Rise, Gothik, I hear your plea and accept your conditions. Now come, there is much to do."
He rose at my command, following behind me as I turned on my heel and walked back out into the snow of Icecrown. He cleared his throat. "I have a question, if you do not mind Lady Wraith." I paused and turned my head towards him, to show I was listening. The downside of being swaddled and concealed, I suppose, was that the microexpressions of human interaction were shadowed. "The clothing you wear… it is made of Death, is it not?"
"It is." I gave an exaggerated nod. "I suppose you wish to study it later, Gothik?"
Rather than an immediate affirmative, I received a snort of dismissal. "The amount of mana required to manifest permanent clothing from Arcane is already hideously expensive, especially considering when one can simply enchant the armor, or robes, with runes and reagents for a better product that won't simply disintegrate when hit with a Mana Burn or other Anti-Magic spells." A depreciating laugh echoed in the wooden hall. "To make cloth from Death instead…"
I rolled my eyes, glad he could barely see them. "I was told as much by another already, Gothik." When I didn't receive a response I turned to face him fully. Lost in his own little world, he didn't even register that I had said anything, and instead continued his muttered questioning.
"If such can occur with Death, then what of other Disciplines? Can Fel or Void do such things as well?" I watched as his eyes darted back and forth, no doubt as he mentally constructed his ideas in real-time. "The possibilities, and knowledge such a simple thing can unlock… I will need to confer with Antonidas later…"
Still… As much as he raised a good point, we had things to do and a burgeoning faction to run. "Gothik."
He jerked suddenly, his head snapping to me, eyes wide. He gave me a wide toothy smile. "Ah… My apologies Lady Wraith. It's been a long, long time since a breakthrough such as this has simply stumbled into being, and I got excited for a moment." I wanted to scoff or shake my head, while power-intensive these people had the ability to access and use leylines. Why had no one thought about this before? …is what I wanted to say but I read enough to know that oftentimes developments came about simply because someone finally asked the question. "So many discoveries await me now, I can feel it in my bones."
This time I did shake my head, I would always end up with the oddest teammates wouldn't I? Still… "Who is Antonidas?"
Gopthik grunted and I watched as his mood shifted to a more melancholic one. "A friend from my days amidst the mages of Dalaran. Someone, who on some days, was far wiser than I, though…" He drifted off as his gaze began to develop that far-off stare. "He remained rooted in traditional studies, and refused to continue seeking new knowledge, taking an apprentice to pass his torch to instead." He sighed and shook his head. "The fool misplaced his faith in his defenses, underestimating the might of the Scourge. He did not fall alone, but brought Dalaran with him during the Third War."
"So he is what, I presume another shade bound in service to you now?"
"Bound?" Gothik scoffed, "No. I merely brought his spirit back, to continue the pursuit that we both craved in our youth. I would not use him for war or fighting, even if it would mean my end."
That felt like a waste and an odd sentimentality. Especially from the man who previously showed nothing but callous disregard to nearly everyone… but I was not going to judge a Necromancer for bringing back his dead friend to reenact older, better, days. If the grave of my Mother was before me now… I kept my silence and that was the end of that line of conversation, our trek began again, as we exited the hall, continuing our walk past acolytes and Death Knights building their small tents and hovels.
"I wouldn't suppose you know the reason behind the quake of magic that echoed out shortly before your arrival, Lady Wraith." Though it was framed as a question, we both knew it was nothing but a statement. Something I was beginning to learn about this world was that very little, if anything, was a coincidence.
"You would be correct, Gothik. However." I paused as we trudged through the snow, or rather, as I noticed, melting my way through the snow. "Perhaps we can speak of this later? I am still studying its effects."
He acquiesced quickly. "Of course, My Lady, you have given me much to think about already."
"I have business at my Harbor to attend to. Once those matters are dealt with, we will discuss Death in more detail Gothik." I wanted to reassure him that I was the better choice. Imagine, all his knowledge for me to pick at. I smiled under my hood at the thought. I paused, mentally, I would need to extend some form of olive branch to him for the immediate time. Ah."Until then, I leave you in command of my port."
"I shall await your return, Lady Wraith. Suffer well."
In front of everyone, Gothik bowed to me as I ripped open another Death Gate, this one leading to the Harbor.
[Icemist Village - Saurfang]
"You look tired, Old Man! Spar with me and get your blood flowing! You need to shake off the rust I can see growing on your arms.." The words brought a smile to my face as I chuckled, getting up from the table showing positions and movements of forces.
"You have a long way to go before you can best me at my worst, pup." I stood up to my full height and felt pride that my son sized me up not out of petty pride or aggression but as a challenge to hone himself with. Truly, I did not deserve such a fine son, not after what I had been a part of… but I would treasure each and every day I could spend with my boy, even amidst this nightmare of a campaign.
Which, of course, was why I took up my axe and motioned for him to follow me to a sparring ring, the pup grinning as he rushed out first. I chuckled once more at his enthusiasm. Youth, ah, I still remembered those days of relative naivety, when the truth of War was not something I had fully grasped yet nor weighed upon my shoulders. I shook my head before leaving the tent housing my quarters, dispelling the depressing thoughts as I moved into the biting chill.
I took my time padding through the snow, giving acknowledgement to the Taunka and Horde soldiers that passed by me. It had been… a surprise to find Agmar was in diplomatic talks with the Taunka, the old Overlord was well known to be… stubborn, ruthless, and savage, with age having only made him more so. What was more surprising was the fact that the Taunka were willing to join the Horde after speaking with him only once, and thus we had a base of operations from which to push out of.
I could quite easily imagine what he said to them. Warhawk he may be, but there were hidden depths of charisma to the orc, and as long as he got results I would stay out of his way, just as he would mine. For now.
The Borean Incident reawakened something in the minds of the older veterans. A growing shadow of darker times, one that had the potential to infect the successor generations. I shook my head, dispelling the dark thoughts once more.
Icemist was… not what I expected when I was told it was a 'thriving capital'. Yet, given the barren and desolate nature of this land, much akin to Durotar in a way, I could understand where the Taunka's pride came from in surviving the harsh wilds and building such a village. It was no Ogrimmar, nothing was, but it held several thousand souls within it and a culture that had lasted the freezing hell of Northrend. It was more than just mere propaganda or empty words, I could see them becoming vital members of the Horde. Their chieftain Roanuak was an honorable warrior, and one I would gladly fight with side by side.
As I cast my gaze to watch the hard-at-work Peons, busy Grunts, and helpful Taunka around me I pondered our position in Northrend. Icemist was not the only progress the Horde had made towards securing our position, though it was the only one completely secure and able to accommodate our forces after the Invasion's failure to land at the Borean Tundra. While Icemist could handle supplies from Orgrimmar, the scale of war necessary required a more accessible means to attain such, especially with Darkspear and Bloodhoof reinforcements alongside Adventurers arriving by the week's end at the earliest. What remained of the Goblin engineers of the Vanguard's fleet were busy on the shore south of Icemist, transforming the blasted wastes into a proper harbor.
But it was in a state of razor's edge as elementals and undead ran rampant in a frenzy. I knew not what had caused the absolute madness, only that whatever had caused it had made it worse than the Blasted Lands somehow.
To the west, a fortress was being constructed to protect our flank from the Scourge of the Borean Tundra, led by Grommash's pup. He had taken his defeat far worse than he believed, the folly of youthful pride and his father's bloodlust running rampant in his veins, and was utterly consumed on reclaiming his 'honor'. At least compared to Grommash, the pup listened to reason and focused on a defensive strategy, and was building defenses on the single passage that connected Dragonblight and the Tundra.
I would need to see him soon, as much as his role had shifted from 'Overlord of the Expedition' to just a 'Warlord', Thrall had asked me to look after and teach the pup. While his pride was still strong, the disaster of the Borean Incident gave him a burning focus that could make him as great as his father. It just remained to be seen if the lessons would stick.
The last… our eastern edge. I sighed. A second fortress, near one of the 'Dragonshrines', was being built with all haste, faster than even the other two locations being built up due to the absolute catastrophe that occurred. Much like the arcane madness on the shore, the area surrounding the dragon's 'Wyrmrest Tower' now truly deserved the name of 'Dragonblight'.
Whatever had occurred at that massive tower between its denizens and the Scourge, it had caused an apocalypse the likes of which I had never seen. Even from miles away, you could see the absolute madness as elementals, undead and other assorted monstrosities fought one another and spilled out into the world. Were it not for the terrain being in our favor to hold them, and that only stragglers made it out of the blighted chaos, the Horde would have lost the fortress site completely with how incessant and powerful the creatures were.
Even then, we were almost overwhelmed were it not for aid from a band of Dragons destroying the encroaching maddened elementals of the third assault.
The Dragons that came to aid us were… pitiful compared to my experiences in the prior War, even compared to the time they were broken by the Dragonmaw clan. Their majesty was missing, and the aura of power each held was dimmed. They were Dragons, yes, but the majority were weary, and many held scars of battle and open wounds. As it stood, they kept to the 'Dragonshrine' below Agmar's Hammer, though for how long was up to debate.
Once Agmar was finished speaking with the Taunka elders and chieftain, I would see about getting him to speak with the Dragons, both Dranosh and I were too busy with our future duties to play diplomat. And there was a small, shameful, part of me that knew that Agmar's brutal and savage mindset would likely appeal to the Dragons more right now.
But that was for later, I could only hope there would be a way to recover from the damage done. I dismissed my heavy thought, I would come to that bridge when it was time to cross it, for now, it was time to enjoy something important to me.
I stepped down into the fighting pit with slow and purposeful steps as my son waited eagerly, the battleaxe I'd given him gripped in both hands. He stood resolute, missing most of his armor sans the gorget around his neck, completely and utterly prepared for whatever came at him. I was little better, clad in just simple clothes and holding my own axe, forged back in the fires of Blackrock before Gorgrond was decimated.
Youngbloods and grizzled veterans both gathered around the pit, the former cheering on Dranosh, and the latter quietly looking to me to put them in their place, as we squared up across from one another. I knew the outcome of the fight before it started, as hard as my son trained and as proud as he made me. It would not be enough. As blooded as he was, as much of a prodigy he was - possibly as great as even Broxigar was at his age - there were some things that could not be learned from skirmishes and duels. But this was not a challenge to my authority, this was no Mak'Gora, I would drag out this fight both to test my son and enjoy my time with him.
He was still a boy, my boy, and had much to learn. He would have many years to grow, I would make sure of that.
The spar was over quickly.
He charged without warning and swung with strength and speed towards my chest, hoping for a quick and decisive victory. I parried the blow with the haft of my axe without any effort, and as he stumbled I slammed my knee into his gut and smashed my fist into his face, and sent him to the ground. The crowd was, by the standards of orcs, silent at the display, the veterans snorted and quietly chuckled as they exchanged coins, no doubt amused, while the youngbloods grumbled as they were humbled.
Open laughter broke through as Dranosh sat up from the ground, wiping his face with a hand before gripping my offered hand without hesitation. Hauling him to his feet, I let go and settled back into another stance, while the pup did the same. And then we started again, a simple and relaxing affair after the stress of the past week.
Slash. Dodge. Chop. Parry. Block. Kick. Trip. Punch. Again and again, Dranosh fell but quickly stood again.
Eventually, we stopped, as the pup simply couldn't keep up with me after falling to the ground time after time, but we both were content with such. Picking him up, I shoulder led the young warrior out of the pit and to a relatively secluded space so that we could speak with one another. Placing my weapon in front of me, I grabbed a cloth and started the long and arduous process of maintaining the weapon, Dranosh following suit with his own after catching his breath.
"Tell me, how goes your efforts?"
Dranosh paused in his cleaning, giving me his full attention as he laid his weapon to the side. "It goes as well as can be, Father." I gave a nod to his words and closed my eyes. "My forces are growing, and the sites we've chosen are being constructed as quickly as the supplies can allow."
Dranosh was given the honor of leading the eastern holdings we'd conquered from the wilderness and native creatures, a difficult task, and responsibility given the sheer amount of land needed to be defended, but one that he swore to uphold with the aid of the Kor'kron assigned with him. Given my involvement during the Shifting Sands, I was designated the liaison between the incoming Adventurers and the Expedition proper, something that was going to be a full-time endeavor I knew. With Garrosh taking care of the western flank, and Agmar in charge of logistics and the central fortifications, we did not lack for command and decisions.
"Once Agmar's Hammer is fully constructed, I will be having parties take care of the creatures spewing from that structure nearby. Then we can discuss with Agmar and Garrosh about our next move." Again I nodded, moving on to the next step of the maintenance as I did. "And what of you Father? How are your preparations?"
I snorted at the question, amusement welling up that I let bleed into the air. "I'd prefer facing Scourge over these reports and requests any day." A grimace crossed my face at the memory of the most recent request, some Adventurer trying to get access to new materials before we were even settled in. "One more request from an Enchanter and I'll be beating them into a pulp, having them healed, and then beating them again."
"They are…" He struggled to find a 'polite' way to state it, which I could understand considering several had saved his life from Broken back in Nagrand. "... Unique." We lapsed into silence, for a short while, finding peace and contentment in the simple act of cleaning one's weapon… It reminded me of the days Broxigar and I would spar in the shadows of Blackrock when we were pups ourselves enjoying a moment's respite from the Breakers.
It was a pleasant silence, one I rarely felt in over forty years… For a brief moment, I allowed myself to dream of a day where I could put my weapon down… only to discard the thought with a sad shake of my head. I was a Warrior of Blackrock.
I was Varok Saurfang.
I would not find peace except in my death, surrounded by the Horde's enemies. Only then would I find Remda's embrace again. The Borean Incident reminded me of that.
"Father?" I hummed in acknowledgment as I set my axe down at my side, the melancholy drifting away as I returned to the present. "Do you understand any of what is happening down at the harbor? Zaahapa mentioned something about 'Arcane' and 'Leylines' when I spoke to him earlier." Ah… the Harbor and its entire mess.
I sighed, getting to my feet and stretching my limbs before replying. "Beledrae Hotstar spoke far too much complicated terms for me to understand the entirety of the situation when I asked her." Damn Blood Elf magisters and their tendency to explain everything in the most round-about, fanciful, puffed-up manner without explaining anything. As if it was somehow my fault I did not have hundreds of years to devote to learning magic. "From what one of her apprentices told me shortly after, something tore open a magic artery and it's poisoning the surrounding area. Undead from the ruins nearby and arcane manifestations are the result, and while they claim they can decrease the intensity, they can't cleanse it fully until the 'leyline' stabilizes itself." I snorted. "However long that takes."
I shook my head and sighed as my son did the same, grumbling under his breath. "Of course it's something that can't be fixed." The sentiment was shared between the both of us… magic made things far more complicated than it needed to be, always did. "And how long do they suspect that we'll be having to deal with such matters, Father? We cannot afford our manpower to be tied up with Elementals and the wildlife."
"They're expecting it to fix itself in a year." A low groan sounded from Dranosh, voicing both of our frustrations out with the entire situation, and because of course it couldn't end there, "As well, it is supposedly so volatile right now that if they try to force anything the entire thing will explode and cause it and the surrounding area to go up in flames." I paused. "Probably."
Truly… it was a lose-lose situation.
I grumbled as I picked up my axe and stood up, my bones popping softly as I did. "There is nothing we can do about it, Dranosh. Focus on your duties instead of dwelling on what a good axe hit can't solve." I received a half-hearted nod in reply before I left to return to my duties. Some things just couldn't be dealt with, and we had to live with it until it stopped being a problem one way or another.
There was far too much left to do, and nowhere near enough time or resources to get everything set up and functioning by the time reinforcements and Adventurers arrived. At the least, the latter were largely self-sufficient so long as they had a place to return to and rest, which the Horde did not lack with the Taunka's aid. I just hoped that the last few reports on my table were not more requests for materials, and were something more sensible, such as the number and composition of forces they were bringing.
Laying down my weapon at the side of the table, I picked up the first of the four reports left, pausing at the seal of the Bloodhoof Tauren instead of any Adventurer Guild. There should have been no reason for such a missive to make its way to me, not when the Bloodhoof had already spoken with Thrall and made arrangements to send warriors already. Curiosity filled me for a scant few moments before I broke the seal and opened the scroll to read.
'Overlord Saurfang, it is with the deepest respect that I send this message to you in the northern reaches."'
I had… a bad feeling about this letter, but I pushed it aside and kept reading.
'I shall not mince words, the failure of the Horde at Borean is a blow that must be recovered from, for the sake of our home, our people and our very lives. The Grimtotem will not stand for such, and have pledged to aid the Horde in this time of need.'
My stomach fell at the mention of the Grimtotem, murderers, and thieves all, but I couldn't deny that they were efficient warriors and killers, something that would have served us well in Borean Tundra. This also let me know exactly who was sending this message, and while I was grateful for the aid, I would have to tread lightly to avoid being drawn into any of her schemes. It would be a three-fronted war for me now. Between Grarrosh and Agmar I felt there was already too much of a weight on the scale pushing us into ways best left behind. But now? With the Grimtotem coming in force? If nothing else, Orcs respected success, and additional forces from them would be a boon.
With their help… that success would be bought with a tax of blood no one sane would ever think to pay. How lucky was I, to be surrounded by people who would.
What a waste.
'As such, I have rallied several of my nephews and nieces to serve in your Expedition as leaders, and am sending five thousand warriors with them. By my intuition, they should arrive some time after your 'second wave' arrives.'
… How many Grimtotem!?
'Should there be any issues regarding them, you have my authority to send a message.
For the Horde.
-Magatha Grimtotem'
… Spirits I needed a drink.
[Wintergarde - Lynore]
I meandered my way through Wintergarde, which stood in stark contrast to how hard and fast we rode our Nightsaber companions to return from the scouting mission I led my Sentinels on. With my saber now stabled and being taken care of by the impressively skilled hands of my subordinates and human helpers, I was no longer able to race my way through the territory we held. My lips pursed at the thought of why exactly I was wandering. Wyrmbane was leading the ongoing battle from the front, as if the man would permit himself to be anywhere else, and did it well. But that left me in the inopportune position of not having an exact position for him to report to. It also left me in that unenviable position that I heard a human officer refer to as 'Hurrying up to wait, ma'am'.
The sound of cannon fire echoed from the battlefield, loud enough that it was ever-present even within the walls of the city. Even after a full week of constant fire, it still had me on edge when the dwarven-made cannons spat out their rounds before the wave of bodies smashed into our lines, but I was slowly getting used to their presence.
Elune Above, this invasion had turned for the worse. That cataclysmic battle over by the immense tower has turned Dragonblight from a mostly empty tundra into unending waves of the Dead and Corrupted.
The cannons did their job and did it well, but still, I would prefer glaive throwers instead. Comparatively noiseless and in my opinion far more effective at scything through mobs of foes, but between the special ammo taking up far more space and the training required to use one effectively… The crude dwarven cannons were deemed 'good enough' and that it was unneeded for us to pull any veteran teams from our own settlements. The protection of Night Elven settlements took priority over this campaign, especially when Quarterflash boasted that his machines would work just as well as any Night Elven war machine or Ancient.
While at first, I was unimpressed, I grudgingly had to admit he was correct in his boasts once they began to enhance their ammo, though it stung my pride to do so.
Regardless of my feelings on the matter, the dwarven cannons had that front covered.
If only that was all we had to deal with… I shook my head and sighed. The Onslaught to the south had not taken the Alliance's reclamation of Wintergarde well and had sent wave after wave of elite soldiers and zealots to assault us. It was astounding, and more importantly disturbing, that the Onslaught had so many men that they could throw at us constantly in these mass assaults of theirs. The 7th and 3rd were holding the line well as far as I could tell, my duties having kept me largely distant from the fighting, but the sheer number of Onslaught meant more men had to be funneled into the battlefield just to keep up with them.
From what I understood of the battlefield, Wyrmbane would try to counterattack soon to give breathing room to the artillery and archers, especially with the ammo shortage that was starting to worsen. That said, the last time I spoke to him was three days ago, just after the start of the non-stop battle, when he'd given me and my sentinels orders to scout the area north of Wintergarde for anything of interest.
We found little, some locations for possible future outposts to defend the north of Wintergarde and half-built ruins from the time of the 1st Legion. No Scourge fortresses or camps, no secret Necropoli… nothing but lifeless wastes and forests… and an eerie feeling coming from farther north. Unfortunately, we also found Trolls, lots of Frost Troll scouts that were easily dealt with, but the sheer number had forced me to stop patrols in that area, for the time being, leaving only the northwest and west to scout.
I was reluctant to send any sentinels off to explore in search of whatever caused that feeling alone, or even in a group, not after losing contact with Feathermoon a month ago, and with the Troll presence nearby I couldn't justify more than a handful to go explore what it was. It would have to wait until the Onslaught problem was dealt with and when there were troops able to move against the Trolls if they became a problem. Provided, of course, whatever it was didn't come charging down into our walls while we let it be. As it stood, I needed to talk with Wyrmbane about reinforcing the northern wall in the event that the Frost Trolls came marauding south after noticing Wintergarde was occupied again.
I didn't pay much attention to history, but from what I remembered, these Trolls in particular were worse than the normal savagery associated with Trolls, second only to the Dark Trolls living beneath Hyjal in pure violence and cruelty. I would have to see that for myself, but even if the knowledge was exaggerated, the Frost Trolls were no mere tribe eking out an existence in the frozen wastes, they had a fully formed kingdom - and that was enough to make me cautious.
As for the other commanders of the 7th, Hallard was taking care of the wounded with his acolytes and medics, and anointing the dead with rituals to keep the Scourge from raising them, or at least having a harder time doing so. Urik was supposedly taking his riders to harass the Onslaught reinforcements, but I didn't know how well his mission was going with the sheer numbers, even Wildhammer Gryphonriders had limits. Then there was Vas, who was preoccupied with figuring out the happenings to our west, which we could see the tower it originated from.
I was definitely not sending my sentinels that way without backup, there were far too many risks associated there.
The last commanders were not as busy as the rest, though the two Paladins, Dawnbringer of the Argent Crusade and von Zeldig, were both engaged in talks regarding the Crusade and subjects surrounding it. I had no doubt that there would be a Crusader force heading towards the tower west of Wintergarde when the Crusade arrived in force if only to investigate what the Scourge had wrought on the area. Until then, however, both Paladins were planning, making stock of reagents and supplies, and keeping watch on the West from the Keep.
Lord Bolvar himself had yet to arrive, as the last I had heard, he would be traveling towards Wintergarde from Valgarde with members of the Argent Crusade when they arrived. But that information was weeks out of date, and updates from the east were uncommon for the moment, save that the 'Vyrkul' of Utgarde had been pushed into a deadlock and Valgarde was secured. There were still other foes between us and them however, so we would have to hold out until the path was clear and we could get our reinforcements.
It'd be easier if we had access to a harbor, but with the Onslaught in the way, the proposed safe haven for ships to the immediate south couldn't be built until they were dealt with, meaning we were stuck without reinforcements and supplies until then. I sighed, the only good news was we had enough food to last us several months, and the farmers were able to keep providing more despite the conditions.
My measured walk ended abruptly as a shadow crossed over me, instantly sending me on high alert. A look up made me tense as a great Red Dragon beat its wings and circled to land in front of me. That tense atmosphere did not dissipate, as while the Red Dragonflight famously were defenders of Life, they were still Dragons whose plans to protect Azeroth could always end with you on the chopping block. My thoughts raced as to why a Red Dragon would be appearing before me, now. The last Dragon that showed up was a Bronze that helped the 3rd on their flight over, revealing traitors in our midst and warning us of a great threat… Benevolent or not, Dragons brought with them tides of change and one landing in Wintergarde heralded something occurring. I lamented internally how Wyrmbane should've been the one to deal with this, him or one of the two Paladins… but to keep a Dragon waiting… Or to assume it didn't choose me… I sighed and it would take hours to get Wyrmbane, and I had no idea where the Paladins were.
Meaning I was the one that had to deal with this. Joy.
As I approached the Dragon, it shifted itself into a smaller form the moment it touched down, that of a female Quel'dorei, clad in plate armor covering most of her form save her head, blue eyes hard with depression that outweighed the despair that the 3rd Legion had arrived with. Despite that, she was graceful, as the Dragon strode up to me. She stopped just short of me and crossed her arms behind her back, much like one of those human court ladies I had the… displeasure of having to meet.
"I greet you, Mortal, though I wish it was under better circumstances. I am Cielstrasza, and I come on behalf of the Council to seek aid. Be grateful, for I have taken the time to meet with you in person." The Dragon gave a bow, every bit the polite and dignified individual despite her demeanor. But by Elune she was as haughty as a Quel'dorei. I restrained myself from making a snappish response, no matter how much it grated on me.
"Lynore Windstryke, Commander of the 7th Legion." My reply was short and to the point, as I saluted the Dragon, while also crushing my internal screaming over the image of me respectfully saluting a Quel'dorei. "You will have to wait for my superior to get any aid, and he is occupied."
The
With that said, I wanted to punch the
I was about to reply, when she cut me off, continuing without even bothering to let me get a word in or tell her I was the wrong person to be saying this to. "Help us in our endeavors Mortal, and we shall assist you against the Scourge until the last ghoul is nothing but charred ash." There was a moment of silence as she stopped, eyes closing as she smiled in self-satisfaction… making the comparison to a court lady far more accurate, which shouldn't have surprised me in the beginning. It was almost like she expected me to thank her for her 'aid' when she thrust it and her 'requests' on me. Like they shouldn't already be assisting us against a threat like the Scourge.
My eye twitched. Do not. Commit suicide. By Dragon.
Turning on my heel, I started marching away to find someone else to deal with this… this. "Wa- W-wait! Where are you going!? Why aren't you thanking me?!" The Dragon sounded both confused and panicked at my retreat, and if the footsteps behind me were any indication, she was chasing after me and wasn't prepared at all for the possibility that someone would just walk away.
I didn't even look at her as I spoke, my annoyance very clear with the situation. "Finding someone else to deal with you and your request." I heard an intake of air behind me, as she got ready to speak, and so I turned, leveling a glare at the being that could crush me with a single limb, freezing her in place as I continued. "You can either be silent and follow, or you can wait here. It has been a long week, I just got back from scouting nonstop for three days. And quite frankly I don't care if you were an Aspect or the High Priestess." The Dragon was silent, eyes wide in shock as I turned around and continued walking to find von Zeorig or Wyrmbane.
My talk with Wyrmbane about the Trolls would have to wait. After this, I needed to cool down by butchering some savages, undead, or zealots until I wasn't going to stab someone I shouldn't.
Damn it all, I still had to send a letter to General Feathermoon that her daughter was missing as well, which just added to my workload. I'd rather be in Silithus than this Frozen Hellhole of a Continent.
At least there all you had to do was stab your problems and they had the decency to stay dead.
Sneaky AN:here we go, things are finally moving again both in story and irl, next chap is going to be tanya and her big to eat, i mean meet, the forces of Abyss.
Grey AN: Go to post this, and I find multiple errors. Well done Grey+Sneaky, you did it again.
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App
Dedicated Spoilsport
- Location
- America
Hoo boy, the plot thickens. My continued complete lack of more than base knowledge of the world makes learning about it through these lenses particularly interesting, so while I'm sure I'm missing a lot of fun context clues of butterflies in the offshoot perspectives, I'm getting actual lore instead, which is just as valuable to me, heh.
Sciscitatia 3.3
- Location
- United States, Texas
Sneaky An: there comes a time in every author's existence that they make a controversial lore drop in their story. Where something they had in the wings the whole time (or more often came up with recently) is finally revealed. That time is now for this chapter. I want people to know this wasn't an abrupt or rash decision from our part, it has been something we were working to since about… chapter 1. While the timing of the reveal varied, do not doubt that the reveal was always going to happen, the greater lore that meshes Worm and Warcraft together WILL be expanded upon, and honestly as shit as Shudderlands was it gave us some very useful background lore to use. In fact, it was something Grey and I boggled at as quite often we would come up with lore, and then the next SL patch would basically just make our headcanon into actual canon.
Grey AN: We are on number five or six of us calling something since we started the story, and Blizzard going 'that's canon'. It's amazing what Sneaky's power of foresight accomplishes.
Sneaky: also like, i saw someone rec our story saying its "too slow" plot wise and the "action goes on for too long" which throws me for a fucking ride because people like Parcasious exist and people pay him 1k a months to write the novel equivalent of DBZs 94 episodes long fight scenes. Also, Taylor's fight scenes only drag when she fights literal fucking raid bosses and armies while accompanied by entire armies and dragonflights… god forbid she doesn't just oneshot everything the second a fight starts…
[Onslaught Harbor]
I arrived at the bustling dockyard of my Harbor, workers moving supplies this way and that, and was nearly immediately joined by Thessa… I had to wonder if it was pure luck on her end, or some ability she had to seemingly appear instantly by my side the moment I arrived. It could honestly go either way, especially as I remember her ability to literally slide through shadows. Before I could say anything, either to question her about the topic or to ask her about the Harbor, Heinrich strode up and joined us. Hrm, luck then.
Wasting no time, Heinrich gave me a nod. "My Lady."
"Heinrich. Thessa." Thessa gave me her own greeting of 'My Lady' in response before slinking to my side, Heinrich proceeding to take up my attention as I turned to him. "How goes the construction efforts?"
"The defenses of the Harbor will be finished by the day's end." He gestured towards the mostly constructed ramparts and towers. The scaffolding that once covered the area was now reduced down to select sections. "Reconstruction of the other parts of the Harbor will take a few more days once we have the materials shipped in."
That was good. That was really good. When I was ready to stop pretending my allegiance to the Scourge I would need to have the Harbor and my Port at peak defensive capabilities. With the Harbor finished the rest of my resources could go into the Port to accelerate its progress. Conveniently, The Barrows I could largely leave alone, its entire existence alone was a deterrent and defensive measure wrapped into one.
My thoughts stopped as my scanning eyes spotted an odd Onslaught march by. It wasn't that the armor they wore was eccentric, nor was it that it was particularly eye-catching. No, if anything, what caught my attention was how rooted in reality, rather than fantasy, it was, unlike most of what I'd seen in this world. Mixed in that little over-the-edge fantasy element given the sheer amount of metal and… girth of the armor set. There were still other hints of fantasy-esque minutiae in it, but overall it was something that I expected of an exaggerated late medieval knight… if they decked themselves in an abundance of plate.
Dark, near black, metal covered them from head to toe, with their profile coming out to just a bit bigger than Heinrich himself in his own armor. Their helmet was fully encompassing, with what I could barely make out as little cross-shaped holes letting them see out of it. A protruding gorget added some protection to their neck, while the rest of their chestpiece was unmarred save for a single dangling chain linked to a pendant of some kind. Two oversized pauldrons added color, with a splash of dark violet in between the edging.
The armor was truly all-covering and thick, I could barely see any gaps in its coverage. Going lower, a fauld obscured the armor up to their knees, from which a cloth banner hung adding a much-needed splash of color to the otherwise grim and imposing armor. On which was heraldry of sorts, violet fabric with a red border, housing a white skull with red flames on it… I didn't know what it was meant to represent, but it had to be important given that they had taken it as their symbol.
And to top it off, they had a weapon that I hadn't seen anyone else wield since coming here, a halberd. It brought back distant memories of long ago, of an arrogant ass of a Hero. Of someone who went through and grew as much as I did despite digging themselves for years into a deeper rut than I. I shook my head dispelling my memories, it wasn't time for reminiscing, not in front of my subordinates, at least.
However, with that revelation, I had that they changed more than just the buildings on this island I began looking closely at the other Onslaught around the dockyard. I quickly noticed that none of them were wearing the old armor and gear that I'd last seen them with. Some wore full plate armor, with only a greatsword strapped to their back as they offloaded, moved, or performed some other task with the materials being unloaded. Others wore what looked like leather overcoats and jupons, stained near-black, with only the glint of black metal telling me of the mail underneath, and armed with sheathed swords and shields.
And all of them had that symbol of a white skull with red flames on a backdrop of violet displayed proudly somewhere on them.
Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I looked back at Heinrich and asked the question on my mind. "I see that new equipment has been handed out. Though I have to ask… what is that symbol they are wearing?"
"Had enough Saronite for the smiths to make new weapons and armor, but not enough to armor everyone the same. Stuff's stronger and lighter than steel. Decided it was time we reorganized our tactics with the equipment upgrade." Heinrich was blunt and to the point, as he shrugged, something that I appreciated as I listened to him. "As for the symbol, it's the mark we chose to wear to show our allegiance."
… That needed an answer. "And why is the symbol meant to represent me, a skull on fire?"
There was a bout of silence as Heinrich looked at Thessa, who just shrugged her shoulders at the question that passed between the two silently. Turning back to me, Heinrich also shrugged. "You'd have to ask the Priors, they were the ones to come up with it." At my silent gaze, he continued without hesitation at my unasked follow-up question. "They're up at the Cathedral, in the room where you strung up the Demon. Haven't left it after they received their armor."
Well, it seemed I'd be having a conversation with the 'Priors', whoever they were, once I finished checking in with these two. "Well, it seems I have lots to catch up on with the status of the harbor. Why don't we start with what you feel are the most important updates?"
Thessa chose to speak this time instead of Heinrich, clearly, she was just waiting for my invitation as she immediately started the moment I finished asking. "Certainly, my Lady. With our… resurrection under you previous strategies had to be reconsidered, and the shipments of processed Saronite accelerated that. The Onslaught had to be rebuilt from the ground up, from troop distribution to specialties to target focus. Fortunately, we had little issue due to our experiences from previous restructuring helping smooth the transition to different weapons, armor, and tactics."
I nodded and said nothing, letting her continue. "Everyone that wasn't a Priest was run through their paces with each category of weapon that was shipped to us, and once the smiths figured out how to forge it, halberds too. The six known as the Priors immediately showed exceptional prowess above the rest, enough that they were the first armored with Saronite arms and armor." She paused, likely giving me time to ask questions, but if I did now, I would likely say something foolish… like why would halberds be relevant. I had to be careful with my words as I had to remind myself that these people were all religious fanatics that might take my words as commandments.
I felt slightly guilty, I hadn't exactly given them much time to get to know me, with how often I rushed everywhere or spent my time doing other things…
Seeing as I wasn't about to comment, Thessa continued on, "After the Priors retreated to the Revelatorium, we established and focused on ensuring the new Oblates and Custos were up to the standards Heinrich set. Heinrich and I also founded our own personal groups filled with those we knew suited our methods."
Two more terms… though this time it was simple enough to realize they were referring to a category of soldier they had invented. "Custos, Oblates?" Actually saying those names aloud, it sounded something like Latin, which I had to say was confusing to a degree. Something scratched at my brain.
Heinrich grunted and answered instead, blunt and to the point. "Custos, meant for handing the larger and tougher monster, were given greatswords - their plate was refit for better coverage. The Oblates were formed from those who did not show particular aptitude for any other rank. Shortswords, axes, maces, kite shields, and chainmail were issued to them. Don't have enough Saronite to give them armor of their own yet. One of the leatherworkers was inspired and fashioned leather overcoats to protect it from the environment." I nodded in response before turning back to Thessa. "The others?"
"I looked for individuals suited to scouting and with an aptitude for Shadow. Few of those among the Onslaught, but those few trained well as my Shadows." A group dedicated to scouting and infiltration, something that I lacked? I was glad Thessa and Heinrich proved so forward thinking and capable, you know, for ex(?)-fanatical cultists on a suicide mission. Not that I was complaining, it was just not something that I expected to just land in my lap after everything else that had happened.
"Heinrich meanwhile focused on finding the strongest and toughest, those he deemed worth his notice to form the Rectors. He swears by that training regime he learned in Naxxramas, and disseminated it to them. They are our solution to the super-heavy and monstrous infantry the Scourge can field, now that we no longer have to worry about such things as exhaustion."
I had to assume that the Onslaught I saw in the hulking suit of Saronite was a Rector then… which was strange on account of the weapon choice. I'd have thought that Heinrich would have those he trained use the same style and weapon as himself… but then again he used a hammer and shield while his own mentor used fisticuffs. Oh, that was why they used halberds, the extra leverage would amplify their blows and allow them to 'safely' attack things like the Abominations who normally towered over the average human.
Hrm, it felt good to know I made the right choice in leaving things to those two, but the names… It still bothered me. "Who came up with those names?" It wasn't that I had issues with them… it was more the fact that outside the Shadows, the rest of the names sounded like church titles or something that would come from a Latin dictionary.
"The Priors did." Of course, they did. "They said it came from their meditations in the Revelations Sacristy. You'd have to ask them if you want their reasoning." The more I learned about whoever these six Priors were the more curious I became about them. It seems they were responsible for, if not the military reorganization, the cultural shift that allowed for it to happen. They were a group that I absolutely needed to talk to before I left the Harbor, while so far their influence has been positive when it came to religious fanatics, it was best to make sure they didn't get any strange ideas about me. I paused and looked down at my not-quite-there skeletal arm, the Deathly miasma I emitted, and then up at the Twisted Death-mote Deadwood Staff as the somehow still-living Deadwood slowly creaked and groaned around the Mote.
Well. Stranger-er ideas about me.
"Boss Lady." … God. Damn. It.
I slowly turned to face the troll, steadying myself so my irritation didn't leak out. "Yes, Tzo'zi?"
If Tzo'zi was bothered by my tone, he didn't show it in the slightest, instead bulldozing forward. "Bwonsamdi felt ya come. He wants ta talk wit' ya." That was ominous. Whoever this 'Bwonsamdi' was, they had enough influence over Tzo'zi that he was willing to be an errand boy to come and get me to speak with them. Meaning, that I couldn't just brush off a meeting with them to pursue my own curiosity with the Priors.
A sigh left my lips. "Fine." Looking back at Thessa and Heinrich, I gave them a parting word. "We are done here for now. Tell the Priors that I'll be seeing them after I speak with this Bwonsamdi. If there is anything else I must absolutely know, one of you can join me when I meet with the Priors." Giving me a bow and a nod respectively, Heinrich walked off to continue what he had been doing, while Thessa melted away from sight as if she'd never been here in the first place. Turning back to Tzo'zi I motioned for him to lead the way, following after him towards the camp he and his Order had made for themselves.
I felt it prudent to ask about this Bwonsamdi before we reached the camp, though it took me until we were on the bridge to organize my thoughts and actually ask them. "Who is Bwonsamdi, Tzo'zi? And what connection do they have with you."
Tzo'zi turned his head to look back at me for a moment before continuing onward, replying after a brief pause. "Bwonsamdi be de patron Loa of de Corrupted Blood. We made a pact wit' de Loa of Death when we were raised as Death Knights. Nothin' left ta lose and everyting ta gain." Something that I'd neglected up until now was the origins of the Death Knight order, stupid in hindsight, but I suppose I never thought they would actually stick with me long enough without betrayal. I suppose that in of itself told me more about Tzo'zi and his order, and of their patron 'Loa' who I had an uneasy feeling about with the talk of deals.
Why was there always far too many things I needed to do and never enough time to actually do them?
Regardless, whatever Bwonsamdi was, he was a being of power, likely some sort of tribal spirit considering the trolls and their… culture. The second was that, before anything else, Tzo'zi and his Order were beholden to this Bwonsamdi, and if I wanted to continue having their services, I'd need to play nice with him. The last thing I needed was their Loa to tell them to strike me down because I'd angered it or something else.
I didn't have too long to think, as we neared the Corrupted Blood camp quickly, devoid of any of the other members of Tzo'zi's Order. The scenery with its various shrines, morbid icons and carved totems, and encroaching fog gave an atmosphere that… felt comforting for some odd reason.
"Well, well. Been a long time Tzo'zi. And here I thought ya were avoidin' poor ol' Bwonsamdi."
I slowly turned to face the voice speaking to Tzo'zi, and what I found there… was an eclectic sight. Not the first thing that came to mind if you would ask me what a 'Death God' looked like, and yet…
He certainly looked the part. His base body was that of a blue-skinned Troll, though with dark-blue skin etched with glowing blue tattoos that oozed an aura of death around him. His right arm looked as if they had been sewn together in a primitive manner at his bicep, complete with visible staples of what looked like bone. His fingers had no skin on them, just boney digits that tapered off to sharp points, alongside a few other places on his arms where skin just ceased to be. Midnight black hair stood straight up straight while glowing ice-blue flames in place of eyes burned with magic drifting from his sockets.
Wearing a macabre set of clothing and accessories that screamed a tribal and savage exaltation of death, from the pauldrons made of bones lined with hanging skulls, the skull that was his upper face, a shrunken head at his waist, and numerous bones making up his 'armor' underneath the red-feathered waist cape… He looked the part of a tribal deity of Death, as opposed to the depictions that would be more in line with the likes of pure Undead, monstrous twisted forms, or even my own Idolization as the Grim Reaper.
No, it wasn't his looks that had me off-guard… It was the way that this 'Loa of Death' conducted himself that had me flat-footed.
Bwonsamdi wasn't some regal, serious, or even fierce God. Instead, he lounged across the top of the altar dedicated to him as if it was a sofa, arm propping up his head as he lazily grinned down at Tzo'zi.
Tzo'zi barely reacted to his God's words, shrugging his shoulders in reply. "Tzo'zi had ta build a new shrine. Takes time. Ya wanted something from de Boss Lady, yeah?"
At that Bwonsamdi leisurely looked my way, but despite that cocksure grin and light-hearted expression, I could feel the weight of his gaze looking over me. "So, ya be Wraith den? Tzo'zi said a lot bout ya." I didn't tense up, I'd been under the gaze of far stronger beings before after all. No, I just kept my attention on Bwonsamdi, staring back without a hint of arrogance as I gave my reply.
"And yet, I haven't heard a thing about you from him until just now."
Sitting up, Bwonsamdi kept that smile on his face, letting out a chuckle that did little to reassure me. "Well. I like ta introduce ma'self personally. So don't be blamin' little Tzo'zi now." Considering that this was my third encounter with Tzo'zi, I couldn't really blame him. As much as I'd been running around, I hadn't had time to sit down and talk with anyone except Gothik just a few hours earlier. I'd have to rectify that, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be any time soon. "Da name's Bwonsamdi. Loa of Graves and Death. A pleasure."
Well, I understood why Tzo'zi worshiped Bwonsamdi… though, given the personality and domain, he reminded me of someone I'd seen before… Some character that I'd watched back on Bet with Mom and Dad. I just couldn't remember what their name was, nor even what they looked like, I just remembered Death God and a light-hearted demeanor overall.
I threw away that thought, it again wasn't the time to start reminiscing, for now, I had a Loa to converse with and introduce myself to. "I am…" I paused. The setting, how he introduced himself, the talk of deals, the casual way the Loa could supersede the Lich King's control over the Death Knights as a nonphysical Spirit… It tickled memories of another three letter species, and if I was right… Names were… important. I had called myself Wraith so long ago because I felt like a pale shadow of myself. While I didn't think it mattered much with the mortals, the Priestess and now the Loa before me proved that Faith was quite a real and present thing with capital G Gods that could answer. "I am known by the mortals as Wraith. Now, what is it that you wanted from me, Bwonsamdi?"
Immediately the air grew heavy, and in the blink of an eye, Bwonsamdi was gone from my sight, making me tense up as I heard the whisper in my ear behind me. "Answerin' a Name with a Title, huh? Dat not be a great way ta start off with ol' Bwonsamdi." I said nothing, preparing myself for whatever Bwonsamdi was about to do, whether it be just intimidation or a prelude to a fight. "But, I'll let it slide, I can see right through ya' an whateva Name yah originally held don't mean much anymore, so ya' best be findin anotha for ya' self."
And then the pressure lifted, as the Loa 'defused' the situation entirely, waltzing around me and walking away as if he hadn't just threatened me. I see. So I was right in my suspicions. But if it considered 'Wraith' a Title and not a Name… I did not like what he was implying. Yet I couldn't help but feel he was right.
Hopping onto the wooden fence and perching on it, Bwonsamdi pivoted back to me and gave a grin, completely at ease despite what he'd done just moments ago. "Anywho. I be just mindin' ma own business, taking in de dead, givin' em a good aftalife. And den I get a message from one o' ma priests. Ma' priests who don't directly call on me that much, what wit' all de Death and Decay I bring." That made sense, especially with what I knew of the Loa from scattered pieces of knowledge from the San'layn and what Tzo'zi had told me.
Jumping to his feet, still, atop the fence, Bwonsamdi decides to pace along it as he continues speaking, paying only the barest attention to where he's going. "And ma favored tells me about de being he serves. Dat his destiny told 'im bout way in de past. And I get curious." Hopping off and landing without a sound, he made his way back to me, leaning down to look me in the eye with a smirk drawn over his face. "So I ask ta meet ya. And here we be." And then he frowned and mumbled, "Nevah thought Da End would be so tiny."
For a few moments, we stayed in that position, silence weighing heavily as he waited for my response. "You honestly expect me to believe that you called me here, had Tzo'zi bring forth, all for what? Satisfying your curiosity? Tell me what you want of me, Spirit."
He leaned back, a tutting sound leaving Bwonsamdi as he went. "Forceful, I can respect dat, but den again it ain't gonna win you any friends." I bristled but held my tongue as he backed away from me and started talking animatedly. "Ey, ey, 'mon, easy dere. Jus callin' it like I see it. Anyways… I did a bit o' looking around, and I found some tings out. Ya' bein busy for bein what yah are, eh?" I narrowed my eyes, still unsure where he was trying to go with this. Was he attempting to hold something over me, to extort me? I hadn't exactly kept a sterling record, but he had Tzo'zi as a favored faithful and he quite literally scalps people alive. Why is it always with the power games? "So. I've come to make a Deal with ya, Wraith."
I took a moment to respond, registering what Bwonsamdi had said as he meandered away from me. Eventually, I followed after the Loa, replying to him as I got close. "And what is this… deal?" I couldn't help the curiosity in my voice… He called himself a Loa, yet talked about Names and Titles, and now Deals. Whatever this Deal was, I would have to be cautious, the rules of this world were still new to me.
He didn't turn around, merely chuckling darkly, and looking over his shoulder, a single light blue eye staring into me. "I help ya with ya chains. Ya help me with mine."
I frowned, that was a shallow offer no matter how you looked at it. If my binding worked, I wouldn't be able to agree. If my binding was weak enough for me to agree it would be weak enough that I would be able to do it myself… So he is either misinformed or thinks I'm too weak to break free. The fact that he can talk of his binding at all means he's in a similar situation as myself, not breaking free intentionally, but the fact that he's asking for help means… It means he agreed, or was pressured into agreeing, to the binding and it's now a deal he wants to back out of.
He wants to offer me a deal to do something I could do myself to assist him in breaking off his end of a deal he didn't want to uphold. I shook my head, I wasn't desperate enough to align myself with a bad-faith wheeler-dealer, not this time at least. 'This is a waste of time, I have better things to do. I'll make up for whatever offense I deal to Tzo'zi later.' Without saying a word I turned and intended to walk away.
"Hey! Hey, now. Before yah be thinkin' ol' Bwonsamdi ain't good on his word, at least hear 'im out first..." I paused at the hints of desperation in Bwonsamdi's voice, coming from right behind me again. I turned around to find him lounging on another of his shrines like it was a throne, only leaning forward with his hands steepled once he knew he had my attention. He flashed away in a burst of blue ghostly fire and appeared in front of me. "Let Bwonsamdi lay his cards out," He swiped his hand with a flourish as an ethereal table appeared, in his other hand, a deck burned itself into existence. With another swipe, the deck was splayed across it. "On da table."
He raised a card with his left hand, a picture of a ball with a broken chain on it. "Ya want out o' de Scourge, ya want ta be Free." I narrowed my eyes but otherwise didn't react in any other way. How did he piece it together? It took one of the people who made my chains a sit-down chat with me to even realize how much I had slipped them. Outwardly, I had been the consummate villain. The card burned up, then appeared in his other outstretched hand. "I. Want to be ma own Loa. Free ta do as I please. We're not so different. Not in de ways dat matta." He placed it in the center of the table.
Damn this world and damn how much fantasy is proving to be reality. Of course, some tribal death god who goes on about Names and Deals can't find a blunt honest bone in their body especially after saying an ominous and theatrically delivered statement like 'I'm going to lay it all out on the table.' But what I did remember from the books was one important tidbit of information. Do not let Them phrase or construct anything they do for you as a favor or a measure of effort that leaves you indebted to them if you could help it.
So to start with, I had a Loa to bargain with. I picked up the card he placed in the center with my now bony ethereal arm. Thankfully, my impulsive decision worked out as the magic of my missing arm was able to interact with the magical cards, otherwise, this would have been embarrassing. I made a show of looking at it before, with a bit of a stretch, I placed it on the left side of the table. If I was right, he had put it into the center because it was something we both wanted. "...Your assistance is at this time neither required nor appreciated. You say we can break each other's chains but I feel that quite the lopsided offer, with how easily I can slip mine. So, tell me then, Bwonsamdi, what can you offer me?"
He chuckled and made no motion to move the card, so it looks like we were on the same wavelength. "Interestin', now dat's news tah Bwonsamdi, very well den, what can I offa' yah?" Bwonsamdi's grin stretched across his face, hands rubbing together as an excitement crept through him. He swiped a card off the table and showed me its face. In the bottom right was a crowned lion, and in the upper left was an upside-down pair of crossed axes, with a crescent moon in the center of the card.
"Ya' don't need powah or prestige, yah got too much o' de stuff anyways."
His free hand waved dismissively at the idea. With an admittedly impressive show of dexterity, for having only two fingers, the card spun around in his hand to show me its face again. This time it was an open tome.
"Ya don't need knowledge, ya want to find dat on yah own."
Bwonsamdi sighed and slapped the card down on the table into the pile of splayed out face down cards. Which I just noticed also now had the face-up card containing the lion, axe, and moon.
Bwonsamdi was not wrong about my pursuit of knowledge, while answers would be nice it certainly wasn't going to be something I was going to bargain for. Anything knowledge-wise I would bargain for from the Death God I didn't know I needed to ask yet. It was a situation reminiscent of the early days of Dinah's powers, I suppose. Only getting the answer to precisely the question you asked, not what you needed, and often only knowing what you needed to ask after you received your answer.
Bwonsamdi slumped on the ghostly table, one hand propping up his face, the other drumming on the face-down cards. "Well den, dere be only one thing Bwonsamdi can be offerin' ya. What I offa, be a favah." He did another card trick, flipping over a card while not interrupting the beat with his drumming fingers. On the face of the card was a kneeling troll, showered in light.
A favor? My mouth thinned, I was hoping for something more concrete, troops, public support, anything that could help me pin down Kel'Thuzad. But still… When it comes to making deals with the Other Side, "What does this 'favor' consist of, Bwonsamdi?" It was best to be clear.
"One favah. Anyting ya want, within reason o' course." That was… quite vague, what constituted 'reason', but I could see the value in having a god-like being owing me a favor. "O' course, dis be for afta we break outta our chains. No use givin' a favah if de otha party can't use it, is there?" Which meant that the favor was a reward for both of us, and we'd be helping one another in any capacity to break our chains.
"... I suppose not." It wasn't a bad offer, having a Deity in your pocket for a single favor was very beneficial, however… "And how will either of us know what is 'within reason'?"
"Oh dat be simple. We ain't complicated are we? Loa be defined by what dey are, and what dey represent. Ya can just ask Tzo'zi what ol' Bwonsamdi represents later." I had a feeling that pumping Tzo'zi for information would be a far more enjoyable affair given his more blunt and straightforward nature, rather than play Bwonsamdi's circle-talk game.. I'd certainly neglected conversing a lot with how I'd been pulled one way and the next, and I needed to start fixing that. Disgruntled minions were easily swayed away from you. "And before ya ask. Ya aren't hard ta figure out Wraith. I won't be askin' ya anyting ya wouldn't do."
I was more offended than I should have been at Bwonsamdi's statement. I think it was more at the insinuation that I was simple than at the idea that a Death God had me pegged, but either way I held my tongue. In most stories I'd read, would be Gods were fickle beings, ones that would take back their boons or undermine their support at the slightest provocation and held grudges tightly… even on perceived slights. With a God that I didn't know anything about beyond this initial meeting, one that had asked for me and was offering me a deal, I wasn't about to take the chance of him looking to double-deal me like he is having me do to his previous exchange..
And yet…
What I did was audibly sigh, "Yet again, it seems like this favor of yours is a gift for freeing you, not something you are exchanging for freeing you as it's contingent on me upholding the entirety of the deal, while you risk nothing." I paused to look him in the eyes as he leered at me. So much for not offending him. "You want me to step up and work for your freedom, I want to see you put some skin in the game." What did I need? I had resources, I had forces, I had specialists. All of it was in a tangled web of bottlenecks, disproportionately increasing one factor gave me little return as the rest had to grow in proportion to be useful.
What I needed… was the backing of already established factions. I need alliances to give me legitimacy and to help prevent vendettas from carrying over once I dropped the Scourge. Plus it was something solidly in my camp in the exchange as I doubted Bwonsamdi didn't have his own plans after being freed. "I need friends." Bwonsamdi stopped his drumming to stare incredulously at me. Even Tzo'zi stopped pretending to not listen in order to plainly display his bafflement.
I winced under the shadow of my hood. Phrasing.
"My faction needs allies - legitimacy - if I am going to stand on my own. You are… established, in the know, surely you can… reach out in my stead, give even a token show of backing me to them. Do that and I consider the scale balanced."
Bwonsamdi slowly started nodding to my statement, carefully picking up a card and spinning it on his finger, the face showing two hands shaking, and with each rotation, the races of the hand changed along with the handshake moving up and down. An impressive bit of showmanship. "An Alliance, huh…" He caught the card and stared at it, before slowly placing it on my right. "Cleva', very clevah. An' yah thought me the weasel. Alright, yah got Bwonsamdi interested. I get you your Alliance. You get me my Freedom. An I gift you a' favah once its all ova'."
"So…" With a savage grin on his face, Bwonsamdi extended his hand out to me. "We got a deal?"
I didn't hesitate, reaching forward and clasping his arm with my right hand. His own hand of bone gripped the magic making up the arm as if it was flesh and blood, his smile growing bigger. "... We have a deal." I felt something spark and flow between the two of us as I spoke. It was a binding, more powerful than anything Kel'Thuzad placed on me. But, we would see if it was more resistant. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.
But I had no doubts that Bwonsamdi had some knowledge on how to circumvent or outright ignore the binding, he was older and had likely been Dealing for an equally long time. But for now, I would trust him to keep our bargain, at least until he was out of 'his chains', whatever they were.
"Pleasure doin' business with ya." Letting go of my arm he paced backward, giving a bow with an odd glint in his eyes. "Now I best be goin'. Loa of Death and all, I got a lot of tings to do, and nevah enough time. Don't be a stranga now."
Without another word, Bwonsamdi's form burst into blue flames, consuming him entirely and leaving nothing behind. Even with him gone though, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, something I had no doubt was because this was considered hallowed ground for him.
Ignoring that, I looked at Tzo'zi. "I have a meeting to attend. After I have finished, I wish to have a talk about you and the Corrupted Blood, Tzo'zi." The Death Knight shrugged his shoulders in response but didn't otherwise say a thing. Taking that as the end of the conversation, I turned on my heel and started my walk back to the Harbor.
It was only as I was halfway back that I stopped and questioned where the rest of the Corrupted Blood was, seeing as it was only myself, Tzo'zi, and Bwonsamdi at the camp. After much deliberation, I decided to shelve that for later. Perhaps I could see what Thessa could dig up to prep me for whenever I returned to ask Tzo'zi more about himself and his Knights. Partner save me, I had enough to deal with today. Far too many serious conversations in succession were eating away at me, and now I have to go talk to some religious fanatics that found themselves as the new cornerstone of the cultural renovation of more religious fanatics.
Joy.
The rest of the walk through the harbor was uneventful, with the sounds of smithing, the crunch of snow, the clanking of metal, and construction filling the cold air serving as a comforting backdrop as I made my way towards the Cathedral. I barely paid attention to my surroundings as I went, focused as I was on my meeting with the Priors, and what would come of it, and soon enough I was standing at the steps up to what could be called my 'home'.
"My Lady."
Had I been alive, I would have stopped at the sudden voice of Thessa right behind me. As it was, I merely turned around to find her saluting, a slight bow with her fist over her heart, in greeting. "Thessa. I assume something has come up if you're here?"
Straightening up, Thessa nodded her head before answering. "The last shipment of materials arrived while you were speaking with the Death Knight." Huh, I would have thought I'd have noticed a ship arrive but I suppose the constant background noise the harbor was filled with wouldn't change too much with the addition of another ship. That and the Corrupted Blood area was a bit isolated from the rest of the Harbor so I shouldn't be too surprised considering my attention was focused on Bwonsamdi as well. "Heinrich expects the Harbor to be fully finished by tomorrow's end now that the materials are here."
Truly this world was a marvel with its construction speed. Between magic and the simplicity of tech, construction times seemed to run at an unchained pace here. I began walking inside, I had the inklings of an idea of what scene a bunch of religious zealots would find holy and draw inspiration from.
"I see. That is good to hear… it will be put to the test soon." She stopped and jerked her head in surprise, eyes wide, before bounding after me with what I felt was a little more pep in her step. "I'll tell you later. For now, I have a few questions. The first of which is where Tzo'zi's Knights went. I didn't see any of them when I went down to meet with their Loa."
She huffed and immediately responded, a note of distaste in her voice. "The Death Knights were becoming antsy after you left, so Tzo'zi sent them north to deal with Kvaldir. We haven't seen them since, but the ship crew reported seeing a few walking across the ice towards the Harbor. I would not be surprised if they returned by the time your meeting with the Priors is finished, my Lady."
Walking across the ice? I had seen the ocean, there was no ice bridge connected to the harbor… Perhaps this is another power of the Death Knights? The Scourge is awfully fond of ice magic. Outwardly, I motioned with my staff, "Thank you Thessa." I hummed as my staff clacked upon the stone, the only sign of my passing, echoing down the silent halls. "Your ability to disappear, how is it that you do that?"
Thessa tilted her head at me, her passing utterly muffled in spite of her dressed in full kit. "It was a gift of knowledge from Her, one I inflicted upon myself." That gave me pause as I stopped and turned slightly to look at her, Thessa matched my movements and held a steady gaze back at me. "Do not mistake my complaint for ungratefulness, My Lady. It is just…" She looked away, her head hung, "It was not Her fault, I was simply not enough to comprehend the full scope of basic knowledge She gave me." I couldn't help the growing internal headache, Partner what did you do?
[Apology. Exchange.]
A show of goodwill in exchange for loyalty? Hrm, fair enough. Still, if you really sent her an entire packet… how is she not a dribbling mess? My estimations of the capabilities and resilience of the average Azerothian, and Thessa in particular, definitely rose with that. Perhaps being a soul made her more receptive to that knowledge? Interesting, that could be something to experiment with in the future.
"Don't downplay yourself so much, Thessa. Very few minds could decipher let alone implement the knowledge granted. Especially in such a…" I searched for the right word to use, giving praise was hard, "evasive and potent fashion." Disappearing at will, really, that reminded me of- Ah, Imp. I wonder if she could occlude memory with enough practice… Magic on this planet has proven to have a significant symbolic link to its capabilities, and nothing is more overlooked and forgotten than a shadow.
She quirked her head before dipping it in acknowledgment, a light smirk gracing her lips. "If you say so, My Lady." She motioned her hand forward, ushering us both on as she took the lead to the room that was apparently now the 'Revelatorium'. "When you raised me, She stood there with my soul in front of Her, exchanging life for loyalty. I demanded to know whether She was more than just another Necromancer. I received… insight from Her."
I let the silence hang between us, insight is certainly a way of describing a Shard Exchange Packet. Though I was still not exactly following how information about space and light transitions into jumping between shadows. "And from that, you figured out how to disappear."
"It is… difficult to explain, and it is why I looked for individuals with similar dispositions like my own for my Shadows." She apparently picked up on my frustration as she quickly followed up her answer. "Apologies, My Lady. I am not a scholar or mage."
"It is fine, Thessa." I waved her off as she seemed genuinely apologetic. "Thank you for sharing what you did." It wasn't fine, but she was right. I could hardly expect someone like her to understand the importance of documenting the data she's produced. Perhaps I need to find some volunteers and take a more hands-on approach of knowledge introduction? If basic information on light and space translated into unknown and powerful Shadow manipulation what could other ideas produce?
Something in me tingled nicely at that thought.
Still, I'd better focus on the now, we were nearing a room I was familiar with. "What can you tell me about the Priors before I go to meet them?"
"They are… different. They are composed of the six soldiers that went with you when you traveled with the Nerubians." Oh? Interesting, so something they saw in the Tundra or with the Nerubians made them have some sort of religious revelation? I wonder what caused it? "After returning they sought refuge in the Revelatorium before the common soldier began calling it that. They approached us…. Changed. Burning with new ideas and worldviews. They had not received revelations on our resurrection but rather after praying to you in that room." She cut off my obvious follow-up before I could say it, "We suspected them of having been compromised by the Demon you hung in the room at first, but the priests put an end to that suspicion when they confirmed that the whispers the newly dubbed Priors were hearing were not from the Demon but your Chains, My Lady." I did not jerk in surprise or shiver from the creepiness, only amplified by her rather flat delivery, that for some reason the new cultural cornerstones of the Onslaught were openly hearing whispers in their minds and that was somehow fine. If only because it was whispering coming from my Chains of Death and not the Demon they Bound.
Which, I might add, did not make it better.
"I… see." Really, what was I supposed to say to that? 'No, stop making sane rational decisions because my own magic chains you are praying to are telling you how to do them?' "If I require something, I will call for you Thessa. Until then, I believe you had some recruits to train up."
"Of course my Lady." She saluted me again with the same fist-over-heart bow as before and the next thing I knew she was gone.
Entering my 'meditation room', my eyes were immediately drawn to six new figures in the room, easily ignoring the hanging demon bound in my chains. The six armored individuals surrounded the chained Demon, each of them with their head bowed and a hand raised clasping something, which was likely an icon that represented their new Faith in me.
Clad in the custom Saronite armor that I'd been told of, they cut an imposing image, even if they were kneeling. Compared to the Rectors outside, they had far less armor, as I could actually see the chainmail in the gaps of the plate, and instead of obnoxious pauldrons, the spaulders they wore were small and likely gave them better freedom of movement. With the white cloaks that adorned them, of course with the new Onslaught emblem on them, they almost cut the figure of regal holy warriors instead of the undead that they were beneath that armor.
Hrm. After seeing the nature of the resurrected Dryads, were the Onslaught actually even proper Undead? Necromancy wasn't actually used to resurrect them, just the principles behind the magic of it, and they neither rotted like the standard Undead nor did they have the overwhelming urge to murder the living like Death Knights. Unliving? No, the implications of that don't fit. Perhaps… Undying? Fitting and it sets them apart from the Scourge, which I'm sure they would appreciate. I'll pitch the idea to Thessa about spreading that around on the down low. I cleared my head, 'Stow it for later, I need to handle the powerful, influential, religious fanatics who are creating a cult around me.'
I turned my gaze to try and pick apart any discrepancies between them, any personalizations, yet I could find none. Experience made me expect the personality leaders of a faction to divert from their dress code to show off the fantasy-cliched 'Named' status. 'Although, if they represent themselves as The Priors it would make sense to dress the same.'
They did not rise when I entered the room, nor did they react when I walked into their midst, and even as I took my seat upon the altar, they did not move from their position. But I could tell they were directing their attention to me, waiting for something to occur to bring them into action. Cult. God. Fanatics. I sighed, internally, of course.
"Rise."
Immediately and in sync with one another, the Priors all rose to their feet, right hand over their chest while their left gripped a greatsword by the blade. Just as I had thought, they were waiting on me to start this conversation. A bitter note flitted through me before I quashed it, they were eerily in precise sync with one another, but I wasn't controlling them like they were mindless undead or a swarm of bugs. That was something they had done on their own. With that same precision, they lined themselves up before me.
So much like Khepri. What had they 'heard' from my chains?
"I have been told about you six." I debated with myself on the phrasing, what to start with? How to ask? Thessa's statements made it sound like they still had impetus but I wasn't their peer, I was their god. I would need to ask about the information I wanted to hear, not rely on them just telling me what I wanted to know without me asking. So, first, "I'd like to know more about the revelations that you've gleaned from the chains."
"As you command, My Lady." "You speak, we listen." I blinked as the two Priors to my right spoke in turn, continuing right after the other had finished. My suspicion only increased, I could have waved away their earlier actions as the result of merely practicing to put on a show for me, but surely they didn't practice speaking as one? But I didn't have time to dwell on it, as the Prior in front of me and to the left continued.
"It began when you summoned and bound the Elementals." Oh. The Elementals, I had forgotten about them, since I owned a fortress on an island. I should probably enlist the local Elementals or however that worked. Maybe I should bring them back to study them more. Just another thing to add to the pile of things to do when I got the chance. "We heard the whispers, speaking of the End."
Ah yes, of course, Chains of Death that whisper of the apocalypse. That wasn't ominous at all, truly.
I expected the next Prior in line to speak and wasn't disappointed, given the way they were speaking it was likely that the Priors had indeed formed a bond or connection with one another. The only question was if it was a network or a gestalt. "We witnessed their truth when used on Dragonbane." "We saw the End made manifest."
I see, they witnessed my Supernova and, I grudgingly conceded, took it as a show of beyond mortal power, drawing Faith and revelations from it. In retrospect, Alexstrasza's words rang in my head, about my mana usage and what I thought was normal versus what the average mage of this world would think. The Supernova utterly drained me, and based on that as a scale… I grimaced, there was no talking down or playing this off. I had hoped maybe to manage expectations like I have done quite well so far with the Dryads and Gothik, but between all the factors when it came to the Onslaught combined with the amount of time I've spent away from them, my reputation had quite truly taken on a life of its own. Again.
The first Prior continued on where the last had finished. "When we returned we pondered and discussed." "We prayed and sought understanding." "When you left we came and looked upon Mal'Ganis." The sheer hatred in that name had me look at the Prior who had said it. Interesting. For all that they were fanatics, suicidal and genocidal, I'd never seen the sheer hate displayed just now from any of my Onslaught until now.
"The whispers came again." "They spoke of combat." "Of Heroes." "Of Villains." "They spoke, we learned." I felt… pity? There was no way they practiced this, my initial, possibly unfounded, suspicion had to be correct. "We sought insight." "And our prayers were answered."
"We saw the End." "Where once was rage, there is now certainty." This was becoming more depressing as they continued, but it did build a picture for me all the same. Partner didn't give them any information, I did. Just like with the Priestess, their Faith called on me and I apparently answered without knowing. The worst part was that I had no idea what I 'told' them, between my life experiences and the possibly hundreds of books I read throughout my life it left quite the sea of knowledge to guess at. Though, it does make the Latin-ish names make more sense, as well as the troop reorganization. I had noticed that the factions of this planet seemed to prefer one or two 'main' troop types backed by their veteran or 'Elite' variant. Throw in a 'special' creature here and there like the Abomination, or a 'Named' individual and you get the standard army composition. Apparently, the idea of specializing in battalions and maintaining troop diversity was new.
"I don't suppose you can show me the fruits of your insights?"
Immediately, the two Priors in front of me backed away from me before turning towards one another and raising their blades. Both took a stance that looked akin to some of the statues of old Knights I'd seen, blade pointing straight up with both hands clasped on the handle. One lit up with Holy energy surrounding themselves with a bubble-like aura that shimmered in the candlelight. The one that hadn't lit up made a show of attempting to strike at the bubble, with their sword showing signs of being repelled with almost magnetic-like effects. Then they backstepped and sank into a low stance, their body twisted to the side as they held their greatsword parallel to their head. Then I felt a surge of mana as their whole form took on a shadowy, smoky state before their blade erupted into Light. No, not just Light I could feel it, a small almost unnoticeable nail of Death right at the point of the blade.
The Prior did not so much run forward as they did accelerate and glide, their previously insubstantial eyes blazed a fiery red.
I barely saw what occurred next, but the energy it released was intimately familiar to me. That nail of Death was thrust forward and punctured through that protective bubble. Then the moment the Light-wreathed sword made contact with the bubble, it exploded.
Violently.
Supernaturally blinded by the attack, I only heard the rest of what happened, metal scraping against stone telling that one of the two had been sent skidding away, presumably the one that had been attacked. As my sight returned, that guess was proven correct, with them rising back to their feet while the other relaxed their stance. And with that, they returned to their positions around me, and after a moment the next of the Priors spoke.
"The beginning of the End." "Against such a force, not even the Light can protect." Interestingly, that implied that the protective bubble was known for its imperviousness. Another thing known for its imperviousness defeated by my involvement, no matter how remote, was almost funny enough to make me laugh. Almost. I'd known that mixing two types of magic was possible, my Supernova was an example, though not one I was keen on repeating any time soon. But to know that it was something that wasn't just unique to me and that individuals had created something without my aid… directly anyway, was good to know, yet also a warning.
"Impressive."
And it was. Beyond simply showcasing their own abilities, they had given me something to think about as I moved forward with my studies on magic. What would mixing Cosmic and Light magic produce? What other magics were out there, and what combinations could I make with them? Was this the only application that Death and Light had together, or was there more that required just the right composition to unlock? Partner and I would have to think about those applications as we continued forward with our research and studies.
For now, though, I needed to finish my talk with the Priors, after that, I could figure out the nuances of magic… maybe this time without a deadline hanging over me?
But surely a few small questions couldn't hurt right now? "I am familiar with the intricacies of Death, I am aware of Life, Order, and Cosmic… but I'm not much learned on the Light. Could you enlighten me?"
That got some nervous shuffling and furtive glances between them, which was nice to see that they hadn't wholly given themselves into a sort of weird pseudo-hivemind before the last on my right answered. "It is… different for each channeler, My Lady." Another picked up where he stopped, apparently, they found their rhythm once more. "The Light comes from an external source." "One that graces the determined and selfless." "The righteous and willful." "It is a cleansing and healing power that asks for nothing but for a person to give the path before them their everything." "It abhors the selfish and cowardly, the undead and the aberrant. The Horde allowed such filth into their ranks like the slavering beasts they are. But such truths cannot be rejected, we have heard how Undead that try to use the Light are duly punished for such blaspheme." Near the end of the Priors' answers, the final Prior apparently got swept up into an impromptu speech cum rant cum preach.
I blinked. 'Wow. I can see how the others could get caught up if this was how they proposed the changes. They had an odd charisma.'
"Interesting. And being… Undying has not affected it?" I threw out my name idea I had earlier to help separate themselves from the Undead. I hadn't realized the depths of their disgust for them but thinking about it now, I realized that not many people would throw their entire life away on a suicide mission with a low chance of success at what was effectively a living apocalypse. My cloudy memories and the clinical way the 'Scourging of Lordaeron' was dictated to me likely didn't help me put two and two together until now.
Ugh, I called them religious fanatics but their religion must have been the only thing left in their lives after it all, anyone would have turned out like that. I winced, numerous villains from Bet came to mind and I amended my statement, most people would have found something to base their life around… or break. The fact that so many managed to push through, and actually managed to get this far… It was commendable.
One of the Priors huffed and nodded, "Undying. It fits." "But no, when you first brought us back from the abyss of Death we were lost." "Broken of if not mind, then spirit." "We chose to answer the call of The Patron as our last hurrah." "Either an honored promise or one final betrayal."
Oh. So that was why they had been so restrained towards me? Even though I had killed them, brought them into a state close to something they loathed, they were giving me one shot to take the fight to the Scourge or they would die in an effort to at the least kill me.
I nodded, I could respect convictions like that. And I could see why they lost connection to this Light if it required willpower, even a single failure could cause a downward spiral that lead to more and more failures. I didn't miss how similar this Light worked to when the Kaldorei prayed to me. "And what changed?"
They said as one. "You."
"You showed us power, you allowed us time." "When we were lost, petitions to you and The Patron gave us answers." "With time we mended, reaffirmed in conviction, and the Light answered us once more."
Well. Huh. I believe this is the part where I- ah, yes there is the awkward fluttery-tingle. Thank you, Partner, I needed a rough approximation of embarrassment brought about by praise shoved into my non-existent skull.
Still, this Light functioned quite differently from other magics I had seen or used so far. "Say about the Light, could you explain more?"
Again, I received silence from them as they looked back and forth between each other. Finally, one of the Priors in the middle spoke, "I'm sorry, My Lady, we can give you insight into the Church but you speak about the more fundamentals of the Light, yes?" Another shook their head, "We were but simple peasants, not nobles, scholars, or priests." A third shrugged, "The hows and why didn't matter before the fall and they didn't matter after the fall. If it worked, it worked."
'Right, right. No matter how competent Thessa and Henrich are, they were orphans. Most of the Crusade was made of peasants and veterans…' I waved off their apology, "It is not an issue, merely a curiosity."
I only had one more question for them, at least for now. I was certain that I'd find something else to ask them about later. "This Demon, Mal'Ganis…" I jerk my staff at the dead Demon held aloft by my chains, still dripping blood, 'I ought to look into that too…' "When I first came in you were arranged around him, was there some greater significance to that?"
"Let us tell you our history." "The Plague came and claimed a Kingdom." "We were among those who marched on Stratholme with the Prince, pursuing the source of the cursed grain" Stratholme… I knew that name. The acolytes spoke of that place on occasion, unfortunate that I wasn't able to understand them at the time. It's no capital city from what few bits I could recall, but it was a cornerstone of… Lordaeron? "There Mal'Ganis' treachery was revealed, forcing the Prince to commit terrible acts to try and save his people." "Betrayed by his allies for doing what was right…" "The Kingdom's fall, the Prince's fall, starts with Mal'Ganis."
Cursed grain? The start of a zombie apocalypse? A major metropolitan zone? Wait, the Scourge necromancers thought they made the plagues, the Crusaders thought they were putting a stop to it, and caught up in it all is a body-snatching Demon. 'Dammit, Demons fromHell The Twisting Nether started a zombie apocalypse while simultaneously had everyone finger everyone else as the problem? That level of planning unsettled me.' I knew I wasn't going to like where this was going, but I had to ask anyway. "What, what happened in Stratholme?"
"""A Purge.""" "The Prince knew what had to be done." "The Demon taunted us the whole time." "We knew he did not lie, why bother when the truth was worse?" "If we were to stop the Scourge from using the body and souls of the people we swore to protect, we had to cut them down." """It was the only way."""
Shit, I knew I wasn't going to like the answer. If Stratholme was a major city, filled with tens of thousands of souls… people they had been charged with protecting, I could see how that weight burned on their psyche. To 'save' them from the Plague you had to slash and burn the very people who looked to you for protection- while they were still human. What else would they feel but sheer Hatred for the creature that forced them to commit such atrocity?
The worry and anxiety that eats away at you as someone looms above you thinking themselves untouchably superior while they mock you about how everyone you care about could be dead or dying, claiming that it was all by their hand. The magic inside me roiled at the memory.
Yet, when they spoke of the Prince it was oddly detached. Considering the circumstance, you could think that the soldiery would harbor misplaced resentment towards their boss, yet... "What about the Prince? Surely you have resentment for him ordering that purge."
"The Prince did what he thought best." "When faced with your Kingdom's death… would you not do everything to preserve it?" My mind involuntarily flashed to the battle with Scion, before flitting through countless other decisions and incidents that I'd chosen. And I found myself unable to disagree. "Burning bridges with Friends and Mentors, he led us against the Scourge." "Wounded as we were during the Purge, we were unable to join him when he sailed to Northrend." "There he fell to the lure of Mal'Ganis, and only a corpse returned bearing a cursed sword."
"I see." Cursed sword and a Prince? I can put two and two together. "What was the Prince's name?"
"The Prince's name whispered through the Forests." "The people cheered his name when he came home." "Prince Arthas… now the Lich King."
The suddenly somber atmosphere infected my thoughts. That's… was dark. Could my story have ended similarly? If Contessa hadn't killed me when she did? Would I have-? I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. Yes, I would have.
I shook my head to clear it, we had gotten off track. "There's more of these Demons than just Mal'Ganis, isn't there?"
The priors shared a chuckle at this. "Of course there are." "Rumors of the Forsaken, the Undead filth that claims to be free of the Scourge, have allied with one'" "One was supposedly slain but… we are not learned, but even we don't believe it was that easy." "It is almost assured that more hide in plain sight." "They are, after all, Legion."
Fantastic. Shapeshifting dragons. Shapeshifting demons. Why can so many things shapeshift?! Ahem. "And only I have killed one?" This was going to be a serious issue, maybe I should try and teach my 'spells' to some of the mages here? If there are any, that is. The Kaldorei could pull on me for spells, maybe… Under the cover, my garments provided me I cringed in disgust at the thought of what I would have to do. I might have to play up being a god to the priests to enable them to wield my Deathbolts and Chains of Death. If the Demons were competent enough to engineer a zombie apocalypse and world war, I didn't want to see what would happen now that I've started permanently killing them. Who knows what they would lash out with?
One of the Priors shook their head thankfully, only for my hopes to be crushed instantly. "Technically, no. However, I have only heard stories about the Death of Archimonde." "A terrifying creature that laid waste to Dalaran using unknown magics, he sought to consume the World Tree." There was a World Tree? I supposed I shouldn't be all that surprised by such information, this world seemed to pack itself to the brim with every fantasy. "It is said that Nature itself rose up to strike him down in a great self-sacrificial explosion, you can supposedly see his skeleton still wrapped around the tree."
"And leaving a body behind isn't normal?" Another round of shrugs was all I received.
"I'm sorry, My Lady, we aren't too knowledgeable on Demons." "The Demons largely fought in Kalimdor, and we are too young to know of the second war." "You would have to find a Warlock to know more of them."
Another shared term, but on this world, it was apparently more defined, "Warlock?"
"A practitioner of Fel." "Outcasts and Heathens, striking pacts and selling souls, theirs and others, for power." "They are few and far between." "The Alliance tolerates them, barely." That prior shook his head while two others spat. "Further proof of how they have fallen to corruption and need to be purged."
Wow, that was, uh, a leap of logic. Yet, at the same time, I could almost understand. Your government, which is supposed to protect you, up and tolerates the existence of people who consort with literal genocidal Demons, and trade the souls of others for promises of power. It was like all the stereotypes of 18th-century witches made real, and all the more horrible for it. I really doubted anyone who got that deeply involved in Demonology is going to be all that picky about whose souls they trade away.
Regardless, that explains the Saytrs now, using Fel magic and why their souls tried to disappear the second I broke the crystal shell holding them. It looks like I was right in my wariness of them, though things just became more complicated for me as now I have undead Demons in my employ without using any of the usual methods this world knows…
Sigh.
I held back a groan as I realized that the Demons were likely going to be another, constant, threat to the world I was now on, especially with Warlocks running around. I just hoped it didn't end up with another Cauldron situation where they become shadow backers to those in positions of power and use their influence to weaken the world to invasions… but then I realized that was exactly what was happening right now.
I could feel the beginning of a headache coming on and I didn't even have the biology to get those anymore. "Very well. Thank you, I must meditate…" I paused, there was no harm in telling them I was going to talk directly with Partner was there? They already knew of her existence, and it would probably buy me some uninterrupted time if I play into their religiosity a bit… "And I will have to speak to Her, so if I could have some private time?"
The six immediately straightened and saluted with a fist over their heart. "Of course, My Lady, before we depart, may we swear an oath to you?"
"I- Yes, go ahead." What would refusing them give me? The headache-like feeling only increased.
The six knelt in sync, sword blade in hand, much like how I first found them. "On bended knee, we swear to protect our liege and her holdings, to serve the good of both, though it may cost us our souls. We shall serve faithfully and with honor, forever more, till our liege releases us to the Final Death. We give our oath, by this symbol of our standing in the Onslaught, to hold this oath, lest our souls are annihilated in shame and dishonor."
There was something in the air that took hold of me, "I accept your Oaths of fealty and dedication, and in turn offer my own Oath to protect Azeroth from all that wish the planet and its people ill."
I sagged into my voluminous cloak as something weighed down the air, heavy and oppressive. "Now, please, I must meditate."
They rose in sync and saluted once more with their fists, """By your will.""" Then they turned and marched out, leaving me alone with the weighty air and a still bleeding corpse of a Demon.
I barely noticed my staff unmoving, static in its place as I let go and immediately sank into a meditative pose.
[Vengeance Landing - Sylvanas]
"-nge. The Outcasts have reported fluctuations in the Leylines since we arrived. They don't expect it to be an issue currently, but will keep monitoring it for any abnormal fluctuations." I nodded at the end of the report, signaling for the Black Outcast to move back before I turned to an Executor at the far side of the table as she stepped forward.
She gave me a short bow before launching into her report, another of many that had been given. "News on the Necromancer known as 'Wraith', my Lady." An eye rose in response as I gave the woman my attention, as did most of the room save Putress, the unhinged man muttering under his breath and writing down notes on a pad.
"While obviously, Wraith is an adopted name, her distinct features, namely being one-armed, also produce no results. The only consolation is that the Alliance is also at a loss as to who she is, as well as the Mage-city, Dalaran." I sat a little straighter out of interest. Oh? Isn't that something… "Somehow, whoever Wraith used to be was able to hide their immense skill until now. As far as we can tell now, she is a relatively new Necromancer from the Cult of the Damned but given her apparently leadership position and mobile nature, she is likely quite high in it."
I said nothing, as far as I was concerned, this 'Wraith' was simply another necromancer on the cusp of lichdom, or a lich already if some of the previous hearsay was to be believed. Certainly, I'd heard of the Warsong and Alliance's failure to land at Borean Tundra, and that both laid much at this 'Wraith's' hands, but the bruised egos of Orcs and Men were hardly a reliable source. I found it far more likely they merely lost and blamed the most visually memorable figure. The Cult of the Damned was disappointingly vast, and even to this day, there are defections from the Living. I doubted anyone's records were infallible, this Wraith could have easily slipped by.
I motioned for the Executor to keep going, perhaps there would be something actually worthwhile in the report. "At the Horde lazing zone, Overlord Hellscream, and many others, bore witness to a fight between Wraith and an odd sea-like vrykul by the name of 'Sigvaldr Dragonsbane'. 'Wraith' utilized various unknown spells as well as several spells of druidic nature." Interesting… Perhaps that was why no one remembers or has records of Wraith? A druid practicing necromancy….
It wasn't fear I felt but unease, what foul intent did He have for recruiting a Druid? What kind of sick mind could attune themselves to Nature to then destroy it with the Scourge's plagues? I would have my Rangers and spies keep an eye out for information on this Wraith.
-"Fortunately, we managed to intercept official reports from the Alliance, she decimated the Alliance forces with an unknown variation of Undead that emitted, ahem, 'a foul deep purple smoke' from their eyes and mouths. She also accomplished this without the aid of any other Cult members, wiping out the entire landing party." I schooled my features as I started internally. This was more than mere rumors then. Perhaps… more than just an eye out was necessary. This Wraith would have to be dealt with, and soon, before whatever rotten plan that festers in their mind comes to fruition…
I would send out new orders the moment this meeting was done, there was to be a shift in priorities. I toyed with the idea of petitioning the Warchief to have them targeted by Adventurer hit squads or assassins, but no, it would take far too long…
"According to information obtained from the Ebon Blade, there is an order of Death Knights serving under her, at least during that particular battle, one by the name of 'The Corrupted Blood'." The woman made a noise of disgust, one that was shared among many Executors and even a few apothecaries, with even Putress stopping what he was doing to make his displeasure known. I could understand it, the Corrupted Blood was an unnatural disease that defied any attempt to reverse engineer or cultivate it artificially, a shame as its abilities had proven… impressive.
That didn't mean the Apothecaries hadn't made use of it, only that they held a particular dislike of the curse-like disease.
The Executor waited for the room's displeasure to settle before continuing on. "According to Mograine, the Corrupted Blood are, ahem, quote, 'a group of savages and butcherers that make any other Order pale in comparison'. Made up exclusively of Troll Death Knights, they're a small Order, but consist of several of the most dangerous Death Knights personally raised by the Lich King."
"... Unfortunately, that's all we were able to obtain on the 'Corrupted Blood', and it's entirely possible that they and 'Wraith' parted ways after fighting in the Borean Tundra." A frown found its way onto my face, I doubted we would be that lucky. No, it was far more likely the Corrupted Blood worked with the anomaly that is Wraith.
With her report finished the Executor backed up and stood amongst the rest of the Dreadguard officers, letting us all mull over the information on this new threat. This Wraith was an important individual, there was no doubt to this with both the feats and power that she displayed, the question now was on where she slotted into the Scourge and how to kill her. That information wou-
"My Lady!"
I and nearly every other member of this meeting looked up as a Ranger came rushing into the room, clutching a letter in her hand. "Vorel." My voice betrayed nothing, but I was curious as to why Vorel, one of the… younger Rangers raised from the Ghostlands, disturbed a meeting for a simple letter. Perhaps one could chalk it up to inexperience or misjudging the situation, but no member of my Dark Rangers was incompetent or a fool. It was a letter from neither the Horde nor Alliance, the only faction that could send such a letter, so fast as to have a Ranger treat it as time-sensitive…?
Something felt off about this.
Falling to a knee right before me, she held out the letter for me to take, replying to my unspoken question as I took the letter in hand. "A letter from Dalaran, my Lady." As I suspected. "Delivered by several Battlemages." And it gets stranger still. Battlemages weren't used to deliver simple letters, they were far too valuable and prideful to lower themselves to mere errand boys. Which meant someone with significant pull was able to order them to do it.
A feeling of dread began to build within me.
Whatever the case was that led the elite of the Kirin Tor to be delivering a letter personally instead of through apprentices or familiars was important enough to put off the current meeting to read it immediately. Pulling one of my knives out, I cut through the eyed seal of Dalaran and pulled out the parchment, putting all of my attention on the message within.
'Sylvanas.'
An eye rose in response to the first word, and already I had an idea of who had sent this letter, almost none among the Mages of Dalaran would use my name, and my dear Sister would use 'Sister' or 'Elder Sister' to address me… Meaning that this was from her husband instead, Red Hair Rhonin.
A good man, one that I approved of, even if our family hadn't. Not that any of us three sisters cared overly much about that… A shame Nathanos was so… worshipful, otherwise, I would have contemplated marrying the man. As it was now, he was a useful apprentice, even if he was overly attached to his old home in the Plaguelands.
I rid myself of old sentiments and continued on, face passive and eyes half-closed.
'I will get straight to the point and not mince words.' Strange… Rhonin was typically more… sentimental, at least in the past when I kept in touch with Vereesa. A tinge of apprehension and dread flitted through me before I crushed it and kept reading. 'Something has happened to Vereesa.' If my blood still flowed, it would have turned to ice and stopped, as it stood, I felt the phantom imitation of it grip me.
'After arriving above 'Crystalsong Forest' in the middle of the continent, an expedition was sent out to research some anomalies. Vereesa and her rangers were to act as a guard detail for a Kirin Tor detachment led by a member of the Six, Aethas Sunreaver.' The name was familiar… but I couldn't recall who this 'Aethas' was, regardless of his position as a member of the Kirin Tor. Regardless of that, my attention was less on this 'Aethas' and more on what happened to my sister.
I kept reading, the ice in my veins gripping my soul and refusing to let me stop until I knew what had happened to Vereesa. 'Night Elf and Dryad Specters, alongside Crystalline Satyrs ambushed the expedition. A full third of the expedition was lost, including Vereesa. Aethas is in critical condition after channeling too much mana, and most of the expedition is marginally better.' … 'I don't know if she is alive or dead, but she is now in the hands of an unnaturally powerful necroman-'
My body shook. I finished the letter.
'-necromancer who may have some previous Druidic affiliation, of all things. I know what I ask of you is much, but my hands are tied. There are rumors of traitors and everyone I trust is ensuring that Dalaran does not fall in the coming battle against the Aspect of Magic.
I'm Sorry,
Rhonin
The parchment crumpled as my hand tightened.
Oppressive silence weighed on the room as I looked up, my eyes wrathful and hard as I looked over to Anselm, the man doing his absolute best to remain still as my gaze settled on him. "Anselm." He made no move other than keeping his attention fully on me, the ice in my voice enough to broker not a word from him. "You are in command. Continue our advance and deploy whatever is necessary to deal with any problems."
"Yes, my Lady."
Looking over to the other side of the table, my eyes landed on Putress, who finally looked at me with his full attention. "I want the Blight deployable wherever it needs to be Putress." There were no grandiose gestures, no comments, or anything that was the norm for the Grand Apothecary, he simply bowed in confirmation of my words.
"Areiel, gather the Rangers. We leave in five minutes." I didn't wait to hear if my Second acknowledged my words, already making for the door outside to prepare my mount for the journey. Outside it was as dreary and miserable as it had been since landing here, though the men and women who'd come to claim Vengeance against Arthas gave me a wide berth as I made my way to the stables, knowing better than to approach me with my mood as it was.
It took no time at all to ready my steed, even if I was attached to the beasts I used, these were barely sentient bones held together by necromancy and the barding that caged them. One could afford to be rough and hasty with them, so long as they weren't overly damaged, and given the news, I was not of the mind to be delicate with creatures as dull as Abominations. I was mounted and waiting, of half a mind to charge ahead alone.
Fortunately for me, my Dark Rangers arrived shortly after I exited atop my mount, preparing their own mounts for the journey. Each Ranger was one I personally instructed, either in Life or in Undeath, and while they may be few overall compared to the other militaries of the Horde, my eight hundred Dark Rangers together could topple nations. Unfortunately, I could only bring to bear a fraction of that amount, many of my Rangers in vital roles back in the Eastern Kingdoms, or scouting for the Hand of Vengeance.
If I remember the deployment schedules right there were just under two hundred stationed here ready to move out and follow me to Crystalsong Forest.
No words were said when the five minutes were up, nothing needed to be said to my Rangers since they knew their duty was to follow me, wherever I led them. All that I did to signal our advance was urge my mount forward, the dead creature bursting into a sprint towards the lift leading to the Fjord proper.
Whoever, whatever, had taken my Sister would regret its choice, much like Arthas would when the Hand of Vengeance broke his walls with Blight and Vengeance. I would make certain that Vereesa was recovered, or avenged in the worst case.
It was time to take care of things, myself.
[??? - Tether]
When I opened my eyes I expected one of two things. One, to wake in the field of graves, or two, to wake up in Partner's mad crystalline castle. Instead, I woke on an orderly and pristine wide walkway paved and fitted perfectly with stone brick. Turning my head left and right, I saw I was still flanked by the sea of graves, but they too had changed. No longer were they degraded and decrepit, ill-cared for, and reminiscent of a horror movie, with shabby grass and moss.
No, now the graves were cared for and orderly, their degradation now clearly from sheer aging rather than apathy. The grass was cut and properly covered the ground. Fascinating. If this place represented my soul as Partner said it did, then what did this say about me now? What brought about those changes?
I wanted to investigate, but the second set of eyes I had dictated that was going to have to be put on the back burner. "W-what?" Alex's voice was… diminished? Normal? I shook my head and turned to address her, it didn't matter. "Calm yourself, you're in my soul, with how connected you are to me now I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
That got her attention as she focused on me. "That shouldn't be-" She closed her eyes and breathed. "No, no. It was clear to me before…" She turned to the sea of graves. "Are they real or is it just a symbolic representation?"
Before, I had just assumed it was symbolism. But, that was before I saw how Partner handled the memories of the souls we ate. Now… I walked forward and brushed my not-there-but-real hand over one of the graves.
Panic. Light. Pain. Release.
And was promptly assaulted by weak and fleeting flashes of memory and emotion. This one died during my fight with Zion. Without turning to address her I responded, "No, they are very much real. Each grave - a soul."
I dully gazed at the unending sea of stone, no longer feeling accused by them, but at the same time…
Alex asked the next obvious question, "Is there an end-" "No." I cut her off. "Not one that would make a difference." After all, how did that quote go? One death is a tragedy, one million is a statistic. What was the difference between one and two billion? A trillion? There was a point for everyone where the number no longer mattered, and I knew with a cold certainty that the only thing that was the exception would be the very creatures that filled this graveyard.
Alexstrasza shifted back and forth, eyes focused on me, clearly wanting to say something but unsure. I turned to see her gazing at me with sad eyes, filled with pity and sympathy. Once we made eye contact she opened her mouth, seemingly finding her courage. "I think I understand, now, why…"
I gave her a queer look, what was that supposed to mean? As if hearing my thoughts, and here she just might, she clarified. "When I first heard of you, I thought of you as nothing more than another ambitious Scourge pawn. When I next heard of your exploits, I believed you to be a Hermit, turned to the Scourge." She then paused and carefully continued, "When we met at Dragonblight I had thought you to be some unholy abomination crafted by the darkest minds of the Scourge. But the Dryads, Gnomon, the Purewell… It made me realize how wrong I was."
She gestured out to the landscape, sweeping her hand over the unending field, "But being here, seeing this, feeling your soul - unfiltered by reality. You are not a construct of the Titans. You are not some monster or minion of the many factions of forces that ended beyond Azeroth." She turned back to me and gave me a scrutinizing look. "I don't know what you are, but I do know that your duty weighs heavy on you. I've seen what someone looks like when they are pleased with their lot in life, and that is not you."
Huh. That… I suppose that level of insight was expected when you lived longer than civilizations. And that was no exaggeration, Alexstrasza had said it herself - our souls were bared to each other, and hers carried an age to it that couldn't be put into words. My response of exaggerated shrug and a mumbled, "I guess," felt insufficient, but I wasn't really sure what I could say.
With clarity came doubt, old uncertainties, and insecurities niggling in my mind.
I needed answers, and as always I only had one person I could turn to. What was it Partner said? This realm was controlled by thought? So all I had to do was think about her place and turn-
"I think it is best we remain here for now." To be interrupted by Partner appearing behind us, still in my realm, with the headstones continuing as far as the eye can see, with the path extending as indefinitely into the horizon.
Alexstrasza sucked in a breath as I watch eyes dart between the two of us. I suppose Partner would certainly be a sight. One arm was made of crystal, the other wearing a chitin piece that was a mix of armor and arm-length glove, stellar constellation like 'wings', wearing - of all things - a battle-dress made of spider silk and chitin with crystalline plates of armor. Of course, she also happened to look exactly like me, or rather like how I used to, black hair and all. I smiled, "Partner."
She gave me a sad smile in return, her demeanor subdued. "Taylor… Wraith… No. Perhaps it's time to rip that band-aid off. You have questions, I have answers." She looked away, guilty. "Answers that may be… unbelievable? Enraging? I just- I just wanted."
I frowned as Alexstrasza continued to look between the two of us confused, bewildered, and worried. "Partner, you aren't making sense." My own worry bubbled in me. My insides felt off.
Queen Administrator hugged herself, hunching in, "I wanted to live a fantasy, I didn't know- I didn't think- I just wanted to enjoy it a bit longer. But Bwonsamdi, the Lich King," Her face took on a rictus of rage and hate, "and Kel'Thuzad forced it. The longer we continued, the more you were…. so you." Her face eased as she favored me with a small smile, one that did nothing to reassure me, only increasing the dread that had begun to build inside me. It was the sort of wistful smile I'd give lost in nostalgia.
"What are you saying?" I wanted to know. I needed to know.
She closed her eyes and pointed. "Turn around and touch the statue. And please," She turned her head away in shame, "Forgive me."
I didn't want to turn around, I wanted to demand answers. But Alexstrasza did it for me, and between her sucked breath and seeing what she saw, I couldn't not turn around and see it myself.
It was a cul-de-sac, framed by larger, more intricate, and fresher gravestones and dominated by mausoleums of various sizes. All of which was interesting, and no doubt something I'd want to investigate any other day, but what consumed my attention was the statue that stood on a platform in the center, taking up the whole space. Or rather, I should say statues.
On the platform, there were four statues, one for each stage of my life, with intricate detail beyond anything else I had seen. Near life-like in its depictions. Taylor was curled into a ball at the feet of the other three. Skitter, my life as a villain, is slightly hunched and imposing. Weaver, my time as a hero, stood undaunted, posed like an Alexandria model. And Khepri stood above them all on a dais, intentional scoring littered her form as she stood head held high, defiant even with a missing limb.
No. I couldn't accept what I saw. Alexstraza, however, didn't get the memo. "Wraith, I thought there were only graves here. What is this statue of… you but… not?"
My jaw worked uselessly as I tried to form some sort of thought, some explanation that made the spiders clawing up and down my spine go away. Anything that thawed the ice that consumed me. "Because there are only graves in their world." I turned to… Partner? Queen Administrator? Taylor?
Who was she? Who was I? We both stood here at the resting place of the person we were, are, never were? I wanted answers, not… this. I felt sick, vertigo hit me even as impossible as it was. My thoughts were all over the place, what was I supposed to say? Do?
How do you react to finding out you aren't who you thought you were when it's all you've ever known?
The wistful smile made a sickening amount of sense.
"Go. Touch the statue, and if after you still want to speak to me, I will answer."
Slowly, robotically, as if my feet were lead anchors I dragged myself to the statues and raised my-but-not-my hand that did-but-didn't exist and placed it on the platform, bracing myself for whatever I would see.
[𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍]
We heard the gunshots. The cracking of thunder.
We felt as the bullets entered T̷̵̸̨̀́͟͢͝á̴̶̧̛͘҉̷̧̢̨̕͟͜͝͞ỳ̵̷̵̵̷̡̧́̕͜͜͟͟͝͠͝͠͝͡͞l͢͝҉̸̸̸͘͟͟͟͢͟͟͠͡͡͞͝͝͠҉̛͟ơ̸̶̷̴̴̵̢̡̛̕͘̕͟͢͢͝͡͞͠͞ŗ̸̷̛̛̀̕̕͘͢͜͡͡͝͞҉̛'̷͜͢҉̵̧́̕͞͡s̴ Head.
Shared closure as we fell, knowing this was the end.
Time seemed to lose all meaning as we fell back, through the Door.
And we fell.
And I fell.
And I fell.
Wherever it went, I did not stop falling.
Couldn't even if I wanted to.
I lost all feeling.
Lost all taste, touch, hearing, smell…
But not my sight.
I gazed upon the stars as I fell.
We were all so very small, in the end.
I did not know how long I watched the stars and fell.
Time no longer held meaning, it could have been days, weeks, years… minutes… seconds…
But something in me held on.
And so I fell.
And so I watched the stars.
Until…
Until one day there was one less star.
Then two.
Three.
And I began to count time by stars.
Watched as one by one the stars winked out.
As light faded.
Then one day I stopped counting.
Because there were no more stars to count.
Yet, I still fell.
There was nothing but the void of space left.
Then I stopped falling.
Because there was nothing left to fall in.
Some, distant, broken, part of my existence screamed.
Screamed out of loss.
For there was nothing left.
Only me.
It was then I realized.
I was all alone.
There were no stars.
There was no space.
There was only Me.
I was at The End.
And yet, in spite of that…
I wanted to live.
In the far distance, Light erupted from nothing.
Grey AN: Just for the record, Sciscitatia 3 was meant to be a single chapter. It became… 40k words. That is the reason behind there being three sections.
Grey AN: We are on number five or six of us calling something since we started the story, and Blizzard going 'that's canon'. It's amazing what Sneaky's power of foresight accomplishes.
Sneaky: also like, i saw someone rec our story saying its "too slow" plot wise and the "action goes on for too long" which throws me for a fucking ride because people like Parcasious exist and people pay him 1k a months to write the novel equivalent of DBZs 94 episodes long fight scenes. Also, Taylor's fight scenes only drag when she fights literal fucking raid bosses and armies while accompanied by entire armies and dragonflights… god forbid she doesn't just oneshot everything the second a fight starts…
[Onslaught Harbor]
I arrived at the bustling dockyard of my Harbor, workers moving supplies this way and that, and was nearly immediately joined by Thessa… I had to wonder if it was pure luck on her end, or some ability she had to seemingly appear instantly by my side the moment I arrived. It could honestly go either way, especially as I remember her ability to literally slide through shadows. Before I could say anything, either to question her about the topic or to ask her about the Harbor, Heinrich strode up and joined us. Hrm, luck then.
Wasting no time, Heinrich gave me a nod. "My Lady."
"Heinrich. Thessa." Thessa gave me her own greeting of 'My Lady' in response before slinking to my side, Heinrich proceeding to take up my attention as I turned to him. "How goes the construction efforts?"
"The defenses of the Harbor will be finished by the day's end." He gestured towards the mostly constructed ramparts and towers. The scaffolding that once covered the area was now reduced down to select sections. "Reconstruction of the other parts of the Harbor will take a few more days once we have the materials shipped in."
That was good. That was really good. When I was ready to stop pretending my allegiance to the Scourge I would need to have the Harbor and my Port at peak defensive capabilities. With the Harbor finished the rest of my resources could go into the Port to accelerate its progress. Conveniently, The Barrows I could largely leave alone, its entire existence alone was a deterrent and defensive measure wrapped into one.
My thoughts stopped as my scanning eyes spotted an odd Onslaught march by. It wasn't that the armor they wore was eccentric, nor was it that it was particularly eye-catching. No, if anything, what caught my attention was how rooted in reality, rather than fantasy, it was, unlike most of what I'd seen in this world. Mixed in that little over-the-edge fantasy element given the sheer amount of metal and… girth of the armor set. There were still other hints of fantasy-esque minutiae in it, but overall it was something that I expected of an exaggerated late medieval knight… if they decked themselves in an abundance of plate.
Dark, near black, metal covered them from head to toe, with their profile coming out to just a bit bigger than Heinrich himself in his own armor. Their helmet was fully encompassing, with what I could barely make out as little cross-shaped holes letting them see out of it. A protruding gorget added some protection to their neck, while the rest of their chestpiece was unmarred save for a single dangling chain linked to a pendant of some kind. Two oversized pauldrons added color, with a splash of dark violet in between the edging.
The armor was truly all-covering and thick, I could barely see any gaps in its coverage. Going lower, a fauld obscured the armor up to their knees, from which a cloth banner hung adding a much-needed splash of color to the otherwise grim and imposing armor. On which was heraldry of sorts, violet fabric with a red border, housing a white skull with red flames on it… I didn't know what it was meant to represent, but it had to be important given that they had taken it as their symbol.
And to top it off, they had a weapon that I hadn't seen anyone else wield since coming here, a halberd. It brought back distant memories of long ago, of an arrogant ass of a Hero. Of someone who went through and grew as much as I did despite digging themselves for years into a deeper rut than I. I shook my head dispelling my memories, it wasn't time for reminiscing, not in front of my subordinates, at least.
However, with that revelation, I had that they changed more than just the buildings on this island I began looking closely at the other Onslaught around the dockyard. I quickly noticed that none of them were wearing the old armor and gear that I'd last seen them with. Some wore full plate armor, with only a greatsword strapped to their back as they offloaded, moved, or performed some other task with the materials being unloaded. Others wore what looked like leather overcoats and jupons, stained near-black, with only the glint of black metal telling me of the mail underneath, and armed with sheathed swords and shields.
And all of them had that symbol of a white skull with red flames on a backdrop of violet displayed proudly somewhere on them.
Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I looked back at Heinrich and asked the question on my mind. "I see that new equipment has been handed out. Though I have to ask… what is that symbol they are wearing?"
"Had enough Saronite for the smiths to make new weapons and armor, but not enough to armor everyone the same. Stuff's stronger and lighter than steel. Decided it was time we reorganized our tactics with the equipment upgrade." Heinrich was blunt and to the point, as he shrugged, something that I appreciated as I listened to him. "As for the symbol, it's the mark we chose to wear to show our allegiance."
… That needed an answer. "And why is the symbol meant to represent me, a skull on fire?"
There was a bout of silence as Heinrich looked at Thessa, who just shrugged her shoulders at the question that passed between the two silently. Turning back to me, Heinrich also shrugged. "You'd have to ask the Priors, they were the ones to come up with it." At my silent gaze, he continued without hesitation at my unasked follow-up question. "They're up at the Cathedral, in the room where you strung up the Demon. Haven't left it after they received their armor."
Well, it seemed I'd be having a conversation with the 'Priors', whoever they were, once I finished checking in with these two. "Well, it seems I have lots to catch up on with the status of the harbor. Why don't we start with what you feel are the most important updates?"
Thessa chose to speak this time instead of Heinrich, clearly, she was just waiting for my invitation as she immediately started the moment I finished asking. "Certainly, my Lady. With our… resurrection under you previous strategies had to be reconsidered, and the shipments of processed Saronite accelerated that. The Onslaught had to be rebuilt from the ground up, from troop distribution to specialties to target focus. Fortunately, we had little issue due to our experiences from previous restructuring helping smooth the transition to different weapons, armor, and tactics."
I nodded and said nothing, letting her continue. "Everyone that wasn't a Priest was run through their paces with each category of weapon that was shipped to us, and once the smiths figured out how to forge it, halberds too. The six known as the Priors immediately showed exceptional prowess above the rest, enough that they were the first armored with Saronite arms and armor." She paused, likely giving me time to ask questions, but if I did now, I would likely say something foolish… like why would halberds be relevant. I had to be careful with my words as I had to remind myself that these people were all religious fanatics that might take my words as commandments.
I felt slightly guilty, I hadn't exactly given them much time to get to know me, with how often I rushed everywhere or spent my time doing other things…
Seeing as I wasn't about to comment, Thessa continued on, "After the Priors retreated to the Revelatorium, we established and focused on ensuring the new Oblates and Custos were up to the standards Heinrich set. Heinrich and I also founded our own personal groups filled with those we knew suited our methods."
Two more terms… though this time it was simple enough to realize they were referring to a category of soldier they had invented. "Custos, Oblates?" Actually saying those names aloud, it sounded something like Latin, which I had to say was confusing to a degree. Something scratched at my brain.
Heinrich grunted and answered instead, blunt and to the point. "Custos, meant for handing the larger and tougher monster, were given greatswords - their plate was refit for better coverage. The Oblates were formed from those who did not show particular aptitude for any other rank. Shortswords, axes, maces, kite shields, and chainmail were issued to them. Don't have enough Saronite to give them armor of their own yet. One of the leatherworkers was inspired and fashioned leather overcoats to protect it from the environment." I nodded in response before turning back to Thessa. "The others?"
"I looked for individuals suited to scouting and with an aptitude for Shadow. Few of those among the Onslaught, but those few trained well as my Shadows." A group dedicated to scouting and infiltration, something that I lacked? I was glad Thessa and Heinrich proved so forward thinking and capable, you know, for ex(?)-fanatical cultists on a suicide mission. Not that I was complaining, it was just not something that I expected to just land in my lap after everything else that had happened.
"Heinrich meanwhile focused on finding the strongest and toughest, those he deemed worth his notice to form the Rectors. He swears by that training regime he learned in Naxxramas, and disseminated it to them. They are our solution to the super-heavy and monstrous infantry the Scourge can field, now that we no longer have to worry about such things as exhaustion."
I had to assume that the Onslaught I saw in the hulking suit of Saronite was a Rector then… which was strange on account of the weapon choice. I'd have thought that Heinrich would have those he trained use the same style and weapon as himself… but then again he used a hammer and shield while his own mentor used fisticuffs. Oh, that was why they used halberds, the extra leverage would amplify their blows and allow them to 'safely' attack things like the Abominations who normally towered over the average human.
Hrm, it felt good to know I made the right choice in leaving things to those two, but the names… It still bothered me. "Who came up with those names?" It wasn't that I had issues with them… it was more the fact that outside the Shadows, the rest of the names sounded like church titles or something that would come from a Latin dictionary.
"The Priors did." Of course, they did. "They said it came from their meditations in the Revelations Sacristy. You'd have to ask them if you want their reasoning." The more I learned about whoever these six Priors were the more curious I became about them. It seems they were responsible for, if not the military reorganization, the cultural shift that allowed for it to happen. They were a group that I absolutely needed to talk to before I left the Harbor, while so far their influence has been positive when it came to religious fanatics, it was best to make sure they didn't get any strange ideas about me. I paused and looked down at my not-quite-there skeletal arm, the Deathly miasma I emitted, and then up at the Twisted Death-mote Deadwood Staff as the somehow still-living Deadwood slowly creaked and groaned around the Mote.
Well. Stranger-er ideas about me.
"Boss Lady." … God. Damn. It.
I slowly turned to face the troll, steadying myself so my irritation didn't leak out. "Yes, Tzo'zi?"
If Tzo'zi was bothered by my tone, he didn't show it in the slightest, instead bulldozing forward. "Bwonsamdi felt ya come. He wants ta talk wit' ya." That was ominous. Whoever this 'Bwonsamdi' was, they had enough influence over Tzo'zi that he was willing to be an errand boy to come and get me to speak with them. Meaning, that I couldn't just brush off a meeting with them to pursue my own curiosity with the Priors.
A sigh left my lips. "Fine." Looking back at Thessa and Heinrich, I gave them a parting word. "We are done here for now. Tell the Priors that I'll be seeing them after I speak with this Bwonsamdi. If there is anything else I must absolutely know, one of you can join me when I meet with the Priors." Giving me a bow and a nod respectively, Heinrich walked off to continue what he had been doing, while Thessa melted away from sight as if she'd never been here in the first place. Turning back to Tzo'zi I motioned for him to lead the way, following after him towards the camp he and his Order had made for themselves.
I felt it prudent to ask about this Bwonsamdi before we reached the camp, though it took me until we were on the bridge to organize my thoughts and actually ask them. "Who is Bwonsamdi, Tzo'zi? And what connection do they have with you."
Tzo'zi turned his head to look back at me for a moment before continuing onward, replying after a brief pause. "Bwonsamdi be de patron Loa of de Corrupted Blood. We made a pact wit' de Loa of Death when we were raised as Death Knights. Nothin' left ta lose and everyting ta gain." Something that I'd neglected up until now was the origins of the Death Knight order, stupid in hindsight, but I suppose I never thought they would actually stick with me long enough without betrayal. I suppose that in of itself told me more about Tzo'zi and his order, and of their patron 'Loa' who I had an uneasy feeling about with the talk of deals.
Why was there always far too many things I needed to do and never enough time to actually do them?
Regardless, whatever Bwonsamdi was, he was a being of power, likely some sort of tribal spirit considering the trolls and their… culture. The second was that, before anything else, Tzo'zi and his Order were beholden to this Bwonsamdi, and if I wanted to continue having their services, I'd need to play nice with him. The last thing I needed was their Loa to tell them to strike me down because I'd angered it or something else.
I didn't have too long to think, as we neared the Corrupted Blood camp quickly, devoid of any of the other members of Tzo'zi's Order. The scenery with its various shrines, morbid icons and carved totems, and encroaching fog gave an atmosphere that… felt comforting for some odd reason.
"Well, well. Been a long time Tzo'zi. And here I thought ya were avoidin' poor ol' Bwonsamdi."
I slowly turned to face the voice speaking to Tzo'zi, and what I found there… was an eclectic sight. Not the first thing that came to mind if you would ask me what a 'Death God' looked like, and yet…
He certainly looked the part. His base body was that of a blue-skinned Troll, though with dark-blue skin etched with glowing blue tattoos that oozed an aura of death around him. His right arm looked as if they had been sewn together in a primitive manner at his bicep, complete with visible staples of what looked like bone. His fingers had no skin on them, just boney digits that tapered off to sharp points, alongside a few other places on his arms where skin just ceased to be. Midnight black hair stood straight up straight while glowing ice-blue flames in place of eyes burned with magic drifting from his sockets.
Wearing a macabre set of clothing and accessories that screamed a tribal and savage exaltation of death, from the pauldrons made of bones lined with hanging skulls, the skull that was his upper face, a shrunken head at his waist, and numerous bones making up his 'armor' underneath the red-feathered waist cape… He looked the part of a tribal deity of Death, as opposed to the depictions that would be more in line with the likes of pure Undead, monstrous twisted forms, or even my own Idolization as the Grim Reaper.
No, it wasn't his looks that had me off-guard… It was the way that this 'Loa of Death' conducted himself that had me flat-footed.
Bwonsamdi wasn't some regal, serious, or even fierce God. Instead, he lounged across the top of the altar dedicated to him as if it was a sofa, arm propping up his head as he lazily grinned down at Tzo'zi.
Tzo'zi barely reacted to his God's words, shrugging his shoulders in reply. "Tzo'zi had ta build a new shrine. Takes time. Ya wanted something from de Boss Lady, yeah?"
At that Bwonsamdi leisurely looked my way, but despite that cocksure grin and light-hearted expression, I could feel the weight of his gaze looking over me. "So, ya be Wraith den? Tzo'zi said a lot bout ya." I didn't tense up, I'd been under the gaze of far stronger beings before after all. No, I just kept my attention on Bwonsamdi, staring back without a hint of arrogance as I gave my reply.
"And yet, I haven't heard a thing about you from him until just now."
Sitting up, Bwonsamdi kept that smile on his face, letting out a chuckle that did little to reassure me. "Well. I like ta introduce ma'self personally. So don't be blamin' little Tzo'zi now." Considering that this was my third encounter with Tzo'zi, I couldn't really blame him. As much as I'd been running around, I hadn't had time to sit down and talk with anyone except Gothik just a few hours earlier. I'd have to rectify that, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be any time soon. "Da name's Bwonsamdi. Loa of Graves and Death. A pleasure."
Well, I understood why Tzo'zi worshiped Bwonsamdi… though, given the personality and domain, he reminded me of someone I'd seen before… Some character that I'd watched back on Bet with Mom and Dad. I just couldn't remember what their name was, nor even what they looked like, I just remembered Death God and a light-hearted demeanor overall.
I threw away that thought, it again wasn't the time to start reminiscing, for now, I had a Loa to converse with and introduce myself to. "I am…" I paused. The setting, how he introduced himself, the talk of deals, the casual way the Loa could supersede the Lich King's control over the Death Knights as a nonphysical Spirit… It tickled memories of another three letter species, and if I was right… Names were… important. I had called myself Wraith so long ago because I felt like a pale shadow of myself. While I didn't think it mattered much with the mortals, the Priestess and now the Loa before me proved that Faith was quite a real and present thing with capital G Gods that could answer. "I am known by the mortals as Wraith. Now, what is it that you wanted from me, Bwonsamdi?"
Immediately the air grew heavy, and in the blink of an eye, Bwonsamdi was gone from my sight, making me tense up as I heard the whisper in my ear behind me. "Answerin' a Name with a Title, huh? Dat not be a great way ta start off with ol' Bwonsamdi." I said nothing, preparing myself for whatever Bwonsamdi was about to do, whether it be just intimidation or a prelude to a fight. "But, I'll let it slide, I can see right through ya' an whateva Name yah originally held don't mean much anymore, so ya' best be findin anotha for ya' self."
And then the pressure lifted, as the Loa 'defused' the situation entirely, waltzing around me and walking away as if he hadn't just threatened me. I see. So I was right in my suspicions. But if it considered 'Wraith' a Title and not a Name… I did not like what he was implying. Yet I couldn't help but feel he was right.
Hopping onto the wooden fence and perching on it, Bwonsamdi pivoted back to me and gave a grin, completely at ease despite what he'd done just moments ago. "Anywho. I be just mindin' ma own business, taking in de dead, givin' em a good aftalife. And den I get a message from one o' ma priests. Ma' priests who don't directly call on me that much, what wit' all de Death and Decay I bring." That made sense, especially with what I knew of the Loa from scattered pieces of knowledge from the San'layn and what Tzo'zi had told me.
Jumping to his feet, still, atop the fence, Bwonsamdi decides to pace along it as he continues speaking, paying only the barest attention to where he's going. "And ma favored tells me about de being he serves. Dat his destiny told 'im bout way in de past. And I get curious." Hopping off and landing without a sound, he made his way back to me, leaning down to look me in the eye with a smirk drawn over his face. "So I ask ta meet ya. And here we be." And then he frowned and mumbled, "Nevah thought Da End would be so tiny."
For a few moments, we stayed in that position, silence weighing heavily as he waited for my response. "You honestly expect me to believe that you called me here, had Tzo'zi bring forth, all for what? Satisfying your curiosity? Tell me what you want of me, Spirit."
He leaned back, a tutting sound leaving Bwonsamdi as he went. "Forceful, I can respect dat, but den again it ain't gonna win you any friends." I bristled but held my tongue as he backed away from me and started talking animatedly. "Ey, ey, 'mon, easy dere. Jus callin' it like I see it. Anyways… I did a bit o' looking around, and I found some tings out. Ya' bein busy for bein what yah are, eh?" I narrowed my eyes, still unsure where he was trying to go with this. Was he attempting to hold something over me, to extort me? I hadn't exactly kept a sterling record, but he had Tzo'zi as a favored faithful and he quite literally scalps people alive. Why is it always with the power games? "So. I've come to make a Deal with ya, Wraith."
I took a moment to respond, registering what Bwonsamdi had said as he meandered away from me. Eventually, I followed after the Loa, replying to him as I got close. "And what is this… deal?" I couldn't help the curiosity in my voice… He called himself a Loa, yet talked about Names and Titles, and now Deals. Whatever this Deal was, I would have to be cautious, the rules of this world were still new to me.
He didn't turn around, merely chuckling darkly, and looking over his shoulder, a single light blue eye staring into me. "I help ya with ya chains. Ya help me with mine."
I frowned, that was a shallow offer no matter how you looked at it. If my binding worked, I wouldn't be able to agree. If my binding was weak enough for me to agree it would be weak enough that I would be able to do it myself… So he is either misinformed or thinks I'm too weak to break free. The fact that he can talk of his binding at all means he's in a similar situation as myself, not breaking free intentionally, but the fact that he's asking for help means… It means he agreed, or was pressured into agreeing, to the binding and it's now a deal he wants to back out of.
He wants to offer me a deal to do something I could do myself to assist him in breaking off his end of a deal he didn't want to uphold. I shook my head, I wasn't desperate enough to align myself with a bad-faith wheeler-dealer, not this time at least. 'This is a waste of time, I have better things to do. I'll make up for whatever offense I deal to Tzo'zi later.' Without saying a word I turned and intended to walk away.
"Hey! Hey, now. Before yah be thinkin' ol' Bwonsamdi ain't good on his word, at least hear 'im out first..." I paused at the hints of desperation in Bwonsamdi's voice, coming from right behind me again. I turned around to find him lounging on another of his shrines like it was a throne, only leaning forward with his hands steepled once he knew he had my attention. He flashed away in a burst of blue ghostly fire and appeared in front of me. "Let Bwonsamdi lay his cards out," He swiped his hand with a flourish as an ethereal table appeared, in his other hand, a deck burned itself into existence. With another swipe, the deck was splayed across it. "On da table."
He raised a card with his left hand, a picture of a ball with a broken chain on it. "Ya want out o' de Scourge, ya want ta be Free." I narrowed my eyes but otherwise didn't react in any other way. How did he piece it together? It took one of the people who made my chains a sit-down chat with me to even realize how much I had slipped them. Outwardly, I had been the consummate villain. The card burned up, then appeared in his other outstretched hand. "I. Want to be ma own Loa. Free ta do as I please. We're not so different. Not in de ways dat matta." He placed it in the center of the table.
Damn this world and damn how much fantasy is proving to be reality. Of course, some tribal death god who goes on about Names and Deals can't find a blunt honest bone in their body especially after saying an ominous and theatrically delivered statement like 'I'm going to lay it all out on the table.' But what I did remember from the books was one important tidbit of information. Do not let Them phrase or construct anything they do for you as a favor or a measure of effort that leaves you indebted to them if you could help it.
So to start with, I had a Loa to bargain with. I picked up the card he placed in the center with my now bony ethereal arm. Thankfully, my impulsive decision worked out as the magic of my missing arm was able to interact with the magical cards, otherwise, this would have been embarrassing. I made a show of looking at it before, with a bit of a stretch, I placed it on the left side of the table. If I was right, he had put it into the center because it was something we both wanted. "...Your assistance is at this time neither required nor appreciated. You say we can break each other's chains but I feel that quite the lopsided offer, with how easily I can slip mine. So, tell me then, Bwonsamdi, what can you offer me?"
He chuckled and made no motion to move the card, so it looks like we were on the same wavelength. "Interestin', now dat's news tah Bwonsamdi, very well den, what can I offa' yah?" Bwonsamdi's grin stretched across his face, hands rubbing together as an excitement crept through him. He swiped a card off the table and showed me its face. In the bottom right was a crowned lion, and in the upper left was an upside-down pair of crossed axes, with a crescent moon in the center of the card.
"Ya' don't need powah or prestige, yah got too much o' de stuff anyways."
His free hand waved dismissively at the idea. With an admittedly impressive show of dexterity, for having only two fingers, the card spun around in his hand to show me its face again. This time it was an open tome.
"Ya don't need knowledge, ya want to find dat on yah own."
Bwonsamdi sighed and slapped the card down on the table into the pile of splayed out face down cards. Which I just noticed also now had the face-up card containing the lion, axe, and moon.
Bwonsamdi was not wrong about my pursuit of knowledge, while answers would be nice it certainly wasn't going to be something I was going to bargain for. Anything knowledge-wise I would bargain for from the Death God I didn't know I needed to ask yet. It was a situation reminiscent of the early days of Dinah's powers, I suppose. Only getting the answer to precisely the question you asked, not what you needed, and often only knowing what you needed to ask after you received your answer.
Bwonsamdi slumped on the ghostly table, one hand propping up his face, the other drumming on the face-down cards. "Well den, dere be only one thing Bwonsamdi can be offerin' ya. What I offa, be a favah." He did another card trick, flipping over a card while not interrupting the beat with his drumming fingers. On the face of the card was a kneeling troll, showered in light.
A favor? My mouth thinned, I was hoping for something more concrete, troops, public support, anything that could help me pin down Kel'Thuzad. But still… When it comes to making deals with the Other Side, "What does this 'favor' consist of, Bwonsamdi?" It was best to be clear.
"One favah. Anyting ya want, within reason o' course." That was… quite vague, what constituted 'reason', but I could see the value in having a god-like being owing me a favor. "O' course, dis be for afta we break outta our chains. No use givin' a favah if de otha party can't use it, is there?" Which meant that the favor was a reward for both of us, and we'd be helping one another in any capacity to break our chains.
"... I suppose not." It wasn't a bad offer, having a Deity in your pocket for a single favor was very beneficial, however… "And how will either of us know what is 'within reason'?"
"Oh dat be simple. We ain't complicated are we? Loa be defined by what dey are, and what dey represent. Ya can just ask Tzo'zi what ol' Bwonsamdi represents later." I had a feeling that pumping Tzo'zi for information would be a far more enjoyable affair given his more blunt and straightforward nature, rather than play Bwonsamdi's circle-talk game.. I'd certainly neglected conversing a lot with how I'd been pulled one way and the next, and I needed to start fixing that. Disgruntled minions were easily swayed away from you. "And before ya ask. Ya aren't hard ta figure out Wraith. I won't be askin' ya anyting ya wouldn't do."
I was more offended than I should have been at Bwonsamdi's statement. I think it was more at the insinuation that I was simple than at the idea that a Death God had me pegged, but either way I held my tongue. In most stories I'd read, would be Gods were fickle beings, ones that would take back their boons or undermine their support at the slightest provocation and held grudges tightly… even on perceived slights. With a God that I didn't know anything about beyond this initial meeting, one that had asked for me and was offering me a deal, I wasn't about to take the chance of him looking to double-deal me like he is having me do to his previous exchange..
And yet…
What I did was audibly sigh, "Yet again, it seems like this favor of yours is a gift for freeing you, not something you are exchanging for freeing you as it's contingent on me upholding the entirety of the deal, while you risk nothing." I paused to look him in the eyes as he leered at me. So much for not offending him. "You want me to step up and work for your freedom, I want to see you put some skin in the game." What did I need? I had resources, I had forces, I had specialists. All of it was in a tangled web of bottlenecks, disproportionately increasing one factor gave me little return as the rest had to grow in proportion to be useful.
What I needed… was the backing of already established factions. I need alliances to give me legitimacy and to help prevent vendettas from carrying over once I dropped the Scourge. Plus it was something solidly in my camp in the exchange as I doubted Bwonsamdi didn't have his own plans after being freed. "I need friends." Bwonsamdi stopped his drumming to stare incredulously at me. Even Tzo'zi stopped pretending to not listen in order to plainly display his bafflement.
I winced under the shadow of my hood. Phrasing.
"My faction needs allies - legitimacy - if I am going to stand on my own. You are… established, in the know, surely you can… reach out in my stead, give even a token show of backing me to them. Do that and I consider the scale balanced."
Bwonsamdi slowly started nodding to my statement, carefully picking up a card and spinning it on his finger, the face showing two hands shaking, and with each rotation, the races of the hand changed along with the handshake moving up and down. An impressive bit of showmanship. "An Alliance, huh…" He caught the card and stared at it, before slowly placing it on my right. "Cleva', very clevah. An' yah thought me the weasel. Alright, yah got Bwonsamdi interested. I get you your Alliance. You get me my Freedom. An I gift you a' favah once its all ova'."
"So…" With a savage grin on his face, Bwonsamdi extended his hand out to me. "We got a deal?"
I didn't hesitate, reaching forward and clasping his arm with my right hand. His own hand of bone gripped the magic making up the arm as if it was flesh and blood, his smile growing bigger. "... We have a deal." I felt something spark and flow between the two of us as I spoke. It was a binding, more powerful than anything Kel'Thuzad placed on me. But, we would see if it was more resistant. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.
But I had no doubts that Bwonsamdi had some knowledge on how to circumvent or outright ignore the binding, he was older and had likely been Dealing for an equally long time. But for now, I would trust him to keep our bargain, at least until he was out of 'his chains', whatever they were.
"Pleasure doin' business with ya." Letting go of my arm he paced backward, giving a bow with an odd glint in his eyes. "Now I best be goin'. Loa of Death and all, I got a lot of tings to do, and nevah enough time. Don't be a stranga now."
Without another word, Bwonsamdi's form burst into blue flames, consuming him entirely and leaving nothing behind. Even with him gone though, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, something I had no doubt was because this was considered hallowed ground for him.
Ignoring that, I looked at Tzo'zi. "I have a meeting to attend. After I have finished, I wish to have a talk about you and the Corrupted Blood, Tzo'zi." The Death Knight shrugged his shoulders in response but didn't otherwise say a thing. Taking that as the end of the conversation, I turned on my heel and started my walk back to the Harbor.
It was only as I was halfway back that I stopped and questioned where the rest of the Corrupted Blood was, seeing as it was only myself, Tzo'zi, and Bwonsamdi at the camp. After much deliberation, I decided to shelve that for later. Perhaps I could see what Thessa could dig up to prep me for whenever I returned to ask Tzo'zi more about himself and his Knights. Partner save me, I had enough to deal with today. Far too many serious conversations in succession were eating away at me, and now I have to go talk to some religious fanatics that found themselves as the new cornerstone of the cultural renovation of more religious fanatics.
Joy.
The rest of the walk through the harbor was uneventful, with the sounds of smithing, the crunch of snow, the clanking of metal, and construction filling the cold air serving as a comforting backdrop as I made my way towards the Cathedral. I barely paid attention to my surroundings as I went, focused as I was on my meeting with the Priors, and what would come of it, and soon enough I was standing at the steps up to what could be called my 'home'.
"My Lady."
Had I been alive, I would have stopped at the sudden voice of Thessa right behind me. As it was, I merely turned around to find her saluting, a slight bow with her fist over her heart, in greeting. "Thessa. I assume something has come up if you're here?"
Straightening up, Thessa nodded her head before answering. "The last shipment of materials arrived while you were speaking with the Death Knight." Huh, I would have thought I'd have noticed a ship arrive but I suppose the constant background noise the harbor was filled with wouldn't change too much with the addition of another ship. That and the Corrupted Blood area was a bit isolated from the rest of the Harbor so I shouldn't be too surprised considering my attention was focused on Bwonsamdi as well. "Heinrich expects the Harbor to be fully finished by tomorrow's end now that the materials are here."
Truly this world was a marvel with its construction speed. Between magic and the simplicity of tech, construction times seemed to run at an unchained pace here. I began walking inside, I had the inklings of an idea of what scene a bunch of religious zealots would find holy and draw inspiration from.
"I see. That is good to hear… it will be put to the test soon." She stopped and jerked her head in surprise, eyes wide, before bounding after me with what I felt was a little more pep in her step. "I'll tell you later. For now, I have a few questions. The first of which is where Tzo'zi's Knights went. I didn't see any of them when I went down to meet with their Loa."
She huffed and immediately responded, a note of distaste in her voice. "The Death Knights were becoming antsy after you left, so Tzo'zi sent them north to deal with Kvaldir. We haven't seen them since, but the ship crew reported seeing a few walking across the ice towards the Harbor. I would not be surprised if they returned by the time your meeting with the Priors is finished, my Lady."
Walking across the ice? I had seen the ocean, there was no ice bridge connected to the harbor… Perhaps this is another power of the Death Knights? The Scourge is awfully fond of ice magic. Outwardly, I motioned with my staff, "Thank you Thessa." I hummed as my staff clacked upon the stone, the only sign of my passing, echoing down the silent halls. "Your ability to disappear, how is it that you do that?"
Thessa tilted her head at me, her passing utterly muffled in spite of her dressed in full kit. "It was a gift of knowledge from Her, one I inflicted upon myself." That gave me pause as I stopped and turned slightly to look at her, Thessa matched my movements and held a steady gaze back at me. "Do not mistake my complaint for ungratefulness, My Lady. It is just…" She looked away, her head hung, "It was not Her fault, I was simply not enough to comprehend the full scope of basic knowledge She gave me." I couldn't help the growing internal headache, Partner what did you do?
[Apology. Exchange.]
A show of goodwill in exchange for loyalty? Hrm, fair enough. Still, if you really sent her an entire packet… how is she not a dribbling mess? My estimations of the capabilities and resilience of the average Azerothian, and Thessa in particular, definitely rose with that. Perhaps being a soul made her more receptive to that knowledge? Interesting, that could be something to experiment with in the future.
"Don't downplay yourself so much, Thessa. Very few minds could decipher let alone implement the knowledge granted. Especially in such a…" I searched for the right word to use, giving praise was hard, "evasive and potent fashion." Disappearing at will, really, that reminded me of- Ah, Imp. I wonder if she could occlude memory with enough practice… Magic on this planet has proven to have a significant symbolic link to its capabilities, and nothing is more overlooked and forgotten than a shadow.
She quirked her head before dipping it in acknowledgment, a light smirk gracing her lips. "If you say so, My Lady." She motioned her hand forward, ushering us both on as she took the lead to the room that was apparently now the 'Revelatorium'. "When you raised me, She stood there with my soul in front of Her, exchanging life for loyalty. I demanded to know whether She was more than just another Necromancer. I received… insight from Her."
I let the silence hang between us, insight is certainly a way of describing a Shard Exchange Packet. Though I was still not exactly following how information about space and light transitions into jumping between shadows. "And from that, you figured out how to disappear."
"It is… difficult to explain, and it is why I looked for individuals with similar dispositions like my own for my Shadows." She apparently picked up on my frustration as she quickly followed up her answer. "Apologies, My Lady. I am not a scholar or mage."
"It is fine, Thessa." I waved her off as she seemed genuinely apologetic. "Thank you for sharing what you did." It wasn't fine, but she was right. I could hardly expect someone like her to understand the importance of documenting the data she's produced. Perhaps I need to find some volunteers and take a more hands-on approach of knowledge introduction? If basic information on light and space translated into unknown and powerful Shadow manipulation what could other ideas produce?
Something in me tingled nicely at that thought.
Still, I'd better focus on the now, we were nearing a room I was familiar with. "What can you tell me about the Priors before I go to meet them?"
"They are… different. They are composed of the six soldiers that went with you when you traveled with the Nerubians." Oh? Interesting, so something they saw in the Tundra or with the Nerubians made them have some sort of religious revelation? I wonder what caused it? "After returning they sought refuge in the Revelatorium before the common soldier began calling it that. They approached us…. Changed. Burning with new ideas and worldviews. They had not received revelations on our resurrection but rather after praying to you in that room." She cut off my obvious follow-up before I could say it, "We suspected them of having been compromised by the Demon you hung in the room at first, but the priests put an end to that suspicion when they confirmed that the whispers the newly dubbed Priors were hearing were not from the Demon but your Chains, My Lady." I did not jerk in surprise or shiver from the creepiness, only amplified by her rather flat delivery, that for some reason the new cultural cornerstones of the Onslaught were openly hearing whispers in their minds and that was somehow fine. If only because it was whispering coming from my Chains of Death and not the Demon they Bound.
Which, I might add, did not make it better.
"I… see." Really, what was I supposed to say to that? 'No, stop making sane rational decisions because my own magic chains you are praying to are telling you how to do them?' "If I require something, I will call for you Thessa. Until then, I believe you had some recruits to train up."
"Of course my Lady." She saluted me again with the same fist-over-heart bow as before and the next thing I knew she was gone.
Entering my 'meditation room', my eyes were immediately drawn to six new figures in the room, easily ignoring the hanging demon bound in my chains. The six armored individuals surrounded the chained Demon, each of them with their head bowed and a hand raised clasping something, which was likely an icon that represented their new Faith in me.
Clad in the custom Saronite armor that I'd been told of, they cut an imposing image, even if they were kneeling. Compared to the Rectors outside, they had far less armor, as I could actually see the chainmail in the gaps of the plate, and instead of obnoxious pauldrons, the spaulders they wore were small and likely gave them better freedom of movement. With the white cloaks that adorned them, of course with the new Onslaught emblem on them, they almost cut the figure of regal holy warriors instead of the undead that they were beneath that armor.
Hrm. After seeing the nature of the resurrected Dryads, were the Onslaught actually even proper Undead? Necromancy wasn't actually used to resurrect them, just the principles behind the magic of it, and they neither rotted like the standard Undead nor did they have the overwhelming urge to murder the living like Death Knights. Unliving? No, the implications of that don't fit. Perhaps… Undying? Fitting and it sets them apart from the Scourge, which I'm sure they would appreciate. I'll pitch the idea to Thessa about spreading that around on the down low. I cleared my head, 'Stow it for later, I need to handle the powerful, influential, religious fanatics who are creating a cult around me.'
I turned my gaze to try and pick apart any discrepancies between them, any personalizations, yet I could find none. Experience made me expect the personality leaders of a faction to divert from their dress code to show off the fantasy-cliched 'Named' status. 'Although, if they represent themselves as The Priors it would make sense to dress the same.'
They did not rise when I entered the room, nor did they react when I walked into their midst, and even as I took my seat upon the altar, they did not move from their position. But I could tell they were directing their attention to me, waiting for something to occur to bring them into action. Cult. God. Fanatics. I sighed, internally, of course.
"Rise."
Immediately and in sync with one another, the Priors all rose to their feet, right hand over their chest while their left gripped a greatsword by the blade. Just as I had thought, they were waiting on me to start this conversation. A bitter note flitted through me before I quashed it, they were eerily in precise sync with one another, but I wasn't controlling them like they were mindless undead or a swarm of bugs. That was something they had done on their own. With that same precision, they lined themselves up before me.
So much like Khepri. What had they 'heard' from my chains?
"I have been told about you six." I debated with myself on the phrasing, what to start with? How to ask? Thessa's statements made it sound like they still had impetus but I wasn't their peer, I was their god. I would need to ask about the information I wanted to hear, not rely on them just telling me what I wanted to know without me asking. So, first, "I'd like to know more about the revelations that you've gleaned from the chains."
"As you command, My Lady." "You speak, we listen." I blinked as the two Priors to my right spoke in turn, continuing right after the other had finished. My suspicion only increased, I could have waved away their earlier actions as the result of merely practicing to put on a show for me, but surely they didn't practice speaking as one? But I didn't have time to dwell on it, as the Prior in front of me and to the left continued.
"It began when you summoned and bound the Elementals." Oh. The Elementals, I had forgotten about them, since I owned a fortress on an island. I should probably enlist the local Elementals or however that worked. Maybe I should bring them back to study them more. Just another thing to add to the pile of things to do when I got the chance. "We heard the whispers, speaking of the End."
Ah yes, of course, Chains of Death that whisper of the apocalypse. That wasn't ominous at all, truly.
I expected the next Prior in line to speak and wasn't disappointed, given the way they were speaking it was likely that the Priors had indeed formed a bond or connection with one another. The only question was if it was a network or a gestalt. "We witnessed their truth when used on Dragonbane." "We saw the End made manifest."
I see, they witnessed my Supernova and, I grudgingly conceded, took it as a show of beyond mortal power, drawing Faith and revelations from it. In retrospect, Alexstrasza's words rang in my head, about my mana usage and what I thought was normal versus what the average mage of this world would think. The Supernova utterly drained me, and based on that as a scale… I grimaced, there was no talking down or playing this off. I had hoped maybe to manage expectations like I have done quite well so far with the Dryads and Gothik, but between all the factors when it came to the Onslaught combined with the amount of time I've spent away from them, my reputation had quite truly taken on a life of its own. Again.
The first Prior continued on where the last had finished. "When we returned we pondered and discussed." "We prayed and sought understanding." "When you left we came and looked upon Mal'Ganis." The sheer hatred in that name had me look at the Prior who had said it. Interesting. For all that they were fanatics, suicidal and genocidal, I'd never seen the sheer hate displayed just now from any of my Onslaught until now.
"The whispers came again." "They spoke of combat." "Of Heroes." "Of Villains." "They spoke, we learned." I felt… pity? There was no way they practiced this, my initial, possibly unfounded, suspicion had to be correct. "We sought insight." "And our prayers were answered."
"We saw the End." "Where once was rage, there is now certainty." This was becoming more depressing as they continued, but it did build a picture for me all the same. Partner didn't give them any information, I did. Just like with the Priestess, their Faith called on me and I apparently answered without knowing. The worst part was that I had no idea what I 'told' them, between my life experiences and the possibly hundreds of books I read throughout my life it left quite the sea of knowledge to guess at. Though, it does make the Latin-ish names make more sense, as well as the troop reorganization. I had noticed that the factions of this planet seemed to prefer one or two 'main' troop types backed by their veteran or 'Elite' variant. Throw in a 'special' creature here and there like the Abomination, or a 'Named' individual and you get the standard army composition. Apparently, the idea of specializing in battalions and maintaining troop diversity was new.
"I don't suppose you can show me the fruits of your insights?"
Immediately, the two Priors in front of me backed away from me before turning towards one another and raising their blades. Both took a stance that looked akin to some of the statues of old Knights I'd seen, blade pointing straight up with both hands clasped on the handle. One lit up with Holy energy surrounding themselves with a bubble-like aura that shimmered in the candlelight. The one that hadn't lit up made a show of attempting to strike at the bubble, with their sword showing signs of being repelled with almost magnetic-like effects. Then they backstepped and sank into a low stance, their body twisted to the side as they held their greatsword parallel to their head. Then I felt a surge of mana as their whole form took on a shadowy, smoky state before their blade erupted into Light. No, not just Light I could feel it, a small almost unnoticeable nail of Death right at the point of the blade.
The Prior did not so much run forward as they did accelerate and glide, their previously insubstantial eyes blazed a fiery red.
I barely saw what occurred next, but the energy it released was intimately familiar to me. That nail of Death was thrust forward and punctured through that protective bubble. Then the moment the Light-wreathed sword made contact with the bubble, it exploded.
Violently.
Supernaturally blinded by the attack, I only heard the rest of what happened, metal scraping against stone telling that one of the two had been sent skidding away, presumably the one that had been attacked. As my sight returned, that guess was proven correct, with them rising back to their feet while the other relaxed their stance. And with that, they returned to their positions around me, and after a moment the next of the Priors spoke.
"The beginning of the End." "Against such a force, not even the Light can protect." Interestingly, that implied that the protective bubble was known for its imperviousness. Another thing known for its imperviousness defeated by my involvement, no matter how remote, was almost funny enough to make me laugh. Almost. I'd known that mixing two types of magic was possible, my Supernova was an example, though not one I was keen on repeating any time soon. But to know that it was something that wasn't just unique to me and that individuals had created something without my aid… directly anyway, was good to know, yet also a warning.
"Impressive."
And it was. Beyond simply showcasing their own abilities, they had given me something to think about as I moved forward with my studies on magic. What would mixing Cosmic and Light magic produce? What other magics were out there, and what combinations could I make with them? Was this the only application that Death and Light had together, or was there more that required just the right composition to unlock? Partner and I would have to think about those applications as we continued forward with our research and studies.
For now, though, I needed to finish my talk with the Priors, after that, I could figure out the nuances of magic… maybe this time without a deadline hanging over me?
But surely a few small questions couldn't hurt right now? "I am familiar with the intricacies of Death, I am aware of Life, Order, and Cosmic… but I'm not much learned on the Light. Could you enlighten me?"
That got some nervous shuffling and furtive glances between them, which was nice to see that they hadn't wholly given themselves into a sort of weird pseudo-hivemind before the last on my right answered. "It is… different for each channeler, My Lady." Another picked up where he stopped, apparently, they found their rhythm once more. "The Light comes from an external source." "One that graces the determined and selfless." "The righteous and willful." "It is a cleansing and healing power that asks for nothing but for a person to give the path before them their everything." "It abhors the selfish and cowardly, the undead and the aberrant. The Horde allowed such filth into their ranks like the slavering beasts they are. But such truths cannot be rejected, we have heard how Undead that try to use the Light are duly punished for such blaspheme." Near the end of the Priors' answers, the final Prior apparently got swept up into an impromptu speech cum rant cum preach.
I blinked. 'Wow. I can see how the others could get caught up if this was how they proposed the changes. They had an odd charisma.'
"Interesting. And being… Undying has not affected it?" I threw out my name idea I had earlier to help separate themselves from the Undead. I hadn't realized the depths of their disgust for them but thinking about it now, I realized that not many people would throw their entire life away on a suicide mission with a low chance of success at what was effectively a living apocalypse. My cloudy memories and the clinical way the 'Scourging of Lordaeron' was dictated to me likely didn't help me put two and two together until now.
Ugh, I called them religious fanatics but their religion must have been the only thing left in their lives after it all, anyone would have turned out like that. I winced, numerous villains from Bet came to mind and I amended my statement, most people would have found something to base their life around… or break. The fact that so many managed to push through, and actually managed to get this far… It was commendable.
One of the Priors huffed and nodded, "Undying. It fits." "But no, when you first brought us back from the abyss of Death we were lost." "Broken of if not mind, then spirit." "We chose to answer the call of The Patron as our last hurrah." "Either an honored promise or one final betrayal."
Oh. So that was why they had been so restrained towards me? Even though I had killed them, brought them into a state close to something they loathed, they were giving me one shot to take the fight to the Scourge or they would die in an effort to at the least kill me.
I nodded, I could respect convictions like that. And I could see why they lost connection to this Light if it required willpower, even a single failure could cause a downward spiral that lead to more and more failures. I didn't miss how similar this Light worked to when the Kaldorei prayed to me. "And what changed?"
They said as one. "You."
"You showed us power, you allowed us time." "When we were lost, petitions to you and The Patron gave us answers." "With time we mended, reaffirmed in conviction, and the Light answered us once more."
Well. Huh. I believe this is the part where I- ah, yes there is the awkward fluttery-tingle. Thank you, Partner, I needed a rough approximation of embarrassment brought about by praise shoved into my non-existent skull.
Still, this Light functioned quite differently from other magics I had seen or used so far. "Say about the Light, could you explain more?"
Again, I received silence from them as they looked back and forth between each other. Finally, one of the Priors in the middle spoke, "I'm sorry, My Lady, we can give you insight into the Church but you speak about the more fundamentals of the Light, yes?" Another shook their head, "We were but simple peasants, not nobles, scholars, or priests." A third shrugged, "The hows and why didn't matter before the fall and they didn't matter after the fall. If it worked, it worked."
'Right, right. No matter how competent Thessa and Henrich are, they were orphans. Most of the Crusade was made of peasants and veterans…' I waved off their apology, "It is not an issue, merely a curiosity."
I only had one more question for them, at least for now. I was certain that I'd find something else to ask them about later. "This Demon, Mal'Ganis…" I jerk my staff at the dead Demon held aloft by my chains, still dripping blood, 'I ought to look into that too…' "When I first came in you were arranged around him, was there some greater significance to that?"
"Let us tell you our history." "The Plague came and claimed a Kingdom." "We were among those who marched on Stratholme with the Prince, pursuing the source of the cursed grain" Stratholme… I knew that name. The acolytes spoke of that place on occasion, unfortunate that I wasn't able to understand them at the time. It's no capital city from what few bits I could recall, but it was a cornerstone of… Lordaeron? "There Mal'Ganis' treachery was revealed, forcing the Prince to commit terrible acts to try and save his people." "Betrayed by his allies for doing what was right…" "The Kingdom's fall, the Prince's fall, starts with Mal'Ganis."
Cursed grain? The start of a zombie apocalypse? A major metropolitan zone? Wait, the Scourge necromancers thought they made the plagues, the Crusaders thought they were putting a stop to it, and caught up in it all is a body-snatching Demon. 'Dammit, Demons from
"""A Purge.""" "The Prince knew what had to be done." "The Demon taunted us the whole time." "We knew he did not lie, why bother when the truth was worse?" "If we were to stop the Scourge from using the body and souls of the people we swore to protect, we had to cut them down." """It was the only way."""
Shit, I knew I wasn't going to like the answer. If Stratholme was a major city, filled with tens of thousands of souls… people they had been charged with protecting, I could see how that weight burned on their psyche. To 'save' them from the Plague you had to slash and burn the very people who looked to you for protection- while they were still human. What else would they feel but sheer Hatred for the creature that forced them to commit such atrocity?
The worry and anxiety that eats away at you as someone looms above you thinking themselves untouchably superior while they mock you about how everyone you care about could be dead or dying, claiming that it was all by their hand. The magic inside me roiled at the memory.
Yet, when they spoke of the Prince it was oddly detached. Considering the circumstance, you could think that the soldiery would harbor misplaced resentment towards their boss, yet... "What about the Prince? Surely you have resentment for him ordering that purge."
"The Prince did what he thought best." "When faced with your Kingdom's death… would you not do everything to preserve it?" My mind involuntarily flashed to the battle with Scion, before flitting through countless other decisions and incidents that I'd chosen. And I found myself unable to disagree. "Burning bridges with Friends and Mentors, he led us against the Scourge." "Wounded as we were during the Purge, we were unable to join him when he sailed to Northrend." "There he fell to the lure of Mal'Ganis, and only a corpse returned bearing a cursed sword."
"I see." Cursed sword and a Prince? I can put two and two together. "What was the Prince's name?"
"The Prince's name whispered through the Forests." "The people cheered his name when he came home." "Prince Arthas… now the Lich King."
The suddenly somber atmosphere infected my thoughts. That's… was dark. Could my story have ended similarly? If Contessa hadn't killed me when she did? Would I have-? I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. Yes, I would have.
I shook my head to clear it, we had gotten off track. "There's more of these Demons than just Mal'Ganis, isn't there?"
The priors shared a chuckle at this. "Of course there are." "Rumors of the Forsaken, the Undead filth that claims to be free of the Scourge, have allied with one'" "One was supposedly slain but… we are not learned, but even we don't believe it was that easy." "It is almost assured that more hide in plain sight." "They are, after all, Legion."
Fantastic. Shapeshifting dragons. Shapeshifting demons. Why can so many things shapeshift?! Ahem. "And only I have killed one?" This was going to be a serious issue, maybe I should try and teach my 'spells' to some of the mages here? If there are any, that is. The Kaldorei could pull on me for spells, maybe… Under the cover, my garments provided me I cringed in disgust at the thought of what I would have to do. I might have to play up being a god to the priests to enable them to wield my Deathbolts and Chains of Death. If the Demons were competent enough to engineer a zombie apocalypse and world war, I didn't want to see what would happen now that I've started permanently killing them. Who knows what they would lash out with?
One of the Priors shook their head thankfully, only for my hopes to be crushed instantly. "Technically, no. However, I have only heard stories about the Death of Archimonde." "A terrifying creature that laid waste to Dalaran using unknown magics, he sought to consume the World Tree." There was a World Tree? I supposed I shouldn't be all that surprised by such information, this world seemed to pack itself to the brim with every fantasy. "It is said that Nature itself rose up to strike him down in a great self-sacrificial explosion, you can supposedly see his skeleton still wrapped around the tree."
"And leaving a body behind isn't normal?" Another round of shrugs was all I received.
"I'm sorry, My Lady, we aren't too knowledgeable on Demons." "The Demons largely fought in Kalimdor, and we are too young to know of the second war." "You would have to find a Warlock to know more of them."
Another shared term, but on this world, it was apparently more defined, "Warlock?"
"A practitioner of Fel." "Outcasts and Heathens, striking pacts and selling souls, theirs and others, for power." "They are few and far between." "The Alliance tolerates them, barely." That prior shook his head while two others spat. "Further proof of how they have fallen to corruption and need to be purged."
Wow, that was, uh, a leap of logic. Yet, at the same time, I could almost understand. Your government, which is supposed to protect you, up and tolerates the existence of people who consort with literal genocidal Demons, and trade the souls of others for promises of power. It was like all the stereotypes of 18th-century witches made real, and all the more horrible for it. I really doubted anyone who got that deeply involved in Demonology is going to be all that picky about whose souls they trade away.
Regardless, that explains the Saytrs now, using Fel magic and why their souls tried to disappear the second I broke the crystal shell holding them. It looks like I was right in my wariness of them, though things just became more complicated for me as now I have undead Demons in my employ without using any of the usual methods this world knows…
Sigh.
I held back a groan as I realized that the Demons were likely going to be another, constant, threat to the world I was now on, especially with Warlocks running around. I just hoped it didn't end up with another Cauldron situation where they become shadow backers to those in positions of power and use their influence to weaken the world to invasions… but then I realized that was exactly what was happening right now.
I could feel the beginning of a headache coming on and I didn't even have the biology to get those anymore. "Very well. Thank you, I must meditate…" I paused, there was no harm in telling them I was going to talk directly with Partner was there? They already knew of her existence, and it would probably buy me some uninterrupted time if I play into their religiosity a bit… "And I will have to speak to Her, so if I could have some private time?"
The six immediately straightened and saluted with a fist over their heart. "Of course, My Lady, before we depart, may we swear an oath to you?"
"I- Yes, go ahead." What would refusing them give me? The headache-like feeling only increased.
The six knelt in sync, sword blade in hand, much like how I first found them. "On bended knee, we swear to protect our liege and her holdings, to serve the good of both, though it may cost us our souls. We shall serve faithfully and with honor, forever more, till our liege releases us to the Final Death. We give our oath, by this symbol of our standing in the Onslaught, to hold this oath, lest our souls are annihilated in shame and dishonor."
There was something in the air that took hold of me, "I accept your Oaths of fealty and dedication, and in turn offer my own Oath to protect Azeroth from all that wish the planet and its people ill."
I sagged into my voluminous cloak as something weighed down the air, heavy and oppressive. "Now, please, I must meditate."
They rose in sync and saluted once more with their fists, """By your will.""" Then they turned and marched out, leaving me alone with the weighty air and a still bleeding corpse of a Demon.
I barely noticed my staff unmoving, static in its place as I let go and immediately sank into a meditative pose.
[Vengeance Landing - Sylvanas]
"-nge. The Outcasts have reported fluctuations in the Leylines since we arrived. They don't expect it to be an issue currently, but will keep monitoring it for any abnormal fluctuations." I nodded at the end of the report, signaling for the Black Outcast to move back before I turned to an Executor at the far side of the table as she stepped forward.
She gave me a short bow before launching into her report, another of many that had been given. "News on the Necromancer known as 'Wraith', my Lady." An eye rose in response as I gave the woman my attention, as did most of the room save Putress, the unhinged man muttering under his breath and writing down notes on a pad.
"While obviously, Wraith is an adopted name, her distinct features, namely being one-armed, also produce no results. The only consolation is that the Alliance is also at a loss as to who she is, as well as the Mage-city, Dalaran." I sat a little straighter out of interest. Oh? Isn't that something… "Somehow, whoever Wraith used to be was able to hide their immense skill until now. As far as we can tell now, she is a relatively new Necromancer from the Cult of the Damned but given her apparently leadership position and mobile nature, she is likely quite high in it."
I said nothing, as far as I was concerned, this 'Wraith' was simply another necromancer on the cusp of lichdom, or a lich already if some of the previous hearsay was to be believed. Certainly, I'd heard of the Warsong and Alliance's failure to land at Borean Tundra, and that both laid much at this 'Wraith's' hands, but the bruised egos of Orcs and Men were hardly a reliable source. I found it far more likely they merely lost and blamed the most visually memorable figure. The Cult of the Damned was disappointingly vast, and even to this day, there are defections from the Living. I doubted anyone's records were infallible, this Wraith could have easily slipped by.
I motioned for the Executor to keep going, perhaps there would be something actually worthwhile in the report. "At the Horde lazing zone, Overlord Hellscream, and many others, bore witness to a fight between Wraith and an odd sea-like vrykul by the name of 'Sigvaldr Dragonsbane'. 'Wraith' utilized various unknown spells as well as several spells of druidic nature." Interesting… Perhaps that was why no one remembers or has records of Wraith? A druid practicing necromancy….
It wasn't fear I felt but unease, what foul intent did He have for recruiting a Druid? What kind of sick mind could attune themselves to Nature to then destroy it with the Scourge's plagues? I would have my Rangers and spies keep an eye out for information on this Wraith.
-"Fortunately, we managed to intercept official reports from the Alliance, she decimated the Alliance forces with an unknown variation of Undead that emitted, ahem, 'a foul deep purple smoke' from their eyes and mouths. She also accomplished this without the aid of any other Cult members, wiping out the entire landing party." I schooled my features as I started internally. This was more than mere rumors then. Perhaps… more than just an eye out was necessary. This Wraith would have to be dealt with, and soon, before whatever rotten plan that festers in their mind comes to fruition…
I would send out new orders the moment this meeting was done, there was to be a shift in priorities. I toyed with the idea of petitioning the Warchief to have them targeted by Adventurer hit squads or assassins, but no, it would take far too long…
"According to information obtained from the Ebon Blade, there is an order of Death Knights serving under her, at least during that particular battle, one by the name of 'The Corrupted Blood'." The woman made a noise of disgust, one that was shared among many Executors and even a few apothecaries, with even Putress stopping what he was doing to make his displeasure known. I could understand it, the Corrupted Blood was an unnatural disease that defied any attempt to reverse engineer or cultivate it artificially, a shame as its abilities had proven… impressive.
That didn't mean the Apothecaries hadn't made use of it, only that they held a particular dislike of the curse-like disease.
The Executor waited for the room's displeasure to settle before continuing on. "According to Mograine, the Corrupted Blood are, ahem, quote, 'a group of savages and butcherers that make any other Order pale in comparison'. Made up exclusively of Troll Death Knights, they're a small Order, but consist of several of the most dangerous Death Knights personally raised by the Lich King."
"... Unfortunately, that's all we were able to obtain on the 'Corrupted Blood', and it's entirely possible that they and 'Wraith' parted ways after fighting in the Borean Tundra." A frown found its way onto my face, I doubted we would be that lucky. No, it was far more likely the Corrupted Blood worked with the anomaly that is Wraith.
With her report finished the Executor backed up and stood amongst the rest of the Dreadguard officers, letting us all mull over the information on this new threat. This Wraith was an important individual, there was no doubt to this with both the feats and power that she displayed, the question now was on where she slotted into the Scourge and how to kill her. That information wou-
"My Lady!"
I and nearly every other member of this meeting looked up as a Ranger came rushing into the room, clutching a letter in her hand. "Vorel." My voice betrayed nothing, but I was curious as to why Vorel, one of the… younger Rangers raised from the Ghostlands, disturbed a meeting for a simple letter. Perhaps one could chalk it up to inexperience or misjudging the situation, but no member of my Dark Rangers was incompetent or a fool. It was a letter from neither the Horde nor Alliance, the only faction that could send such a letter, so fast as to have a Ranger treat it as time-sensitive…?
Something felt off about this.
Falling to a knee right before me, she held out the letter for me to take, replying to my unspoken question as I took the letter in hand. "A letter from Dalaran, my Lady." As I suspected. "Delivered by several Battlemages." And it gets stranger still. Battlemages weren't used to deliver simple letters, they were far too valuable and prideful to lower themselves to mere errand boys. Which meant someone with significant pull was able to order them to do it.
A feeling of dread began to build within me.
Whatever the case was that led the elite of the Kirin Tor to be delivering a letter personally instead of through apprentices or familiars was important enough to put off the current meeting to read it immediately. Pulling one of my knives out, I cut through the eyed seal of Dalaran and pulled out the parchment, putting all of my attention on the message within.
'Sylvanas.'
An eye rose in response to the first word, and already I had an idea of who had sent this letter, almost none among the Mages of Dalaran would use my name, and my dear Sister would use 'Sister' or 'Elder Sister' to address me… Meaning that this was from her husband instead, Red Hair Rhonin.
A good man, one that I approved of, even if our family hadn't. Not that any of us three sisters cared overly much about that… A shame Nathanos was so… worshipful, otherwise, I would have contemplated marrying the man. As it was now, he was a useful apprentice, even if he was overly attached to his old home in the Plaguelands.
I rid myself of old sentiments and continued on, face passive and eyes half-closed.
'I will get straight to the point and not mince words.' Strange… Rhonin was typically more… sentimental, at least in the past when I kept in touch with Vereesa. A tinge of apprehension and dread flitted through me before I crushed it and kept reading. 'Something has happened to Vereesa.' If my blood still flowed, it would have turned to ice and stopped, as it stood, I felt the phantom imitation of it grip me.
'After arriving above 'Crystalsong Forest' in the middle of the continent, an expedition was sent out to research some anomalies. Vereesa and her rangers were to act as a guard detail for a Kirin Tor detachment led by a member of the Six, Aethas Sunreaver.' The name was familiar… but I couldn't recall who this 'Aethas' was, regardless of his position as a member of the Kirin Tor. Regardless of that, my attention was less on this 'Aethas' and more on what happened to my sister.
I kept reading, the ice in my veins gripping my soul and refusing to let me stop until I knew what had happened to Vereesa. 'Night Elf and Dryad Specters, alongside Crystalline Satyrs ambushed the expedition. A full third of the expedition was lost, including Vereesa. Aethas is in critical condition after channeling too much mana, and most of the expedition is marginally better.' … 'I don't know if she is alive or dead, but she is now in the hands of an unnaturally powerful necroman-'
My body shook. I finished the letter.
'-necromancer who may have some previous Druidic affiliation, of all things. I know what I ask of you is much, but my hands are tied. There are rumors of traitors and everyone I trust is ensuring that Dalaran does not fall in the coming battle against the Aspect of Magic.
I'm Sorry,
Rhonin
The parchment crumpled as my hand tightened.
Oppressive silence weighed on the room as I looked up, my eyes wrathful and hard as I looked over to Anselm, the man doing his absolute best to remain still as my gaze settled on him. "Anselm." He made no move other than keeping his attention fully on me, the ice in my voice enough to broker not a word from him. "You are in command. Continue our advance and deploy whatever is necessary to deal with any problems."
"Yes, my Lady."
Looking over to the other side of the table, my eyes landed on Putress, who finally looked at me with his full attention. "I want the Blight deployable wherever it needs to be Putress." There were no grandiose gestures, no comments, or anything that was the norm for the Grand Apothecary, he simply bowed in confirmation of my words.
"Areiel, gather the Rangers. We leave in five minutes." I didn't wait to hear if my Second acknowledged my words, already making for the door outside to prepare my mount for the journey. Outside it was as dreary and miserable as it had been since landing here, though the men and women who'd come to claim Vengeance against Arthas gave me a wide berth as I made my way to the stables, knowing better than to approach me with my mood as it was.
It took no time at all to ready my steed, even if I was attached to the beasts I used, these were barely sentient bones held together by necromancy and the barding that caged them. One could afford to be rough and hasty with them, so long as they weren't overly damaged, and given the news, I was not of the mind to be delicate with creatures as dull as Abominations. I was mounted and waiting, of half a mind to charge ahead alone.
Fortunately for me, my Dark Rangers arrived shortly after I exited atop my mount, preparing their own mounts for the journey. Each Ranger was one I personally instructed, either in Life or in Undeath, and while they may be few overall compared to the other militaries of the Horde, my eight hundred Dark Rangers together could topple nations. Unfortunately, I could only bring to bear a fraction of that amount, many of my Rangers in vital roles back in the Eastern Kingdoms, or scouting for the Hand of Vengeance.
If I remember the deployment schedules right there were just under two hundred stationed here ready to move out and follow me to Crystalsong Forest.
No words were said when the five minutes were up, nothing needed to be said to my Rangers since they knew their duty was to follow me, wherever I led them. All that I did to signal our advance was urge my mount forward, the dead creature bursting into a sprint towards the lift leading to the Fjord proper.
Whoever, whatever, had taken my Sister would regret its choice, much like Arthas would when the Hand of Vengeance broke his walls with Blight and Vengeance. I would make certain that Vereesa was recovered, or avenged in the worst case.
It was time to take care of things, myself.
[??? - Tether]
When I opened my eyes I expected one of two things. One, to wake in the field of graves, or two, to wake up in Partner's mad crystalline castle. Instead, I woke on an orderly and pristine wide walkway paved and fitted perfectly with stone brick. Turning my head left and right, I saw I was still flanked by the sea of graves, but they too had changed. No longer were they degraded and decrepit, ill-cared for, and reminiscent of a horror movie, with shabby grass and moss.
No, now the graves were cared for and orderly, their degradation now clearly from sheer aging rather than apathy. The grass was cut and properly covered the ground. Fascinating. If this place represented my soul as Partner said it did, then what did this say about me now? What brought about those changes?
I wanted to investigate, but the second set of eyes I had dictated that was going to have to be put on the back burner. "W-what?" Alex's voice was… diminished? Normal? I shook my head and turned to address her, it didn't matter. "Calm yourself, you're in my soul, with how connected you are to me now I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
That got her attention as she focused on me. "That shouldn't be-" She closed her eyes and breathed. "No, no. It was clear to me before…" She turned to the sea of graves. "Are they real or is it just a symbolic representation?"
Before, I had just assumed it was symbolism. But, that was before I saw how Partner handled the memories of the souls we ate. Now… I walked forward and brushed my not-there-but-real hand over one of the graves.
Panic. Light. Pain. Release.
And was promptly assaulted by weak and fleeting flashes of memory and emotion. This one died during my fight with Zion. Without turning to address her I responded, "No, they are very much real. Each grave - a soul."
I dully gazed at the unending sea of stone, no longer feeling accused by them, but at the same time…
Alex asked the next obvious question, "Is there an end-" "No." I cut her off. "Not one that would make a difference." After all, how did that quote go? One death is a tragedy, one million is a statistic. What was the difference between one and two billion? A trillion? There was a point for everyone where the number no longer mattered, and I knew with a cold certainty that the only thing that was the exception would be the very creatures that filled this graveyard.
Alexstrasza shifted back and forth, eyes focused on me, clearly wanting to say something but unsure. I turned to see her gazing at me with sad eyes, filled with pity and sympathy. Once we made eye contact she opened her mouth, seemingly finding her courage. "I think I understand, now, why…"
I gave her a queer look, what was that supposed to mean? As if hearing my thoughts, and here she just might, she clarified. "When I first heard of you, I thought of you as nothing more than another ambitious Scourge pawn. When I next heard of your exploits, I believed you to be a Hermit, turned to the Scourge." She then paused and carefully continued, "When we met at Dragonblight I had thought you to be some unholy abomination crafted by the darkest minds of the Scourge. But the Dryads, Gnomon, the Purewell… It made me realize how wrong I was."
She gestured out to the landscape, sweeping her hand over the unending field, "But being here, seeing this, feeling your soul - unfiltered by reality. You are not a construct of the Titans. You are not some monster or minion of the many factions of forces that ended beyond Azeroth." She turned back to me and gave me a scrutinizing look. "I don't know what you are, but I do know that your duty weighs heavy on you. I've seen what someone looks like when they are pleased with their lot in life, and that is not you."
Huh. That… I suppose that level of insight was expected when you lived longer than civilizations. And that was no exaggeration, Alexstrasza had said it herself - our souls were bared to each other, and hers carried an age to it that couldn't be put into words. My response of exaggerated shrug and a mumbled, "I guess," felt insufficient, but I wasn't really sure what I could say.
With clarity came doubt, old uncertainties, and insecurities niggling in my mind.
I needed answers, and as always I only had one person I could turn to. What was it Partner said? This realm was controlled by thought? So all I had to do was think about her place and turn-
"I think it is best we remain here for now." To be interrupted by Partner appearing behind us, still in my realm, with the headstones continuing as far as the eye can see, with the path extending as indefinitely into the horizon.
Alexstrasza sucked in a breath as I watch eyes dart between the two of us. I suppose Partner would certainly be a sight. One arm was made of crystal, the other wearing a chitin piece that was a mix of armor and arm-length glove, stellar constellation like 'wings', wearing - of all things
She gave me a sad smile in return, her demeanor subdued. "Taylor… Wraith… No. Perhaps it's time to rip that band-aid off. You have questions, I have answers." She looked away, guilty. "Answers that may be… unbelievable? Enraging? I just- I just wanted."
I frowned as Alexstrasza continued to look between the two of us confused, bewildered, and worried. "Partner, you aren't making sense." My own worry bubbled in me. My insides felt off.
Queen Administrator hugged herself, hunching in, "I wanted to live a fantasy, I didn't know- I didn't think- I just wanted to enjoy it a bit longer. But Bwonsamdi, the Lich King," Her face took on a rictus of rage and hate, "and Kel'Thuzad forced it. The longer we continued, the more you were…. so you." Her face eased as she favored me with a small smile, one that did nothing to reassure me, only increasing the dread that had begun to build inside me. It was the sort of wistful smile I'd give lost in nostalgia.
"What are you saying?" I wanted to know. I needed to know.
She closed her eyes and pointed. "Turn around and touch the statue. And please," She turned her head away in shame, "Forgive me."
I didn't want to turn around, I wanted to demand answers. But Alexstrasza did it for me, and between her sucked breath and seeing what she saw, I couldn't not turn around and see it myself.
It was a cul-de-sac, framed by larger, more intricate, and fresher gravestones and dominated by mausoleums of various sizes. All of which was interesting, and no doubt something I'd want to investigate any other day, but what consumed my attention was the statue that stood on a platform in the center, taking up the whole space. Or rather, I should say statues.
On the platform, there were four statues, one for each stage of my life, with intricate detail beyond anything else I had seen. Near life-like in its depictions. Taylor was curled into a ball at the feet of the other three. Skitter, my life as a villain, is slightly hunched and imposing. Weaver, my time as a hero, stood undaunted, posed like an Alexandria model. And Khepri stood above them all on a dais, intentional scoring littered her form as she stood head held high, defiant even with a missing limb.
No. I couldn't accept what I saw. Alexstraza, however, didn't get the memo. "Wraith, I thought there were only graves here. What is this statue of… you but… not?"
My jaw worked uselessly as I tried to form some sort of thought, some explanation that made the spiders clawing up and down my spine go away. Anything that thawed the ice that consumed me. "Because there are only graves in their world." I turned to… Partner? Queen Administrator? Taylor?
Who was she? Who was I? We both stood here at the resting place of the person we were, are, never were? I wanted answers, not… this. I felt sick, vertigo hit me even as impossible as it was. My thoughts were all over the place, what was I supposed to say? Do?
How do you react to finding out you aren't who you thought you were when it's all you've ever known?
The wistful smile made a sickening amount of sense.
"Go. Touch the statue, and if after you still want to speak to me, I will answer."
Slowly, robotically, as if my feet were lead anchors I dragged myself to the statues and raised my-but-not-my hand that did-but-didn't exist and placed it on the platform, bracing myself for whatever I would see.
[𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝙻𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍]
We heard the gunshots. The cracking of thunder.
We felt as the bullets entered T̷̵̸̨̀́͟͢͝á̴̶̧̛͘҉̷̧̢̨̕͟͜͝͞ỳ̵̷̵̵̷̡̧́̕͜͜͟͟͝͠͝͠͝͡͞l͢͝҉̸̸̸͘͟͟͟͢͟͟͠͡͡͞͝͝͠҉̛͟ơ̸̶̷̴̴̵̢̡̛̕͘̕͟͢͢͝͡͞͠͞ŗ̸̷̛̛̀̕̕͘͢͜͡͡͝͞҉̛'̷͜͢҉̵̧́̕͞͡s̴ Head.
Shared closure as we fell, knowing this was the end.
Time seemed to lose all meaning as we fell back, through the Door.
And we fell.
And I fell.
And I fell.
Wherever it went, I did not stop falling.
Couldn't even if I wanted to.
I lost all feeling.
Lost all taste, touch, hearing, smell…
But not my sight.
I gazed upon the stars as I fell.
We were all so very small, in the end.
I did not know how long I watched the stars and fell.
Time no longer held meaning, it could have been days, weeks, years… minutes… seconds…
But something in me held on.
And so I fell.
And so I watched the stars.
Until…
Until one day there was one less star.
Then two.
Three.
And I began to count time by stars.
Watched as one by one the stars winked out.
As light faded.
Then one day I stopped counting.
Because there were no more stars to count.
Yet, I still fell.
There was nothing but the void of space left.
Then I stopped falling.
Because there was nothing left to fall in.
Some, distant, broken, part of my existence screamed.
Screamed out of loss.
For there was nothing left.
Only me.
It was then I realized.
I was all alone.
There were no stars.
There was no space.
There was only Me.
I was at The End.
And yet, in spite of that…
I wanted to live.
In the far distance, Light erupted from nothing.
Grey AN: Just for the record, Sciscitatia 3 was meant to be a single chapter. It became… 40k words. That is the reason behind there being three sections.
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GreekPerseus
The Happy Ending
- Pronouns
- Masculine
Wow. So that's why the Priors were speaking about the end so much. Taylor/QE literally experienced heat death. They knew the end of everything. And she can use that symbology in her magic. That's… fuckin impressive. The other interesting thing is the light that shows up at the end. Which means Taylor did not just see the end. She also saw the beginning!
Taylor as goddess of rebirth, calling it now
Anyhoo, great chapter and great story. I always get excited when another chapter of Undying Scarab comes out!
Edit: First! (On this chapter)
Anyhoo, great chapter and great story. I always get excited when another chapter of Undying Scarab comes out!
Edit: First! (On this chapter)
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IndigoPhoenix
Devourer of Citrus
- Location
- Everywehere
I enjoyed it. Don't know why you were so worried about that lore drop. Looking forward to the next chapter as always.
lostapenny
losing sleep to gain lost time.
so it looks to me like taylor wasn't in fact raised from the dead her passenger was and it remade her. she just like in the story survived and led a life after. ( i haven't read ward) then this happens and queen administrator gets raised and brings taylor back ... or something.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Well, shit. QA brought back her friend because she was lonely in a different universe. And her friend was Taylor Hebert.
Like... Is QA still crap at understand people? Cause I am not seeing why she'd think Taylor would be mad.
Like... Is QA still crap at understand people? Cause I am not seeing why she'd think Taylor would be mad.
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My take is that it's not so much that QA brought back Taylor, but that they were united, merged in their death, and experienced the subsequent fall and rebirth as a single entity. There's only one, and they are now more than they were before their death. Wraith is an aspect of QA/Taylor, one that is now gaining insight into her existence.
Behold, for a goddess claims her mantle.
Behold, for a goddess claims her mantle.
Huh. Neat. I hope Wraith doesn't spend too much time freaking out over not technically being Taylor. Personally I just don't get that existential crisis. She's still the same person she is, in the present. She's an imprint of Taylor from GM but she has all of her memories and personality traits. She's still a person, even if she's running on shard firmware.
QA living- dying? through the heat death of the universe is very interesting. Imagining the sheer number of deaths QA and her hosts are responsible for is... Mind boggling. Part of me wants to hear the number but there's definitely something to be said for anything beyond billions or trillions just... Losing its impact for most people.
QA living- dying? through the heat death of the universe is very interesting. Imagining the sheer number of deaths QA and her hosts are responsible for is... Mind boggling. Part of me wants to hear the number but there's definitely something to be said for anything beyond billions or trillions just... Losing its impact for most people.
I wonder how she'll look if she ends up interrogating the captured scout. Hood up with glowing eyes, or hood down with a crown of the dryad's prospective flowers?
I feel like it could actually disarm someone a little to see that bit of color and life juxtaposed on the rest of the edgy death outfit. Especially if the purple haze that naturally makes your eyes slide away from it is on the whole cloak, rather than just the hood.
Like: "Hey, eyes up here. See the human face and pretty flowers? Don't look at that spooky cloak, it's not important."
I feel like it could actually disarm someone a little to see that bit of color and life juxtaposed on the rest of the edgy death outfit. Especially if the purple haze that naturally makes your eyes slide away from it is on the whole cloak, rather than just the hood.
Like: "Hey, eyes up here. See the human face and pretty flowers? Don't look at that spooky cloak, it's not important."
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EntropicObserver
Eldtich watcher of funnies and happy times
- Location
- HOW WOULD I KNOW?
The second time the Dreadlords did something like this to my knowledge, The First Time was with Sargarus the Fallen titan himself with them showing him an Old God infested Titan Infant. His killing of it led to his transformation from a being who sustained order, to the leader of the Burning Legion (As far as I'm aware that's the basics of what happened this info may be wrong or has been reconned info found in one of the Chronicles books)
But the Wraith may never find out about this until much later or if she gets really lucky.
QA is learning the nature of this universe that is made of [LIGHT, LIFE, CHAOS, SHADOW, DEATH, ORDER] May she find the nature of this universe as fascinating as this story is to us
- Location
- UK
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They
Amazing story. Can't wait to see more. Damn, old enough to see your universe die and the next one come into being.
@greysongarr is there a reason the new interlude on sb hasn't been posted here?
Interlude BANE
- Location
- United States, Texas
Lydia Felfeather
It was interesting how fast a Guild of this size can reorganize and restructure.
The rush around the Guild Camp was immense. Soon the deployment to the Northrend front would begin and the leaders wanted everything to be in hand. I had watched with amused interest as humans, dwarves, gnomes, and even a draenei were brought in to keep them appraised of the Alliance and their various Major Guild movements. As druids, shamans, and mages of various affiliations flit in and out. It was sad, they were our so-called 'enemies' yet the jingle of coin could make even that go away - for a small while.
Others may not have spotted it, I mused to myself, but spend enough time paying careful attention to magic like me and you start to pick out what wolf is a hunter's pet and which is a druid trying to be subtle. A shaman disguising themselves as a warrior, a Kirin Tor mage attempting to act like a hedge wizard.
And then, of course, it was our turn. The warlocks. We stood before the leaders of BANE as they scrutinized us, some not even bothering to hide their distrust, and the number of guards surrounding us was quite clearly more than normal, yet…
It was so satisfying, to know how careful they trusted, and how honestly they did it too. Most wouldn't ask for our opinions, and those that would? Would lather us in praise, platitudes, and false promises while not truly taking our views into account. But not BANE, no, they were open in their actions because it made them honest.
They listened when they didn't need to and a show of force to represent their appraisal of our power was better than honeyed words or any 'show of trust' that smaller Guilds would level our way. I knew we were despised, and a part of me acknowledged that it was for good reason. Sure, my fellow warlocks didn't entirely share my view on it all but, well, they were still here were they not?
BANE respected power, acknowledged ability, and governed with a velvet-sheathed steel fist. It was how they managed to maintain themselves as a power bloc where other Guilds fall and break into smaller more insular groups. It was how their reach extended as far as it did, how it enticed those who were nominally our enemies into becoming informants.
It was why, when reports of crystalline satyrs working with spectral dryads came in, they asked for us and druids to hear our opinions. 'Separate, of course,' I snorted. Because the first thing they asked us was if we could repeat such a feat. The non-Sindorei warlocks looked to us to answer that question, as we had far more experience with bindings.
"Of course," We told them, "It is possible."
Embolden by our answer, the rest of our lot assured the leaders that if it was possible, they would find a way. Which, to be told, was exactly what they wanted to hear. For they were if nothing else, opportunistic bastards, greedy beyond their years. And yet, I only had to look around at the hundreds-strong army prepping in the main camp to know that such greed was backed by results.
It took mere days before the first test subjects were delivered. Unruly, disgusting things, satyrs were… which made it all the more pleasing when I got to listen to their screams of pain as we experimented on them.
Curses of agony, pain, suffering. Mental tortures, physical ones. We tried everything, and the leadership at the end of the day merely nodded and asked for a progress report.
That was the cruel, ruthless, effectiveness of BANE. Barely tolerated by the Horde, disliked by fellow Guilds, and utterly loathed by Alliance Guilds, we did what others balked at. And we got results. Even if I had to work with the lesser races. Even if I had to dirty myself with a bit of blood and torture here and there. Even if at the end of the day, we couldn't figure out how this necromancer, this 'Lady Wraith', managed it, and we all knew it was her, we still got the opportunity to try which made it worth it.
That was an attitude shared amongst my fel-tainted brethren, we appreciated the chances to further our studies whereas in lesser guilds or working for the Greater Horde we would have had to restrain ourselves and our research to things that were 'safe'. Bah, they scorn us now but when the Legion shows up we all know who they will be running to for solutions.
Just like now.
I smirked, just like during the Outland Invasion.
A voice dragged me out of my thoughts, "Lydia, listening to the voices again?" His echoing double-toned voice was distinct enough that it was hard to mistake him for anyone else. I turned to him and smiled.
"Lidias, my brother! Of course not, I haven't heard any since the last Demon you helped me drag from the Nether." My 'Brother' was ever so helpful in the more physical applications of violence, he has always been of course, but ever since he went missing and then turned back up as a Death Knight? Exceptionally so. I hardly even noticed any difference in his personality.
Honestly, his complaints about how often I was sending him out to kidnap some smooth-brained Alliance peasant, so I could have some souls to 'ethically' experiment on, were getting tiresome. He was much more enthusiastic about it these days.
"Hmm, then what were you thinking about?"
A smirk crept across my face, "Oh, you know. The look on that druid's face when one of the warriors tried to feed him a haunch because he thought he was one of the hunters' pets."
Echoing laughter met my statement. "A shame that surely burns him even now. But come now, why are you outside the 'lock tent? I thought they had you experimenting on satyrs now to recreate whatever was done to them in the forest?"
I slumped and groaned. "Ugh, I wish, but we can't seem to keep their souls tethered, bind them to a golem, and leave them unbound to a warlock." I roll my eyes in irritation, I could only perform the same rituals so many times before it got boring with the lack of results. "You can imagine why the uppers are keen on the last bit."
He grunted. "They don't want to give the 'locks an army of sadistic Fel golems."
It was ONE TIME! I told him as much and only got a grunt in response. I withheld another sigh, they asked for us to try and recreate the Fel-Reavers in a more reproducible form, and it started out just fine but then one thing led to another and… Huh. I just realized we never really figured out what set them off. Either way, they paid far more attention to what exactly we were doing after that, I mean sure a couple dozen adventurers died and only one was able to be resurrected but- Gah, now I'm even more irritated.
The creak of metal made me focus back on Lidias, he had turned to look at the tent where we were conducting our research. "And you are sure it wasn't just necromancy?"
I nodded, it was a valid question and one of the first things we looked into. "The Shadow priests and more… flexible… mages looked into it. If it was Necromancy then it is so horribly advanced we have no hope of recreating it, buuuut they are fairly certain it isn't." A consolation prize at best, as what went unsaid was that whatever this Lady Wraith did do might still be such advanced magic that we still had no hope of replicating it.
"Which leaves you waiting out here for…?"
"Eurgh, supposedly the bosses brought in some goblin and gnome tinkers both saying how their inventions could help us." Because as if the whole project wasn't already a powder keg, they got feuding rivals to work together with a king's ransom in gold. Groups which I was voluntold to wait for.
He laughed, laughed, at me! "I do not know which of us have it worse, they are sending a few of us Death knights to try and parlay with her."
My eyebrows shot up, parlay?! "Are they mad?!"
He shrugged and looked at me, "Any parting words?"
I hated it, but it made sense, they had a better chance than any of us. Plus, no one would miss a few death knights if it failed. There was so much I wanted to say, how I missed him. How I missed the simpler days. How I wanted him to be safe, that I didn't want to lose him again. But- "Wraith isn't mortal. I doubt she is even from Azeroth. Think… Nauru but… different?"
He grunted and turned, but paused, sending me one last indecipherable look. Was he going to say goodbye- "At least the Naaru die." Before he marched back into the throng.
I missed my brother.
Grey AN: Interlude update to Interlude 1 will be occurring shortly, giving some basic summaries of the PoV characters of that chapter.
It was interesting how fast a Guild of this size can reorganize and restructure.
The rush around the Guild Camp was immense. Soon the deployment to the Northrend front would begin and the leaders wanted everything to be in hand. I had watched with amused interest as humans, dwarves, gnomes, and even a draenei were brought in to keep them appraised of the Alliance and their various Major Guild movements. As druids, shamans, and mages of various affiliations flit in and out. It was sad, they were our so-called 'enemies' yet the jingle of coin could make even that go away - for a small while.
Others may not have spotted it, I mused to myself, but spend enough time paying careful attention to magic like me and you start to pick out what wolf is a hunter's pet and which is a druid trying to be subtle. A shaman disguising themselves as a warrior, a Kirin Tor mage attempting to act like a hedge wizard.
And then, of course, it was our turn. The warlocks. We stood before the leaders of BANE as they scrutinized us, some not even bothering to hide their distrust, and the number of guards surrounding us was quite clearly more than normal, yet…
It was so satisfying, to know how careful they trusted, and how honestly they did it too. Most wouldn't ask for our opinions, and those that would? Would lather us in praise, platitudes, and false promises while not truly taking our views into account. But not BANE, no, they were open in their actions because it made them honest.
They listened when they didn't need to and a show of force to represent their appraisal of our power was better than honeyed words or any 'show of trust' that smaller Guilds would level our way. I knew we were despised, and a part of me acknowledged that it was for good reason. Sure, my fellow warlocks didn't entirely share my view on it all but, well, they were still here were they not?
BANE respected power, acknowledged ability, and governed with a velvet-sheathed steel fist. It was how they managed to maintain themselves as a power bloc where other Guilds fall and break into smaller more insular groups. It was how their reach extended as far as it did, how it enticed those who were nominally our enemies into becoming informants.
It was why, when reports of crystalline satyrs working with spectral dryads came in, they asked for us and druids to hear our opinions. 'Separate, of course,' I snorted. Because the first thing they asked us was if we could repeat such a feat. The non-Sindorei warlocks looked to us to answer that question, as we had far more experience with bindings.
"Of course," We told them, "It is possible."
Embolden by our answer, the rest of our lot assured the leaders that if it was possible, they would find a way. Which, to be told, was exactly what they wanted to hear. For they were if nothing else, opportunistic bastards, greedy beyond their years. And yet, I only had to look around at the hundreds-strong army prepping in the main camp to know that such greed was backed by results.
It took mere days before the first test subjects were delivered. Unruly, disgusting things, satyrs were… which made it all the more pleasing when I got to listen to their screams of pain as we experimented on them.
Curses of agony, pain, suffering. Mental tortures, physical ones. We tried everything, and the leadership at the end of the day merely nodded and asked for a progress report.
That was the cruel, ruthless, effectiveness of BANE. Barely tolerated by the Horde, disliked by fellow Guilds, and utterly loathed by Alliance Guilds, we did what others balked at. And we got results. Even if I had to work with the lesser races. Even if I had to dirty myself with a bit of blood and torture here and there. Even if at the end of the day, we couldn't figure out how this necromancer, this 'Lady Wraith', managed it, and we all knew it was her, we still got the opportunity to try which made it worth it.
That was an attitude shared amongst my fel-tainted brethren, we appreciated the chances to further our studies whereas in lesser guilds or working for the Greater Horde we would have had to restrain ourselves and our research to things that were 'safe'. Bah, they scorn us now but when the Legion shows up we all know who they will be running to for solutions.
Just like now.
I smirked, just like during the Outland Invasion.
A voice dragged me out of my thoughts, "Lydia, listening to the voices again?" His echoing double-toned voice was distinct enough that it was hard to mistake him for anyone else. I turned to him and smiled.
"Lidias, my brother! Of course not, I haven't heard any since the last Demon you helped me drag from the Nether." My 'Brother' was ever so helpful in the more physical applications of violence, he has always been of course, but ever since he went missing and then turned back up as a Death Knight? Exceptionally so. I hardly even noticed any difference in his personality.
Honestly, his complaints about how often I was sending him out to kidnap some smooth-brained Alliance peasant, so I could have some souls to 'ethically' experiment on, were getting tiresome. He was much more enthusiastic about it these days.
"Hmm, then what were you thinking about?"
A smirk crept across my face, "Oh, you know. The look on that druid's face when one of the warriors tried to feed him a haunch because he thought he was one of the hunters' pets."
Echoing laughter met my statement. "A shame that surely burns him even now. But come now, why are you outside the 'lock tent? I thought they had you experimenting on satyrs now to recreate whatever was done to them in the forest?"
I slumped and groaned. "Ugh, I wish, but we can't seem to keep their souls tethered, bind them to a golem, and leave them unbound to a warlock." I roll my eyes in irritation, I could only perform the same rituals so many times before it got boring with the lack of results. "You can imagine why the uppers are keen on the last bit."
He grunted. "They don't want to give the 'locks an army of sadistic Fel golems."
It was ONE TIME! I told him as much and only got a grunt in response. I withheld another sigh, they asked for us to try and recreate the Fel-Reavers in a more reproducible form, and it started out just fine but then one thing led to another and… Huh. I just realized we never really figured out what set them off. Either way, they paid far more attention to what exactly we were doing after that, I mean sure a couple dozen adventurers died and only one was able to be resurrected but- Gah, now I'm even more irritated.
The creak of metal made me focus back on Lidias, he had turned to look at the tent where we were conducting our research. "And you are sure it wasn't just necromancy?"
I nodded, it was a valid question and one of the first things we looked into. "The Shadow priests and more… flexible… mages looked into it. If it was Necromancy then it is so horribly advanced we have no hope of recreating it, buuuut they are fairly certain it isn't." A consolation prize at best, as what went unsaid was that whatever this Lady Wraith did do might still be such advanced magic that we still had no hope of replicating it.
"Which leaves you waiting out here for…?"
"Eurgh, supposedly the bosses brought in some goblin and gnome tinkers both saying how their inventions could help us." Because as if the whole project wasn't already a powder keg, they got feuding rivals to work together with a king's ransom in gold. Groups which I was voluntold to wait for.
He laughed, laughed, at me! "I do not know which of us have it worse, they are sending a few of us Death knights to try and parlay with her."
My eyebrows shot up, parlay?! "Are they mad?!"
He shrugged and looked at me, "Any parting words?"
I hated it, but it made sense, they had a better chance than any of us. Plus, no one would miss a few death knights if it failed. There was so much I wanted to say, how I missed him. How I missed the simpler days. How I wanted him to be safe, that I didn't want to lose him again. But- "Wraith isn't mortal. I doubt she is even from Azeroth. Think… Nauru but… different?"
He grunted and turned, but paused, sending me one last indecipherable look. Was he going to say goodbye- "At least the Naaru die." Before he marched back into the throng.
I missed my brother.
Grey AN: Interlude update to Interlude 1 will be occurring shortly, giving some basic summaries of the PoV characters of that chapter.